The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #11)

by Louise Penny

Confirming the worst fear. That there was a ghost in the attic, a monster under the bed, a vampire in the basement after all. Monsters existed. Their son had been murdered by one.

Reciting his tall tale. Too tall for any of them to climb.

The scientist seemed to want it both ways. The government knew and de facto supported Bull’s research, while at the same time, the government was too incompetent to know anything.

She managed to be somewhat more threatening, though perhaps not in the way she intended. It was as though they’d disappointed a favorite aunt.

He’d tried to explain to Jean-Guy that stillness wasn’t nothing. But the taut younger man just didn’t understand. And neither would he have, Gamache knew, in his thirties. But in his fifties Armand Gamache knew that sitting still was far more difficult, and frightening, than running around.

That fell like a brain aneurysm on the gathering.

Once a conclusion was finally reached they were loath to leave it, since it had taken so long to get there.

Sticks and cones. A tribute to the boy who’d spent his whole life protecting Three Pines.

Armand Gamache never, ever, made the mistake of demonizing strong women. Indeed, he’d been raised by one, married one, promoted one. But he was far from certain he trusted this one.

“Creations are creatures, and they have lives of their own. That play is Fleming and Fleming is a murderer.”

Stories lined the walls and both insulated them from the outside world and connected them to it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” muttered either Rosa or Ruth. It was impossible to say which had just spoken. They were beginning to meld into one creature, though Ruth was more easily ruffled.

“Just because we’re going to Mordor doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves on the way,” he said, opening the passenger-side door for Armand.

“Can I talk you out of this?” Gamache asked Beauvoir, as he approached the car. “Why don’t you try, while I drive.” “All right, Frodo. But just remember, this was your idea.” Beauvoir drove out of Three Pines, amused that he was Frodo and hoping Gamache was Gandalf and not Samwise.