“Commander Gamache was asking about the map,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “He wanted me to find mine.”
He brought out a piece of paper and smoothed it on the table, but she swept it off.
“Get away from me.”
But it was too late.
With him joining her, the hunt for a neck to land on was over. She could tell. Not by the way the other students looked at her, but the way they looked away.
*
Gamache reached out and, using a pen, he pulled open the drawer of the bedside table.
“This was almost certainly already seen by your agents,” he said, replacing the pen in his breast pocket and putting his hands behind his back. “But the Scene of Crime team couldn’t know its significance.”
“And what is its significance?” asked Lacoste.
“I’ve seen it before,” said Beauvoir, bending closer. “It’s a map.”
Like Gamache, he held his hands behind his back.
For years, he’d assumed it was a mannerism of the older man, but as the investigations piled up, Inspector Beauvoir came to appreciate it for what it really was.
In holding his hands behind his back, Chief Inspector Gamache was less likely to instinctively reach out and touch something that should not be touched. From there, it became a mannerism. But the root of it was practical.
There was, Beauvoir was beginning in his late thirties to understand, a purpose for every action. From the blaring act of murder to the subtle grasp of one hand in the other.
Now Beauvoir turned to Gamache.
His mentor, his boss, his father-in-law. But still, in so many ways, a mystery.
“You saw it when we first found the body,” he said. No use hiding that fact, even if he’d wanted to. “When I opened the drawer. You suggested we leave, and so I closed it without even looking. But you saw. That’s why you hustled me out. Why didn’t you say something then?”
“I needed to think,” said Gamache.
“About what?” asked Lacoste. She too was surprised that Armand Gamache should conceal evidence. That might be overstating it, she knew. He didn’t so much hide the map as fail to point it out as soon as he himself had seen it.
“This is a copy.” Gamache waved toward the paper. “I have the original, here in my rooms.”
“You do?” asked Lacoste. “Then why … how?”
“Yes,” said Gamache. “Why. How. Jean-Guy is right. I saw the map when he opened the drawer, but it was fleeting and from a distance. I needed to make sure.”
“You didn’t touch it?” asked Lacoste.
“Non.”
“But why didn’t you tell us right away?”
“I used the map as an assignment for four of the cadets,” he explained. “I gave them each a copy. Nathaniel Smythe was one of the cadets.”
“And you thought—?” she asked.
“I wondered if he’d given his to Leduc,” said Gamache. “But he claims to still have it. He went back to his dorm to look for it.”
“So four copies were made?” asked Lacoste.
“Five. I made one for myself.”
“Do you have yours?”
“It’s in Three Pines.”
“Three Pines,” said Lacoste, staring down at the map in the drawer. “That’s what the map is of.” She looked closer. “Huh. I’ve never seen a map of the village.”
“That was the assignment. To find out why this one was made. But also to try to find out why Three Pines disappeared from every other map of the area.”
“And?”
“Nathaniel says they put the assignment on hold,” said Gamache. “It wasn’t for credit, just to hone their investigative skills. They were overwhelmed with actual coursework.”
“And do you believe him?” asked Lacoste.
Armand Gamache looked at her, then at the map, and sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You want to, though.”
“Nathaniel Smythe was one of the applicants who’d been rejected by Leduc. I accepted him. I thought he showed promise. It is, I have to admit, disappointing to know he’d grown close to Serge Leduc.”
“The question,” said Lacoste, “is how close.”
“Oui.”
She called a technician over and asked that the map be sent to the lab and given special attention.
They watched as the agent placed it in an evidence bag.
“The question isn’t just who gave Leduc the map,” said Beauvoir, following it out of the bedroom. “But why Serge Leduc wanted it, and chose to keep it.”
“And keep it so close,” said Lacoste. “There’s something intimate about a bedside table.”
Beauvoir was fidgeting. Another nettle had dug into his skin. Perhaps not the largest of thorns, but an irritant nonetheless.
“You’ve had time to think,” said Lacoste to Gamache. “Any conclusions?”
“No, but something strange did happen. Shortly after I gave the cadets the maps and the assignment, someone followed me home.”
“To Three Pines? Why didn’t you say something?” asked Beauvoir, immediately alarmed.
“Because I didn’t want to alarm anyone,” said Gamache with a smile. “And I don’t know who it was, or why. Nothing came of it.”
“You think it was Leduc?” asked Lacoste. “And that the map has something to do with all this?”
“I don’t see how,” Gamache admitted. “The murderer couldn’t have been looking for it, since Leduc didn’t exactly hide it and the place doesn’t seem to have been searched. I don’t think the map has anything to do with his death.”
“But it worries you?” said Jean-Guy.
Armand Gamache nodded, very slowly.
“It worries me because one of my students must’ve given him the map, and it worries me because Serge Leduc kept it. Which leads me to believe he valued it for some reason.”
Gamache turned to Isabelle Lacoste.
“Please believe me. If I thought for a moment that map had anything to do with the murder, I’d have said something immediately.”
“I do believe you, patron,” she said. “But we still have to make sure. Can you give me the names of the other cadets who had copies?”
“Besides Nathaniel Smythe, there were two seniors, Huifen Cloutier and Jacques Laurin. He’s the head cadet. And another freshman, Amelia Choquet.”
“The other cadet who served him coffee in the morning?” Lacoste glanced down at the dead man.
“Yes. When you analyze the paper, can you tell me what you find?” asked Gamache.
“Of course,” said Lacoste.
“With your permission, I’d like to invite those four down to Three Pines.”
“Now?”
“Yes, immediately,” said Gamache.
“Why? If the map’s of no real importance?”
“What it does tell us is that one of those four had a close relationship with Professor Leduc. Close enough for them to give him the map, and close enough for him to keep it. For whatever reason. Whoever that was might know more than they realize about his death.”
“Or might know more about his death, period,” said Lacoste.
“Yes.”
“Are you taking them away to protect them, or to protect the rest of the academy?”
“I’m taking them away because I can’t answer that question,” said Gamache. “There’s a killer here. Someone who put a gun to the head of an unarmed man, and shot. Do you think that person would hesitate to do the same thing to a student, if that young man or woman became a threat? The sooner they get out of here, the better.”
Isabelle Lacoste nodded but was far from certain if, in removing the cadets to Three Pines, Gamache wasn’t also removing the murderer. To Three Pines.
“I’ll tell them the map might figure in Professor Leduc’s death and ask them to restart their investigation,” said Gamache. “That’ll explain it.”
“I have no objection. Inspector?”
Jean-Guy Beauvoir also shook his head.
“I’ve spoken with Cadet Smythe,” said Lacoste. “We’ll need to interview the other three before they can leave. The students’ rooms are being searched now.”
“I’ll get the agents to be extra thorough with those four,” said Beauvoir, and stepped away to speak to one of the investigators, who left the room.
“I’m going to address the school,” said Gamache, looking at his watch. It was only ten in the morning, though it felt like midafternoon. “Can you assemble the students and staff in the auditorium?”