Beauvoir laughed, then paused before speaking. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

  “For shooting me?” asked Gamache. “I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”

  “Well, that too. But I meant I’m sorry you’ve retired from the Sûreté.”

  “When senior officers start shooting each other, it’s time to leave,” said Gamache. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in the regulations.”

  Beauvoir laughed. He could feel the older man leaning on him, tiring a bit and still uncertain on his feet without his cane. Allowing Jean-Guy to take his weight. Trusting that Jean-Guy would not let him fall.

  “Did it feel strange,” Beauvoir asked, “seeing Madame Gamache walk Annie down the aisle?”

  “You must call her Reine-Marie,” said Gamache. “Please. We’ve asked you before.”

  “I’ll try.” It was difficult to break the habit of years, just as he found it almost impossible to call the Chief Inspector Armand. But one day, perhaps, when the children were born he might call him “Papa.”

  “I walked Annie down the aisle in her first wedding,” said Armand. “It seemed only fair for her mother to do it this time. I’ll do it at her next wedding.”

  “Wretched man,” whispered Beauvoir.

  He held the Chief and thought about the moment he’d pulled the trigger and seen Gamache propelled from the forest by the force of it. He’d dropped his gun and run and run and run. Toward the prone man, and the red stain spreading on the snow, like wings.

  “My heart broke, you know,” Beauvoir whispered, and resisted the urge to lower his head onto Gamache’s shoulder. “When I shot you.”

  “I know,” said Armand softly. “And my heart broke when I left you in that factory.” There was silence for a few steps before Gamache spoke again. “There really is a crack in everything.”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  By midnight Armand and Reine-Marie were sitting on the wide verandah of Emilie’s home. They could see Annie and Jean-Guy, silhouetted against the bonfire on the village green, swaying in each other’s arms to the soft music.

  Clara and Myrna had joined Armand and Reine-Marie on the porch. Daniel, Roslyn and the grandchildren were asleep upstairs, and Henri was curled up by Reine-Marie’s feet.

  No one spoke.

  It had taken several months for Gamache to recover enough to leave the hospital. While he was there, Jean-Guy had been in rehab.

  There was, of course, an inquiry into the plot to bring down the bridge and a Royal Commission had been struck to investigate the corruption.

  Arnot, Francoeur, and Tessier were dead. Georges Renard was in the SHU awaiting trial, along with all the others who’d plotted and colluded. At least the ones they’d caught so far.

  Isabelle Lacoste was the acting Chief Inspector of homicide, and would soon be confirmed. Jean-Guy was on part-time duty, and continued, as he would the rest of his life, to recover from his addictions.

  Thérèse Brunel was the acting Chief Superintendent. They’d offered Gamache the job but he’d refused. He might recover physically, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover in other ways. And he knew Reine-Marie would not.

  It was someone else’s turn now.

  When it came to deciding what to do next, it had been an easy decision. They’d bought Emilie Longpré’s house on the village green in Three Pines.

  Armand and Reine-Marie Gamache had come home.

  He held her hand now, stroking it with his thumb, while a single fiddler played a soft familiar tune, and Armand Gamache knew he was fine where he was.

  Reine-Marie held her husband’s hand and watched her daughter and son-in-law on the village green and she thought about her conversation with Jean-Guy, as they’d danced. He’d told her how much he’d miss Armand. How much the Sûreté would miss him.

  “But everyone understands his decision to retire,” Jean-Guy had hurriedly reassured her. “He’s earned his rest.”

  She’d laughed, and Jean-Guy had pulled back to study her.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Armand was made to do what he was doing. He might retire, but he can’t quit.”

  “Really?” asked Jean-Guy, not exactly convinced. “’Cause the Chief seems pretty sure.”

  “He doesn’t know it yet.”

  “And you? Would you be all right if he wants to rejoin the Sûreté one day? If you said no, he’d listen to you.”

  The look on her face told Jean-Guy that he wasn’t the only one to face a terrible choice.

  And now Reine-Marie held her husband’s hand and looked at him as he watched Jean-Guy and Annie dance.

  “What’re you thinking of, mon beau?” she asked.

  “Now there is no more loneliness,” Gamache said, and met her eyes.

  Go now to your dwelling place to enter into

  the days of your togetherness.

  When he’d handed Beauvoir back to Annie, in the middle of the first dance, Armand had seen something in Jean-Guy’s eyes. Beyond the happiness, beyond the sharp intelligence, beyond even the suffering, Armand Gamache had seen something luminous. A glint. A gleam.

  And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  As a Canadian, I was raised on lore of the famous Dionne quintuplets, born in Callander, Ontario, in 1934. They were a phenomenon and a sensation. Many of you might have recognized them in my Ouellet Quints, and the truth is, the fictional Ouellets were certainly inspired by the Dionne girls. But in researching How the Light Gets In, I was careful not to delve into the real lives of the Dionne quintuplets. I felt it would be both an intrusion on them, and far too limiting for me. I honestly didn’t want to know what life was really like for the Dionnes. That freed me up to create whatever life I wanted and needed for my Quints.

  There are clearly similarities—how could there not be? But the Ouellets are fictional, and their struggles not real. The Dionnes are real. The fact that both families are quints is where the similarity ends. I felt I owed you, and certainly the surviving Dionne Quints, this acknowledgment. They were a wonderful inspiration.

  ALSO BY LOUISE PENNY

  The Beautiful Mystery

  A Trick of the Light

  Bury Your Dead

  The Brutal Telling

  A Rule Against Murder

  The Cruelest Month

  A Fatal Grace

  Still Life

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  LOUISE PENNY is the New York Times and Globe and Mail bestselling author of eight Chief Inspector Armand Gamache novels. She has been awarded the John Creasey Dagger, Nero, Macavity, and Barry Awards, as well as two each of the Arthur Ellis and Dilys Awards. Additionally, Louise has won five Agatha Awards and four Anthony Awards. Her most recent novel, The Beautiful Mystery, debuted at #2 on the New York Times bestseller list. She lives in a small village south of Montréal with her husband, Michael.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN. Copyright © 2013 by Three Pines Creations, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  Excerpt from “Anthem” in Stranger Music by Leonard Cohen. Copyright © 1993 by Leonard Cohen. Reprinted by permission of McClelland & Stewart.

  Excerpts from Vapour Trails by Marylyn Plessner (2000). Used by permission of Stephen Jarislowsky.

  Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

  Cover photograph by Calvin W. Hall/DesignPics.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Penny, Louise.

  How the light gets in: Chief Inspector Gamache novel / Louise Penny.—First Minotaur Books edition.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-312-65547-1 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4668-3470-
5 (e-book)

  1. Gamache, Armand (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Police—Québec (Province)—Fiction. 3. Missing persons—Fiction. I. Title.

  PR9199.4.P464H69 2013

  813'.6—dc23

  2013013622

  eISBN 9781466834705

  First Edition: September 2013

 


 

  Louise Penny, How the Light Gets In

 


 

 
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