Page 23 of The Grey Wolf
“And this?” Gamache opened up the other piece of paper. The list of herbs and spices.
Reine-Marie took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and plunged ahead.
“Armand hasn’t heard from her in years. Last time she called she wanted a favor.”
Rosa nodded knowingly, as though this was familiar territory for a duck.
“What did she want?” Gabri asked, reaching for the Saint André and bread.
“Back then? She was the executive assistant to a member of Parliament. A newly elected backbencher from a rural riding outside Québec City. The MP’s daughter had been in an accident. The assistant asked Armand to meet with her, and he did.”
“Her the MP or her the assistant?” asked Myrna.
“The assistant. She wanted the MP to have deniability.”
They leaned closer. Deniability. This was getting better and better.
“Why?” asked Clara. “What had happened?”
“The daughter was coming home from a bar. She was underage, drunk, and only had a learner’s permit. She hit a cyclist. Instead of stopping to help, she took off. The Sûreté tracked her down and took her in for questioning.”
“The cyclist?” asked Clara.
“A young man. Bagged groceries at the local shop. He was on his way home. The coroner said if she’d stopped to help, he might have survived. As it was, he died alone in a ditch.”
There was a sigh and silence. It was no longer “better and better.” It had suddenly gotten worse. And worse.
“The assistant wanted it hushed up,” said Reine-Marie. “All charges dropped. Wanted the Sûreté to list it as an accident. The young man hit a pothole and was propelled off his bike into a tree.”
“But surely the injuries…,” began Olivier.
Reine-Marie shrugged. “You’d think it couldn’t be done, but anything can, with enough clout, enough influence.”
“And the MP had that,” said Ruth.
“So did Armand,” said Clara. “He had the power to make it go away.”
“Oui,” said Reine-Marie, remembering his face when he’d gotten home that evening.
Sitting here, in this comfortable, familiar place, surrounded by good, decent people, it all seemed so simple. So obvious. The right thing to do. And Armand had done it. The charges were not dropped. Though neither he nor Reine-Marie appreciated the lengths the MP and his executive assistant would go to, to avenge that.
Years later, in their peaceful garden, Reine-Marie saw Armand was still reeling from the clout.
CHAPTER8
“Charles” stared at the paper with the list of herbs, then at Gamache.
“I have no idea what that is.”
“Why did you put it in my coat?”
“I didn’t.” He seemed genuinely astonished. “Can I see it?”
Gamache handed it to him.
“What’s the mystery? It’s a shopping list.” He turned it over and his brows rose, then he handed it back. “Must’ve been in your coat already.”
“It was not. Which means someone put it there. If not you, then who?”
