Page 153 of The Grey Wolf
“He was involved in the murder of Charles Langlois. We’ve taken over the investigation.”
“Involved? How?”
“He drove the car.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t have it in him. He was a homesick young guy who’d had some bad luck. Not a killer.”
“And you might be right,” Beauvoir lied. “I need to see the security video to help prove it, one way or another.”
Madame McGregor glared at him, then shuffled back to the entrance and the small room with the security monitors.
It took Beauvoir a while, but he finally found him. There was Paolo Parisi, sitting at a long table in the cafeteria having breakfast. A man sat across from him.
Beauvoir hurried out of the room and ran down one corridor, then another, looking into rooms until he found Madame McGregor.
“Come with me.” He showed her the image frozen on the screen. “Who’s that?”
“I told you. Big Stink.”
“That’s the man teaching Pari—Guido—French?”
“Oui.Every morning.”
Beauvoir advanced the tape. The two men were deep in conversation. It looked intense.
“Why do you call him Big Stink? Do you know his real name?”
“Non.We call him that because he smells.”
“Of what?” Earlier, when he’d first heard the nickname, Jean-Guy had thought the homeless man must’ve smelled of shit or booze. But now…
“Mothballs. Stank to high heaven.”
“Fucking hell.” Beauvoir turned back to the screen and an image seven days old.
Of Dom Philippe chatting with Paolo Parisi.
“Stop here.”
They were twenty meters from the pastel home. Oddly, Gamache had asked her to make a quick stop at the grocery store, where he bought milk and eggs, coffee, tea, bread, and thick slices of maple-smoked bacon.
“Planning a picnic, Armand?”
Then they’d driven to the modest house on the outcropping of rock.
“How can someone get into Blanc-Sablon without being noticed?” Gamache asked while staring at the place.
“Not by plane. We know who arrives. Not to monitor them, but in a small commun—”
“Yes. But how else? There are no roads linking the town to the rest of Québec.”
“True, but you can drive from Labrador. It’s right there. You’d have to go through the Anse-au-Diable, then past the Anse-au-Loup.”
Devil’s Cove, then past Wolf Cove. To here. Seemed about right, thought Gamache.
