Read Online The Cruellest Month by Louise Penny - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louise Penny
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movie and she and Peter were watching it curled up on their sofa, which of them would get it first?
Monsieur Béliveau, craven, gaunt, grieving?
Gilles Sandon, massive and strong, more at home in the woods than in a Victorian mansion?
Hazel, so kind and generous. Or was it weak? Or her daughter, insatiable Sophie?
No. Clara’s gaze landed on Odile. She would be the first one lost. Poor, sweet Odile. Already lost, really. The most needy and the least missed. She was genetically designed to be eaten first. Clara felt badly for the brutality of her thoughts. She blamed the house. This house that blocked out the good and rewarded the rest.
‘And now we call the dead,’ said Jeanne, and Clara, who didn’t think she could get more afraid, did.
‘We know you’re here.’ Jeanne’s voice was growing stronger and stranger. ‘They’re coming. Coming from the basement, coming from the attic. They’re all around us now. They’re coming down the hallway.’
And Clara was sure she could hear footsteps. Shuffling, limping footfalls on the carpet outside. She could see the Mummy, arms out, bandages filthy and rotting, shuffling toward them, along the dark and damned corridor. Why had they kept the door open?
‘Be here,’ Jeanne growled. ‘Now!’ She clapped her hands.
A shriek was heard inside the room, inside their sacred circle. Then another.
And a thud.
The dead had arrived.
NINE
C hief Inspector Armand Gamache looked over the top of his newspaper and stole a peek at his infant granddaughter. She was sitting in the mud on the edge of Beaver Lake, sticking her filthy big toe into her mouth. Her face was covered in either mud or chocolate, or something else entirely that didn’t bear thinking of.
It was Easter Monday and all of Montreal seemed to have the same idea. A morning walk around Mont Royal, to Beaver Lake at the summit. Gamache and Reine-Marie sunned themselves on one of the benches and watched as their son and his family enjoyed a last day in Montreal before flying back to Paris.
With a shriek of laughter little Florence toppled into the water.
Gamache dropped his paper and was halfway out of his seat when he felt a restraining hand.
‘Daniel’s there,
mon cher
. It’s his job now.’
Armand stopped and watched, still poised to act. Beside him his young German shepherd, Henri, got to his feet, alert, sensing the sudden shift in mood. But sure enough Daniel laughed and scooped his tiny, dripping daughter into his large, safe arms and plunged his face into her belly making her laugh and hug her daddy’s head. Gamache exhaled and turning to Reine-Marie bent down and kissed her, whispering, ‘Thank you,’ into the crown of her graying hair. He then reached out and smoothed his hand along Henri’s flank, and kissed him too on the top of his head.
‘Good boy.’
Henri, no longer able to contain himself, jumped up, his feet almost up to Gamache’s shoulders.
‘
Non,
’ commanded Gamache. ‘Down.’
Henri dropped immediately.
‘Lie down.’
Henri lay down, contrite. There was no doubt who was the alpha dog.
‘Good boy,’ said Gamache again and gave Henri a treat.
‘Good boy,’ said Reine-Marie to Gamache.
‘Where’s my treat?’
‘In a public park,
monsieur l’inspecteur
?’ She looked at the other families walking leisurely through Parc Mont Royal, the beautiful mountain rising in the very center of Montreal. ‘Though it probably wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘For me it would.’ Gamache smiled and blushed a little, glad Daniel and his family couldn’t hear.
‘You’re very sweet, in a brutish kind of way.’ Reine-Marie kissed him. Gamache heard a shuffling and suddenly noticed the book section of his paper taking flight, one sheet at a time. Leaping up he lunged here and there, trying to stomp on the pages of his paper before they blew away. Florence, wrapped in a blanket now and watching this, pointed and laughed. Daniel put her on the ground and she
Monsieur Béliveau, craven, gaunt, grieving?
Gilles Sandon, massive and strong, more at home in the woods than in a Victorian mansion?
Hazel, so kind and generous. Or was it weak? Or her daughter, insatiable Sophie?
No. Clara’s gaze landed on Odile. She would be the first one lost. Poor, sweet Odile. Already lost, really. The most needy and the least missed. She was genetically designed to be eaten first. Clara felt badly for the brutality of her thoughts. She blamed the house. This house that blocked out the good and rewarded the rest.
‘And now we call the dead,’ said Jeanne, and Clara, who didn’t think she could get more afraid, did.
‘We know you’re here.’ Jeanne’s voice was growing stronger and stranger. ‘They’re coming. Coming from the basement, coming from the attic. They’re all around us now. They’re coming down the hallway.’
And Clara was sure she could hear footsteps. Shuffling, limping footfalls on the carpet outside. She could see the Mummy, arms out, bandages filthy and rotting, shuffling toward them, along the dark and damned corridor. Why had they kept the door open?
‘Be here,’ Jeanne growled. ‘Now!’ She clapped her hands.
A shriek was heard inside the room, inside their sacred circle. Then another.
And a thud.
The dead had arrived.
NINE
C hief Inspector Armand Gamache looked over the top of his newspaper and stole a peek at his infant granddaughter. She was sitting in the mud on the edge of Beaver Lake, sticking her filthy big toe into her mouth. Her face was covered in either mud or chocolate, or something else entirely that didn’t bear thinking of.
It was Easter Monday and all of Montreal seemed to have the same idea. A morning walk around Mont Royal, to Beaver Lake at the summit. Gamache and Reine-Marie sunned themselves on one of the benches and watched as their son and his family enjoyed a last day in Montreal before flying back to Paris.
With a shriek of laughter little Florence toppled into the water.
Gamache dropped his paper and was halfway out of his seat when he felt a restraining hand.
‘Daniel’s there,
mon cher
. It’s his job now.’
Armand stopped and watched, still poised to act. Beside him his young German shepherd, Henri, got to his feet, alert, sensing the sudden shift in mood. But sure enough Daniel laughed and scooped his tiny, dripping daughter into his large, safe arms and plunged his face into her belly making her laugh and hug her daddy’s head. Gamache exhaled and turning to Reine-Marie bent down and kissed her, whispering, ‘Thank you,’ into the crown of her graying hair. He then reached out and smoothed his hand along Henri’s flank, and kissed him too on the top of his head.
‘Good boy.’
Henri, no longer able to contain himself, jumped up, his feet almost up to Gamache’s shoulders.
‘
Non,
’ commanded Gamache. ‘Down.’
Henri dropped immediately.
‘Lie down.’
Henri lay down, contrite. There was no doubt who was the alpha dog.
‘Good boy,’ said Gamache again and gave Henri a treat.
‘Good boy,’ said Reine-Marie to Gamache.
‘Where’s my treat?’
‘In a public park,
monsieur l’inspecteur
?’ She looked at the other families walking leisurely through Parc Mont Royal, the beautiful mountain rising in the very center of Montreal. ‘Though it probably wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘For me it would.’ Gamache smiled and blushed a little, glad Daniel and his family couldn’t hear.
‘You’re very sweet, in a brutish kind of way.’ Reine-Marie kissed him. Gamache heard a shuffling and suddenly noticed the book section of his paper taking flight, one sheet at a time. Leaping up he lunged here and there, trying to stomp on the pages of his paper before they blew away. Florence, wrapped in a blanket now and watching this, pointed and laughed. Daniel put her on the ground and she
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