“Who’s that?” asked Gélinas. “She looks familiar.”
“Yes, it’s hard to mistake Clara Morrow for anyone else.”
“Clara Morrow, the artist? The one who does portraits? She did the old and forgotten Virgin Mary. An incredible work. I could barely look at it and I could barely look away. Though I think my favorite is The Three Graces. I saw her solo show at the Musée d’art contemporain.”
“She lives over there.” Gamache pointed to a small house across the green.
They walked forward, meeting Clara halfway. After putting the puppy down, she was introduced to Paul Gélinas, who seemed more than a little starstruck.
“Have you met Leo?” Clara asked Armand.
“Non. Bonjour, Leo,” said Armand, kneeling down.
Leo was, he had to admit, just about the most adorable puppy he’d ever seen. He had light brown fur, almost yellow, and rounded ears that seemed made of felt. They were perked forward. His tail wagged and he stood with his legs firm and straight. Eager and bright-eyed.
Like a very, very small lion.
Was it possible Clara got a lion and they got a weasel?
But no, Leo was definitely a dog. Of unknown breed, but a dog.
“How’s Gracie?” Clara asked, and Armand searched her face for any hint of a smile.
It was not an exhaustive search. There was more than a little amusement.
He got to his feet as Gélinas squatted down and played with Leo.
“She’s wonderful,” said Armand.
“Really?”
“Well, she’s peeing everywhere. But then, so did Daniel and Annie when we first brought them home. Granted, we were pretty sure they were human. It’s not totally clear what Gracie is.”
“Does it matter?” asked Clara.
“Obviously not to you,” said Armand. “Are they really litter mates?”
He looked down at the very handsome Leo.
“Well, they were all found in the same bin. I guess it’s possible a little raccoon cub crawled in there with them. Or maybe a skunk.”
“Right,” said Armand. “How did we end up with Gracie? Was she the only one left?”
“Not at all. Reine-Marie was given the pick of the litter. I think Billy Williams is a little sweet on her. She chose Gracie.”
Of course she did, thought Armand. The runt. He’d have done the same thing.
“How’s Henri adjusting?” Clara asked.
“He looks at her as though she’s an hors d’oeuvre we dropped on the floor.”
Clara grimaced, then turned to leave. “Well, good luck.”
“Good luck to you.”
Something in his voice made her turn around. “What have you done, Armand?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Clara scowled at him.
Behind her, in the bistro window, Gamache could see the four young people also scowling at him.
A litter of cadets. But who was the lion? Who was the runt?
Gamache drove back to the academy while Gélinas read the Commander’s private file on Serge Leduc.
They’d discussed the broad strokes of the dead man’s career, what was publicly known. What wasn’t.
And his personal life, of which little was known.
“Both parents are dead. I spoke to his sister this morning,” said Gamache. “She lives in Chicoutimi. They weren’t close. She was shocked, of course, but I didn’t get the feeling Leduc’s death would leave a hole in her life.”
“No friends among the other professors?”
“Not that I could see. Serge Leduc was hierarchical. He would never think of socializing with lower ranks. Not unusual in closed communities,” said Gamache. “Where status is power and takes on an almost mystical quality.”
“Which would make you…?”
Gamache smiled thinly and chose not to step into that trap.
“Any special students?” Gélinas asked.
“By special, you mean did he have sex with any of the students? I hope not, but the truth is, I don’t know. I tried to take opportunities away by, among other things, stopping the practice of freshmen cadets bringing professors their meals in their rooms. That reinforces the power professors have over students. It can lead to abuse.”
“But you think he might have had affairs anyway?”
“He kept up the practice, despite my ban. And it wouldn’t have been an affair,” said Gamache. “That makes it sound consensual.”
“Well, at least they’d both be over sixteen.”
“Do you really think a freshman cadet is going to choose to have sex with Serge Leduc? If he was in any other position, they’d never give him another thought. Nor should they. No. If they had sex with him, or more accurately, he with them, they were forced. By their own fears and insecurities. Seduced by his promises and frightened by what would happen if they refused.”
“Motive for murder,” said Gélinas.
“It is a possibility.”
“So you do think a student could have done this?”
“They’re not children. And I’m sorry to say, even children kill. These are young men and women, more than capable of killing.”
“Killing, perhaps,” said Gélinas. “A police officer must be capable of it. But murder? We hope not.”
Gamache said nothing and Gélinas went back to reading, finally looking up and letting the dossier drift closed on his lap. He thought for a moment before speaking.
“Why didn’t you use this against him? There’re all sorts of allegations. Hidden bank accounts, contract fixing. Intimidation.”
“Allegations. But not enough proof,” said Gamache. “I needed hard evidence before taking a run at Serge Leduc.”
Gélinas looked down at the dossier. “I had no idea it was this bad. I was in Paris when the scandal in the Québec government and the Sûreté broke. I followed it, of course. And heard the rumors even there about the academy. But didn’t know if they were true or the degree.” He shook his head. “A second scandal.”
“Non. Not a second. It’s all part of the same one. Where did the corrupt agents come from? Why did Chief Superintendent Francoeur transfer Leduc to the academy? Francoeur was the head of the Sûreté, the architect of all that went wrong. He placed Leduc in the academy for a reason. What was happening in the school wasn’t a separate scandal but the necessary first step for all that happened later.”
“Did you know that when you took over?”
“I suspected. Ill-prepared, insolent young agents were showing up in the lowest ranks of the Sûreté, and being promoted. One or two could be considered normal in a population, but there were too many. The academy had become a nursery, a factory, a training ground and a conduit for brutality. It created and fostered an environment where that sort of behavior was normal, valued and rewarded.”
“By Serge Leduc.”
Gamache nodded. “He was their first role model for what a Sûreté agent should be. His nickname, you know, was the Duke.”
“Not exactly original. Leduc. The Duke.”
“But it was at least accurate,” said Gamache. “A pretender to the throne. A tyrant.”
“Then you show up, replace most of the professors with your own, make substantial changes. But you had to keep Leduc on, to get at the core of the problem. Did he know you were on to him?”
“Oui. I showed him the file.”
“You did what? Why?”
“To rattle him.”
Gélinas absorbed what he’d heard. “Did it work?”
Gamache opened his mouth, then closed it again. And finally he spoke. “How closely have you read that file?”
“Well, I’ve just skimmed it, but close enough to understand that Serge Leduc was on the take, at the very least.”
“Read it more closely, and then we’ll talk.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“No. I don’t want to impose my thoughts on you. I want to see if you come to the same conclusion. I could be wrong.”