Page 158 of The Grey Wolf
Gamache walked into the neat front room.
“Jean-Guy?”
“I’m at The Mission,patron. I’ve watched the security tapes. Have you found Dom Philippe?”
“No. He’s gone. He came here straight from the monastery, but—”
In a move almost unheard of, Jean-Guy interrupted Gamache.
“Listen. Dom Philippe and Paolo Parisi were here at the same time.”
“At The Mission?”
“Yes. They had breakfast together every morning.”
“Quoi?” What?
“But there’s more. The Abbot also knows Langlois and Caron. He was in the meeting with them in the Exec’s office. We didn’t look closely enough. When those two left, you can just see Dom Philippe in the background as the door closed.”
“He knows Caron?” Gamache was so stunned he felt he needed confirmation. “Jeanne Caron?”
“Oui, oui.More than in passing, it seems.”
Gamache’s mind raced.
What does this mean, what does this mean, what could this possibly mean?He looked out the window to the rocky shore. Where so many ships had been dashed. Where so many screams for help and prayers had gone unanswered.
He suddenly felt himself foundering.
“Did someone mention Jeanne?” Raymond Rousseau was standing a few feet into the living room. “We were just about to tell you about her.”
“Hold on, Jean-Guy.” Armand turned to Rousseau. “We’re talking about Jeanne Caron. The Chief of Staff for the Deputy Prime Minister.”
“Yes. That’s the one. You asked about family members. She’s the only one we could think of.”
Jean-Guy’s mosquito voice came through the phone. He’d obviously heard. But Gamache ignored him and was staring at Big Gars.
“She’s family?”
“Our niece. Eunice’s girl.”
“Jeanne Caron?” Gamache repeated, barely able to grasp what he was hearing.
“Yes. I just said so. Lives in Ottawa now. She comes back every now and then, when there’s some official visit, some federal announcement. But not recently.”
“When was the last time?”
“Mother?”
“Two and a half years ago, when they announced the road project.”
Big Gars turned back to Gamache and saw the sort of look a swimmer has when they’ve just inhaled a huge amount of seawater and are about to choke.
Gamache put the phone down and with it Beauvoir’s increasingly insistent squeak. He patted his pockets and found the photograph the priest had given him.
“Who are these people?”
“Oh, so you have it. We’ve been looking for that picture,” said Raymond. “That’s Yves, Eunice, and Jeanne.”
