The Brutal Telling (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #5)
Page 34“Now, Marc, we don’t know that for sure,” said his mother.
“Near enough. Anyway, we canceled the order. You can imagine how that went down.”
Dominique had been silent for most of this exchange. Now she spoke.
“I still think we should have paid it, or spoken to him quietly about it. He is our neighbor, after all.”
“I don’t like being screwed,” said Marc.
“No one does,” said Dominique, “but there are ways of handling it. Maybe we should have just paid. Now look what’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” asked Gamache.
“Well, Olivier’s one of the forces in Three Pines,” said Dominique. “Piss him off and you pay a price. We don’t really feel comfortable going into the village, and we sure don’t feel welcome in the bistro.”
“I hear you approached some of Olivier’s staff,” said Gamache.
Marc colored. “Who told you that? Did Olivier?” he snapped.
“Is it true?”
“What if it is? He pays them practically slave wages.”
Marc hesitated then admitted they hadn’t. “But only because he increased their pay. We at least did that for them.”
Dominique had been watching this, uncomfortable, and now she took her husband’s hand. “I’m sure they were also loyal to Olivier. They seem to like him.”
Marc snorted and clamped down on his anger. A man, Gamache realized, ill-equipped for not getting his own way. His wife, at least, appreciated how all this might look and had tried to appear reasonable.
“Now he’s bad-mouthed us to the whole village,” said Marc, not letting it go.
“They’ll come around,” said Carole, looking at her son with concern. “That artist couple have been nice.”
“Peter and Clara Morrow,” said Dominique. “Yes. I like them. She says she’d like to ride, once the horses arrive.”
“And when will that be?” asked Gamache.
“Later today.”
“Vraiment? That must be fun for you. How many?”
“Four,” said Marc. “Thoroughbreds.”
“Actually, I believe you’ve changed that slightly, haven’t you?” Carole turned to her daughter-in-law.
“I did, but then I saw some hunters and thought since we lived in the country that seemed appropriate.” She looked at Gamache once again. “Not that I plan to hunt. It’s a breed of horse.”
“Used for jumping,” he said.
“You ride?”
“Not at that level, but I enjoyed it. Haven’t been on a horse in years now.”
“You’ll have to come,” said Carole, though they all knew he almost certainly wasn’t going to squeeze himself into a pair of jodhpurs and climb onto a hunter. But he did smile as he imagined what Gabri would make of that invitation.
“What’re their names?” asked Marc.
Dominique hesitated and her mother-in-law jumped in. “It’s so hard to remember, isn’t it? But wasn’t one called Thunder?”
“Yes, that’s right. Thunder, Trooper, Trojan and what was the other one?” She turned back to Carole.
“Lightning.”
“Really? Thunder and Lightning?” asked Marc.
“Brothers,” said Dominique.
“Why did you move here?” Gamache asked, as they walked down to the main floor.
“Pardon?” asked Dominique.
“Why did you move to the country and to Three Pines in particular? It’s not exactly easy to find.”
“We like that.”
“You don’t want to be found?” asked Gamache. His voice held humor, but his eyes were sharp.
“We wanted peace and quiet,” said Carole.
“We wanted a challenge,” said her son.
“We wanted a change. Remember?” Dominique turned to her husband then back to Gamache. “We both had fairly high-powered jobs in Montreal, but were tired. Burned out.”
“That’s not really true,” protested Marc.
“Well, pretty close. We couldn’t go on. Didn’t want to go on.”
She left it at that. She could understand Marc’s not wanting to admit what’d happened. The insomnia, the panic attacks. Having to pull the car over on the Ville Marie Expressway to catch his breath. Having to pry his hands off the steering wheel. He was losing his grip.