A Rule Against Murder (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #4)

by Louise Penny

Another rumble and another crash. “Angels bowling,” said Reine-Marie. “Mother told me.” “Better than my answer. I actually thought it might be a storm.” “Ignorant man. What kind of storm? Deciduous or coniferous?” “Aren’t those trees?” “I believe you’re thinking of the cumulous tree.”

lol

But there was no hiding from grief. It would find you, eventually. It was the thing we most feared. Not loss, not sorrow. But what happened when you rendered those things down. They gave us grief.

“You have a rule against murder?” he asked. “I do. When my husband and I bought the Bellechasse we made a deal with the forest. Any death that wasn’t natural wasn’t allowed. Mice are caught alive and released. Birds are fed in the winter and even the squirrels and chipmunks are welcome. There’s no hunting, not even fishing. The pact we made was that everything that stepped foot on this land would be safe.” “An extravagant promise,” said Gamache. “Perhaps.” She managed a small smile. “But we meant it. Nothing would deliberately die at our hands, or the hands of anyone living here. We have an attic filled with reminders of what happens when creatures turn against each other. It scared that poor child half to death and well it should scare us all. But we’ve grown used to it, we tolerate the taking of lives. But it’s not allowed here. You must find out who did this. Because I know one thing for sure. If a person would kill once, they’d kill again.”

Never use the first stall in a public washroom.

You can’t get milk from a hardware store.

The only reason Marianna had had Bean baptized was to force her mother to listen to the minister declare, in front of the entire congregation, not to mention God, the name of Bean Morrow. A glorious moment. But her mother had proved more resilient than Marianna had thought, like a new strain of superbug. She’d become immune to the name. Aorta, maybe. Aorta Morrow. Or Burp. Damn, that would’ve been perfect.

lol!

“Brilliant.” Gamache gave her a hug. “Brought tears to my eyes,” said Gabri. “It would have been better except Number Five there kept hogging the stage,” whispered Reine-Marie, leaning over, pointing at a beaming little boy. “Shall I kick him?” asked Gamache. “Better wait till no one’s looking,” advised his wife.

I love these little comedic asides between Gamache and his wife. Warms my heart every time

The drive was packed with vehicles parked higgledy-piggledy.

what a fun Canadian phrase

“But what’s heaven and what’s hell?” asked Gamache. “It depends on our point of view. I love this place.” He looked around the room and out of the window, where the rain had now stopped. “For me it’s heaven. I see peace and quiet and beauty. But for Inspector Beauvoir it’s hell. He sees chaos and discomfort and bugs. Both are true. It’s perception. The mind is its own place, can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven,”

The only thing money really buys?” Gamache waited. “Space.” “Space?” Gamache repeated. “A bigger house, a bigger car, a larger hotel room. First-class plane tickets. But it doesn’t even buy comfort. No one complains more than the rich and entitled. Comfort, security, ease. None of that comes with money.”

100

“We’re all blessed and we’re all blighted, Chief Inspector,” said Finney. “Every day each of us does our sums. The question is, what do we count?”