A Trick of the Light - Louise Penny [74]
“Hi, welcome to the meeting,” a young woman said, and led him through the door and down the stairs into the dingy, ill-lit basement. It smelt stale, of old cigarettes and bad coffee, of sour milk and sweat.
The ceiling was low and everything looked like it had a film of dirt on it. Including most of the people.
“Thank you,” he said, shaking the hand she offered.
“Your first time here?” she asked, examining him closely.
“It is. I’m not sure I’m in the right place.”
“I felt like that too, at first. But give it a chance. Why don’t I introduce you to someone. Bob!” she bellowed.
An older man with an uneven beard and mismatched clothes came over. He was stirring his coffee with his finger.
“I’ll leave you with him,” said his young escort. “Men should stick with men.”
Leaving the Chief Inspector to wonder further just what he might be getting into.
“Hi. My name’s Bob.”
“Armand.”
They shook hands. Bob’s seemed sticky. Bob seemed sticky.
“So, you’re new?” asked Bob.
Gamache bent down and whispered, “Is this Alcoholics Anonymous?”
Bob laughed. His breath smelled of coffee and tobacco. Gamache straightened up.
“It sure is. You’re in the right place.”
“I’m not actually an alcoholic.”
Bob looked at him with amusement. “Of course you aren’t. Why don’t we get a coffee and we can talk. The meeting’ll start in a few minutes.”
Bob got Gamache a coffee. Half full.
“In case,” said Bob.
“Of what?”
“The DTs.” Bob cast a critical eye over Gamache and noticed the slight tremor in the hand holding the mug of coffee. “I had ’em. No fun. When was your last drink?”
“This afternoon. I had a beer.”
“Just one?”
“I’m not an alcoholic.”
Again Bob smiled. His teeth, the few he had left, were stained. “That means you’re a few hours sober. Well done.”
Gamache found he was quite pleased with himself and was glad he hadn’t had that glass of wine over dinner.
“Hey, Jim,” Bob shouted across the room to a gray-haired man with very blue eyes. “Got another newcomer.”
Gamache looked over and saw Jim talking earnestly to a young man who seemed resistant.
It was Beauvoir.
Chief Inspector Gamache smiled and caught Beauvoir’s eye. Jean Guy stood up but Jim made him sit back down.
“Come over here,” said Bob, leading Gamache to a long table filled with books and pamphlets, and coins. Gamache picked one up.
“A beginner’s chip,” said the Chief, examining it. It was exactly the same as the one found in Clara’s garden.
“I thought you said you weren’t an alcoholic.”
“I’m not,” said Gamache.
“Then that was a pretty good guess on your part,” said Bob with a guffaw.
“Do many people have one of these?” Gamache asked.
“Sure.”
Bob produced a shiny coin from his pocket, and looked down at it, his face softening. “Took this at my first meeting. I keep it with me always. It’s like a medal, Armand.”
Then he reached out to Gamache’s hand and folded it in.
“No, sir,” protested Gamache. “I really can’t.”
“But you must, Armand. I give it to you, and you can give it to someone else one day. Someone who needs it. Please.”
Bob closed Gamache’s fingers over the coin. Before Gamache could say anything else, Bob broke away and turned back to the long table.
“You’ll also need this.” He held up a thick blue book.
“I already have one.” Gamache opened his satchel and showed him the book in there.
Bob raised his brow. “You can use one of these, I think.” He gave Gamache a pamphlet called Living in Denial.
Gamache brought out the meeting list he found in Lillian’s home and got the look from his new friend he’d so quickly come to expect. Amusement.
“Still claim not to be an alcoholic? Not many sober people carry around the AA book, a beginner’s chip and a meeting list.” Bob examined the meeting list. “I see you’ve marked a bunch of meetings. Including some women’s meetings. Honestly, Armand.”
“This doesn’t belong to me.”
“I see.