Louise Penny - Cruelest Month

‘The lab isn’t totally sure yet, they want to run a full spectrum analysis, but it seems Sophie’s contained another material, what the lab called a binding agent. Since ephedra’s really a plant, a kind of herb, the companies need to distill it then put it in pill form. Different companies use different binding agents. This one was different from the chemicals found in Madeleine.’

Gamache was bright-eyed now. ‘What a fool I’ve been. Did she say anything about the chemicals used to kill Madeleine?’

He waited, almost holding his breath.

‘She said the ephedra was from a generation back. More natural but less stable.’

Gamache nodded. ‘More natural. They would be.’

He called Lemieux over, asked a few questions, then turned to Beauvoir.

‘Come with me.’

Odile Montmagny was just opening when Beauvoir and Gamache arrived.

‘Come to hear more poetry?’

Beauvoir couldn’t tell whether she was serious. He ignored the question.

‘Have you ever heard of ephedra?’

‘No, never.’

‘I asked you about it after Madeleine died. You know it was used to kill her,’ he said.

‘Well, yes, I heard about it from you, but never before.’ They were in the musky store now. It smelled of too many teas and spices. And herbs.

Gamache walked over to the bins with labels like Devil’s Claw , St John’s Wort , Ginkgo biloba . He took a plastic bag, but instead of using the scoop provided he reached into his pocket for tweezers then carefully dropped some in the bag. He then labeled it.

‘I’d like to buy this, s’il vous plaît .’

Odile looked as though she could have used a Ruth-sized drink.

‘It’s so small you can just take it.’

‘No, madame. I need to pay.’ Gamache handed the small sample to her to weigh.

The label said Ma Huang.

‘The Chinese herb Lemieux told us about that first morning,’ said Beauvoir when they were back in the car. ‘It’s ephedra.’

‘Used for hundreds, maybe thousands of years for other purposes,’ said Gamache. ‘Until the pharmaceuticals found it and turned it into a killer. Ma Huang. The coroner, Dr Harris, told me about it too. Every time we discussed ephedra with someone who actually knew anything they talked about it being an herb. Used in Chinese medicines and others. But I was so focused on the diet supplements I barely heard. It was here all along.’

‘Well, you’re ahead of me,’ said Beauvoir, trying to avoid a frog on the wet road, though Gamache wasn’t sure if he was trying to avoid it or swerved to get it. ‘I had visions of Sandon boiling down a ginkgo tree.’

‘The caul doesn’t always work, I guess.’

‘Seems to slip over my eyes, it’s true,’ said Beauvoir. ‘What does this Ma Huang mean? Did Odile use it to kill Madeleine? And what about the psychic? Is it just a coincidence she has the same name as those magical caves in France? I’m confused.’

‘We see through a glass darkly,’ said Gamache. ‘But soon we’ll see all.’

‘I know that one,’ said Beauvoir, as though he’d won a game show. ‘First Corinthians. We read it at our wedding. It’s the one on love. But it’s not the same passage Ruth read last night. What should we do with that?’ He gestured to the bag of Ma Huang.

‘I’ll take it to the lab when I go into Montreal,’ said Gamache.

‘Careful. The media sees you with that they’ll think you’re Daniel’s best customer.’

Beauvoir shut up, appalled at himself for making a joke like that.

‘On days like this I wish that was true,’ Gamache laughed.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’ll all work out.’

‘Through a glass darkly,’ said Beauvoir, almost to himself. ‘What a great description. You really think that window will soon be clear?’

‘I do,’ said Gamache. But he also knew St Paul wasn’t talking about a window, but a mirror.

FORTY

The conference room on the top floor of the Sûreté headquarters was familiar to Gamache. How many coffees had turned cold as he’d struggled with the ethical and moral issues facing the Sûreté? The constant barrage of questions that finally reduced to one: how far to go to protect a society? Safety versus freedom.

He had great respect for the people in this room. Except one.

A wall of windows looked out over east end Montreal and the thrusting arm of the Olympic stadium, like some prehistoric creature come to agonizing life. Inside, the oblique wooden table was surrounded by comfortable captain’s chairs. Each equal.

That was the conceit.

Though seats were never assigned each man knew his place. A few of the senior officers looked at Gamache, a couple shook his hand, but most ignored him. He’d expected nothing more. These were people he’d worked with all his life, but he’d betrayed them. Gone public with the Arnot case. He’d known even as he did it what it meant. He’d be cast out. Sent from the tribe.

Well, he was back.

‘ Alors ,’ said Superintendent Paget, their titular leader. ‘You’ve asked us here, Armand, and we’ve come.’

He sounded so matter-of-fact, as though they were about to discuss vacation schedules. Gamache had seen this moment coming from a long way off, like a storm at sea. He’d been an anxious mariner, waiting. But the wait was finally over.

‘What do you want?’ Superintendent Paget asked.

‘This must stop. The attacks on my family must stop.’

‘That’s nothing to do with us,’ said Superintendent Desjardins.

‘Of course it is,’ said Brébeuf, turning to the man beside him. ‘We can’t stand by while a senior officer is attacked.’

‘The Chief Inspector has always made it clear he doesn’t need our advice or help.’ The voice was deep and reasonable. Calming even. Most of the men turned to look at the speaker, a few stared down at their notes.

Superintendent Francoeur sat next to Gamache. As Gamache knew he would. It was, after all, Francoeur’s place, and Gamache had chosen the seat right next to him. He hadn’t come this far to hide. He was damned if he’d cower in a corner or behind Brébeuf.

He’d taken the seat right next to the man who wanted him gone. Preferably right off the planet. Pierre Arnot’s best friend, confidant, protégé. Sylvain Francoeur.

‘I’m not here to fight old battles,’ said Gamache, ‘I’m here to ask that these attacks stop.’

‘And what makes you think we can stop them? The press has a right to print what it wants and I can’t imagine they’d actually print anything they haven’t thoroughly researched,’ said Superintendent Francoeur. ‘If they’ve done something wrong maybe you should sue them.’

A few guffaws were heard. Brébeuf looked furious but Gamache smiled.

‘Perhaps I will, though I don’t think so. We all know they’re lies—’

‘How do we know that?’ Francoeur asked.

‘ Voyons , what are the chances Armand Gamache would prostitute his daughter?’ demanded Brébeuf.

‘What were the chances Pierre Arnot was a killer?’ asked Francoeur. ‘But according to the Chief Inspector, he is.’

‘According to the courts, you mean,’ said Gamache equably, leaning in to Francoeur’s personal space. ‘But perhaps that’s a part of our system you’re not familiar with.’

‘How dare you?’

‘How dare you attack my family?’

Both men stared at each other. Then Gamache blinked and Francoeur smiled, throwing himself back comfortably in his chair.

Gamache looked steadily at Francoeur. ‘I’m sorry, Superintendent. That wasn’t called for.’