All the Devils Are Here

by Louise Penny

  “I thought Stephen was coming,” said Annie, looking at the empty chair.

  “He is,” said her father. “We saw each other this afternoon.”

  “Let me guess,” said Daniel. “At the Musée Rodin?” He turned to Roslyn. “Did you ever hear about when Dad decided to propose to Mom?”

  “Never,” said Roslyn, with exaggerated interest. Like the rest of them, she’d heard it a hundred times. “What happened?”

  Armand narrowed his eyes at his daughter-in-law, in mock disapproval, and she laughed.

  “The girls love their pajamas,” Roslyn said to Reine-Marie. “I’m afraid they’re going to want to wear them everywhere.”

  “I say let them,” said Daniel. “And by the way, Mamma, thank you for not letting Dad pick out the gift.”

  “He had the paint rollers all wrapped before I stopped him.”

  Armand shook his head sadly. “I guess they’ll have to wait until Christmas.”

  While the others laughed, Armand watched Daniel.

  He was enjoying himself.

  Daniel seemed to have made peace with Jean-Guy. Long jealous of the close relationship his father had developed with his second-in-command, now Daniel could establish his own relationship with Jean-Guy.

  Still, Armand noticed that Daniel made sure to put Jean-Guy as far from him as possible. Though that might have just been a coincidence.

  He himself hoped to find time in the next day or so for a quiet walk or meal with Daniel. Just the two of them. To make sure everything really was okay, after what Stephen had said.

  Armand’s eyes returned to the empty chair. It was twenty past eight, and Stephen, normally a fiend for punctuality, hadn’t arrived.

  “Excusez-moi,” he said, and made to get up, just as the door to the bistro opened and the elderly man appeared.

  “Stephen,” exclaimed Annie, and struggled to get up before Jean-Guy hauled her to her feet.

  Armand and Reine-Marie stood at their places while the younger ones greeted Stephen, then were corralled back to their seats by Margaux in an effort to unblock the aisle in the tiny restaurant.

  Daniel gestured for more wine, while Stephen placed his phone on the table in front of him and nodded to the barman. His usual.

  The martini arrived along with a fresh liter of red.

  “A toast,” said Armand, when they’d all ordered. “To family. New”—he nodded to Annie’s belly—“and very, very—”

  “Very,” they all joined in and turned to Stephen, “old.”

  Stephen raised his glass and said, “Fuck off.”

  “My father’s a man of few words,” said Daniel when the laughter stopped.

  “Yeah, you don’t know him so well,” said Jean-Guy. “Just wait ’til he starts reciting ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus.’”

  “Just for that,” said Armand. He cleared his throat and looked very serious. “It was the schooner Hesperus—”

  Everyone laughed. With one exception. Out of the corner of his eye Armand caught the scowl on Daniel’s face. He clearly did not like being told, even in jest, that Beauvoir knew his father better than he did.

  Stephen had also noticed the look on Daniel’s face and gave Armand the slightest of nods before glancing at his phone.

  Then, turning to Annie and Jean-Guy, he asked, “How’re you feeling?”

  They talked candidly for a few minutes.

  “If you need anything,” said Stephen, and left it at that.

  “Maybe some ice cream at the Lutetia?” said Annie.

  “That I can do,” said Stephen. “After Monday. We can all celebrate.”

  “What’s happening on Monday?” asked Jean-Guy.

  “Just some meetings. Speaking of which, how’s your new job?”

  Down the table, Armand was saying to Daniel, “Wonderful news about your promotion. A whole new department, too.”

  “It is,” said Daniel. “Venture capital. Already made one investment.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can’t say.”

  Can’t, Armand wondered, or won’t?

  “So, you do a lot of risk assessment?” he asked.

  “Exactly.”

  His father listened closely, asking questions. Gently pulling information out of Daniel until his son relaxed and began speaking freely, even enthusiastically.

  Reine-Marie watched as Daniel, after a few minutes, leaned closer to his father.

  They were so much alike, in so many ways. They even looked alike.

  At six foot two, Daniel was slightly taller than his father. And heftier. Not fat, but there was meat on the bone.

  As there was with Armand. But slightly less so.

  Daniel had grown a beard, which had come in reddish, with a few strands of gray, which surprised Reine-Marie. Time was marching on.

  He had thick brown hair, which he wore closely cropped.

  His father’s hair was now quite gray, and slightly wavy. And slightly thinning. Clean-shaven, Armand’s face had more lines, of course. And that deep scar at the temple.

  Like his father, Daniel was kind and almost courtly.

  Unlike his father, young Daniel had not been a scholar, but what the boy had was self-discipline. He worked hard, and often excelled past his more naturally talented friends.

  He’d been a happy boy.

  Until …

  At the age of eight something changed. A wall went up between him and his father. At first it had been a very subtle step back. Always a polite little boy, there was now a formality. A frigidity. A caution that grew into a coolness.

  That grew into a chasm.

  Reine-Marie had watched as Armand tried to close the gap, but it only seemed to widen with each embrace.

  Armand volunteered to coach his son’s hockey team until Daniel had asked him to stop.

  He’d then driven the boy to early-morning practices, and sat in the stands with a wretched coffee from the vending machine to warm his hands. Watching.

  Until Daniel told him to stop.

  Tucking him in at night, he’d always, always told the boy that he loved him.

  The words had been met with silence. But still, he’d never stopped, to this day, telling Daniel that he loved him. And he showed, in every way he knew, that he not only loved the boy but also loved being Daniel’s father.

  Having lost both his parents, Armand wanted his children to have a mother and father who they could trust to keep them safe and always be there.

  But it was never enough for Daniel. Something had torn. Some hole had opened inside him that could not be filled.

  And yet Armand remained smitten with the boy. Reine-Marie didn’t think any father could love his children more.

  Then came the teen years, and the real troubles. With the drugs. With the arrests.

  As soon as he could, Daniel moved away. Putting a deep blue sea between them.

  And then Jean-Guy arrived. Agent Beauvoir. Found in some basement Sûreté servitude. Angry, arrogant. One insult away from being fired from the detachment and booted out of the service.

  Chief Inspector Gamache had recognized something in the young man. And had, to everyone’s astonishment, not least Agent Beauvoir’s, brought him into homicide. The most sought after, the most prestigious department in the Sûreté du Québec.

  Armand had become Jean-Guy’s mentor. And more.

  Jean-Guy had risen to become Armand’s second-in-command. And more.

  And Daniel had never forgiven either.

  Reine-Marie and Armand had talked about that. About possibly putting some distance between himself and Jean-Guy. For Daniel’s sake.

  But Armand would not do it. Besides, it wouldn’t help.

  “Have you asked Daniel what’s wrong?”

  It was the only time she’d ever seen Armand annoyed with her.

  “You think I haven’t tried that? I’ve asked. I’ve begged Daniel to tell me what I’ve done. He just looks at me like I should know. I can’t keep twisting myself aroun
d, hoping something will finally satisfy him. Beauvoir’s a great investigator and a good man. He shouldn’t be punished because of my relationship with my son.”

  “I know.”

  What she also knew was that Jean-Guy Beauvoir wasn’t some replacement for their son. His relationship to Armand was far different. Far older. It seemed almost ancient, as though the two had known each other for lifetimes.

  They belonged together.

  “Daniel loves you, Armand.” She squeezed his hand. “I know he does. Give him time.”

  Armand had dropped his head, then raised it. “I’m sorry I was short with you. I just…”

  “Oui.”

  As the years went by, and the grandchildren were born, he and Daniel had grown closer. Armand wondered if becoming a father himself had softened Daniel toward his own father. Made him forgive whatever trespass had happened.

  There was still, he could sense, a small distance. It was as though there was a thin strand of barbed wire between them, so that he could only get so close before feeling the jabs.

  But Armand kept trying, and the distance had diminished. Until, finally, it was imperceptible. No larger than a slight crack in a teacup.

  Reine-Marie watched the two in the bistro. Leaning toward each other. And she dared hope.

  Down the table, Jean-Guy and Annie were still talking with Stephen.

  “What do you know, sir, about Luxembourg?”

  “Luxembourg?” asked Stephen, leaning forward and checking his phone.

  “You expecting a call?” asked Annie.

  “No.”

  Just then their dinners arrived.

  Merlu Breton for Stephen. The tender whitefish was surrounded by baby potatoes, grilled beets, and a delicate sauce.

  “That’s very light,” said Annie as her massive steak frites arrived, with its sauce béarnaise.

  “I’m saving myself for the rice pudding,” explained Stephen.

  “There’s a project in Luxembourg,” said Jean-Guy as his own steak frites arrived. “A funicular. But I’m having trouble understanding the engineering reports.”

  Stephen nodded. “So do I. I don’t even try anymore. When I invest in an engineering company or project, I just read the emails between the project managers and home office. They’re much more illuminating.”

  He put down his knife and fork and looked at the young man. “Has something in this Luxembourg project caught your interest?”

  Jean-Guy frowned as he thought. “Non.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The steely blue eyes glared at Jean-Guy, and his mind went blank. It was like looking down the barrel of a shotgun.

  “Then why are we talking about it?” demanded Stephen. “You must’ve learned the dark art of banality from your former boss.”

  Annie laughed, and even Jean-Guy gave a snort of amusement as all three looked down the table.

  Armand was focused on Daniel and apparently hadn’t heard.

  But Daniel had. Not the words, but the laughter. He shot a glance their way. And realized they were looking, and laughing, at him.

  “So,” said Daniel, breaking off his conversation with his father to speak to Stephen at the other end of the table. “We know Mom and Dad came to see Annie and Jean-Guy. But what brings you to Paris?”

  Armand felt the glancing blow. A flesh wound, but a wound nevertheless.

  “I came to Paris for meetings,” said Stephen. “Arrived yesterday. Timed it to be here when the baby arrives, I hope.” He placed his hand over Annie’s, then gave Daniel a penetrating look. “Your parents and I also came to see you and Roslyn and the girls.”

  And Daniel colored. But did not apologize.

  “Now,” Stephen said, glancing around the table, “have I ever told you about how your father—”

  “Planned to propose to Mom?” said Annie. “Never. What happened?”

  Armand just shook his head and grimaced.

  “A toast,” said Stephen, raising his glass. “To The Gates of Hell.”

  They clinked glasses, and Stephen caught Armand’s eye. There was amusement and genuine happiness there, Armand was glad to see. But also a warning.

  The old trip wire, the barbed wire, was still in place after all.

  “Really,” said Reine-Marie once the laughter died down. “The better question is where your father took me for our honeymoon.”

  “I assumed it was here in Paris,” said Annie.

  “I think we should order dessert,” said Armand, and tried to get Margaux’s attention.

  “Non, not Paris,” said Reine-Marie.

  “Manoir Bellechasse?” asked Daniel.

  “Rice pudding, anyone?” asked Armand, putting on his reading glasses and lowering his head to the menu.

  “Non. Shall you tell them, or should I?” Reine-Marie asked her husband.

  “Why didn’t we ever think to ask?” Annie asked her brother.

  “Too busy laughing at the proposal,” he said. “Attention diverted. Now you have to tell us.”

  But once again their attention was diverted, this time by dessert.

  Daniel and Roslyn shared the huge portion of rice pudding with its drizzle of salted caramel.

  Annie ordered her own pudding and fiercely defended it from Jean-Guy, who ended up sharing Stephen’s.

  Reine-Marie and Armand, too jet-lagged to eat any more, just watched.

  When the bill came, Armand reached for it, but Stephen took it instead.

  It was one of the rare times Stephen picked up a bill, and Armand looked at him questioningly. But the elderly man just smiled and left, Armand could see, an enormous tip.

  The night air was refreshing after the warmth and close atmosphere of the bistro, and revived Armand and Reine-Marie a little. Though both longed for their bed.

  By habit and silent agreement, the family headed south, crossing familiar streets, passing familiar shops, on their way to the Palais-Royal.

  It was the walk they always took after dinner at Juveniles. It gave them the impression they were working off the meal they’d just had. Though they could walk to Versailles and still not work off the rice pudding.

  Annie and Jean-Guy, Daniel and Roslyn were up ahead, pausing to look in shop windows.

  Armand and Reine-Marie were about to follow Stephen across rue de Richelieu when Reine-Marie asked, “What time is it?”

  Armand checked his watch. “Almost eleven.”

  They turned toward the Tour Eiffel, and sure enough, as they watched, it lit up in the distance, sparkling.

  “Look at that,” said Armand, with a sigh, tipping his head back.

  Stephen paused on his way across the street and looked up from his phone.

  A delivery van, half a block away, had stopped to let him cross.

  It started to move. Slowly. Then it picked up speed. Moving quickly now. Armand looked away from the glittering tower just in time to see what was happening. What was about to happen.

  He raised his hand and shouted a warning.

  But it was too late. There was a thud.

  And the vehicle sped away.

  Jean-Guy took off after it as Armand ran to Stephen. “Call an ambulance!”

  Reine-Marie stepped into the middle of the street, her arms up and waving. To protect Armand and Stephen from the oncoming vehicles.

  Armand fell to his knees and, turning to Daniel, he yelled, “Help your mother.”

  And watched as Daniel backed away.

  “Mamma,” Annie screamed, and Armand turned just in time to see a car skid to a stop within a foot of Reine-Marie. So close she put her hands on the warm hood.

  “Reine-Marie?” Armand shouted.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m calling for help,” yelled Annie.

  Armand turned back to Stephen. His hands hovered over the still body of his godfather. Not daring to turn him over, for fear of doing more damage. If that was even possible.

  “No, no, no,” he w
hispered. “Please, God, no.”

  He could see blood on the pavement, and Stephen’s glasses and keys and shoes flung about.

  Stephen’s legs were at an unnatural angle. His head was obscured by an arm.

  Armand felt for a pulse. It was there. Light, wavering.

  “Daddy?” Annie asked, approaching her father and the body on the ground as the Tour Eiffel sparkled in the background.

  “Get back,” her father commanded. “Get off the road.”

  And she did.

  “Armand?”

  Reine-Marie knelt beside them as drivers got out of cars and gaped. A few honked. Not realizing what was happening.

  “An ambulance,” Armand repeated, not taking his eyes off his godfather.

  “On its way,” said Annie and Roslyn together.

  Reine-Marie reached out and picked up Stephen’s shattered glasses and keys and put them into her handbag. His shoes she left.

  Armand held Stephen’s hand and bent close, as close as two people could be, and whispered, “I love you. Hold on. Help is on the way. I love you.”

  “What can I do?” Daniel asked, joining them.

  “Nothing,” said his father, not bothering to look at him.

  CHAPTER 4

  The paramedics arrived within minutes and quickly assessed the situation.

  Armand stepped aside but remained close. Watching as they took Stephen’s vitals. Carefully turning him over. Fitting an oxygen mask on the bloody face.

  Reine-Marie slipped her hand into Armand’s, feeling it sticky.

  There was no sign of life from the elderly man. He was completely limp.

  “He’s alive?” she whispered.

  Armand nodded, but couldn’t yet speak.

  He just stared at Stephen as the medics, who were communicating with the emergency doctor back at the hospital, used words both Armand and Jean-Guy had heard too often. About wounds too grave.

  “Shock.” “Hemorrhaging.” “Probable skull fracture.”

  Had this been a battlefield, Stephen Horowitz wouldn’t have passed the triage. He’d have been left on the ground. To die.

  It would not have taken long.

  The police arrived. Without leaving Stephen’s side, Armand quickly introduced himself and said, “This was no accident.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “The vehicle, a delivery van for a boulangerie, hit him deliberately. I saw it.”