The Brutal Telling (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #5)

by Louise Penny

Three Pines was asleep, as it always seemed to be. At peace with itself and the world. Oblivious of what happened around it. Or perhaps aware of everything, but choosing peace anyway.

In the kitchen Gamache’s German shepherd, Henri, sat up in his bed and cocked his head. He had huge oversized ears which made Gamache think he wasn’t purebred but a cross between a shepherd and a satellite dish.

She picked up a slice of baguette and chewed on it. The bread was warm, soft and fragrant. The outer crust was crispy.

The first time the poet had shown up with Rosa they’d insisted she stay outside, but Rosa set up such a quacking they were forced to let her in, just to shut the duck up.

Only Louise Penny could fit in “shut the duck up” into the plot seamlessly 😂

Across the room Ruth was interrogating the Chief Inspector. “Don’t suppose you know who the dead man was.” “Afraid not,” said Gamache evenly. “Not yet.” “And do you know what killed him?” “Non.” “Any idea who did it?” Gamache shook his head. “Any idea why it happened in the bistro?” “None,” admitted Gamache. Ruth glared at him. “Just wanted to make sure you’re as incompetent as ever. Good to know some things can be relied upon.”

I have a specific order in mind. And if he disagrees I have a plan. I’ll cry.” Gamache laughed. “That’s how I got to be Chief Inspector.”

“At the old Hadley house?” Gamache’s astonishment was so complete it almost made Peter laugh. “It’s not the same place you remember. You should see it now. It’s fantastic.” The Chief Inspector wondered whether a coat of paint and new appliances could exorcise demons, and whether the Catholic Church knew about that.

If all men count with you, but none too much.

So far so good, thought Morin. Seems the idiot agent act is working. Now if only it wasn’t an act.

Was she a hero or a bitch? Strange how often it was hard to tell.

The carrier that charged for everything. Beauvoir was convinced there’d soon be a credit card slot next to the emergency oxygen.

“A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.”