The Nature of the Beast: A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel

And they left, glancing back now and then to the large man and two young men, squaring off in the old-growth forest. It was hard not to get the impression of lithe young wolves closing in on a stag. Having no idea just how very dangerous a stag could be.

Laurent’s parents hadn’t budged and Gamache hadn’t expected them to. They were now the exceptions.

Gamache returned his attention to the young men.

“You see them?” When the agents didn’t respond, he continued. “That’s Evelyn and Al Lepage. They lost their son, Laurent, a few days ago. I believe you wrote up the report.”

“Yes,” said Agent Favreau. “An accident. Ran his bike off the road. What does that have to do with this?”

“His death was no accident.” Gamache lowered his voice so that the Lepages didn’t hear, yet again, what they already knew. “He was killed here, and his body taken to that ditch. The evidence is over there.”

Gamache looked behind him.

“Where?” Agent Favreau demanded.

“It’s hard to see. It’s hidden under netting.”

“Show me,” said the agent, walking toward Gamache, who stepped in front of him.

“Please don’t go any further,” he said, locking eyes with the young cop. “You’re in danger of destroying evidence.”

“And you’re in danger of obstructing our investigation.”

“I asked you here to guard the scene until the homicide team arrives from Montréal,” said Gamache.

“You asked us here?” the agent laughed. “We’re not guests at your party. Step aside.”

“I will not,” said Gamache. “You’re not trained for this. I was with the S?reté too. Let the experts in homicide do their jobs and you do yours.”

“Step aside or I’ll knock you aside.”

He brought out his club.

Gamache’s eyes widened in shock. A look the agent mistook for fear. He grinned.

“Go on, old man. Give me a reason.” He glared at Gamache.

“My God, were you trained at the academy?” Gamache demanded.

“Don’t use that tone with me or you’ll see how the academy taught us to deal with people who harass an officer in the course of his duty.”

“Favreau,” Agent Brassard whispered, but his colleague refused to acknowledge him.

“You’ll be my first arrest. One I suspect you’ll resist.”

Gamache was looking at him with such alarm that the man laughed.

“Pissing your pants, mon vieux? Now get out of our way.”

The agent went to walk past Gamache.

“Stop,” said Gamache, stepping in his path. “Step back.”

And the agent, surprised by the note of authority, did.

“You’re new to the job,” said Gamache. “Am I right?”

Brassard nodded but Favreau remained still.

“I know you want to make your mark, but your job is not to bully citizens. Nor is it to collect evidence, but to guard it. You’re lucky. You’ll get to see how a homicide is investigated in the real world. Most agents wait years before they get that chance.” He lowered his voice. “But to Evelyn and Alan Lepage, this isn’t a case. It’s their son. Their child. Never forget that.”

“Don’t tell me my job,” said Favreau.

“Someone has to. Did you hear me say the boy was murdered? And your name is on the report stating it was an accident. You messed up. Your first case and you failed to investigate properly. You failed to notice the body was in the wrong position.”

He stared into the young man’s eyes. Eyes that now held more than a hint of aggression.

“You’re young, new to the job. Mistakes happen. And when they do, you need to learn from them. You’re going to go over to that boy’s parents and you’re going to admit your mistake and say you’re sorry. Not because I’m telling you to, but because it’s the right thing to do.” His voice softened slightly and he looked at Agent Favreau with genuine concern. “Surely someone in your life has taught you that.”

Agent Brassard, who’d been listening, made a move toward the Lepages, but Agent Favreau stopped him.

“We don’t need some broken-down old cop telling us our jobs,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re here, officers,” said Beauvoir, coming out from the opening in the vines. He took out his ID and showed them. “Inspector Beauvoir, with homicide. I see you’ve met Monsieur Gamache.”

“We have, sir,” said Favreau. “I was just explaining to him the chain of command. I understand he was once with the S?reté, so he should know better than to interfere.”

Beauvoir raised his brows. “He was interfering?” He turned to Gamache. “And they had to explain things to you. I suspect the process of an investigation is much the same as when you were with the S?reté.”

“With a few fairly noticeable differences,” said Armand.

“Really? And yet it wasn’t all that long ago you were the head of homicide.”

Beauvoir turned to the agents and saw Brassard’s eyes widen.

“Yes,” said Beauvoir, leaning close to them. “Ohhhh shit.”