‘You chose life,’ said Gamache.

‘No I didn’t. I was just too scared to die. Not like that anyway.’ He leaned forward, his eyes intense, staring at Gamache. ‘There’s something in that house. Something that attacked me.’

‘Not any more, monsieur. You killed it.’

‘I did?’ He leaned back as though shoved by this unexpected thought.

‘It was a baby robin. Probably as scared as you.’

It took Monsieur Béliveau a moment to understand.

‘I was right, then. The thing that brings death was in that room,’ he said. ‘It was me.’

THIRTY-FIVE

‘Love what you’ve done with the place,’ said Olivier as he set out the napkins and bowls at the old railway station. Putting the soup tureen on the filing cabinet under the list of murder suspects he was happy to see his name wasn’t there, and happier still to see Gabri’s was. Wait until he told him. Freak him out completely.

A steaming chicken stew with dumplings was placed in the middle of the conference table.

The Chief Inspector had stopped by the bistro to ask Olivier to bring them lunch.

‘How’s Monsieur Béliveau?’ Olivier had asked. He’d seen Gamache walk along the Common from his home.

‘He’s been better, I imagine,’ Gamache had said.

‘And worse. I remember how sad he was after Ginette died. Thank God for Hazel and Madeleine. Brought him out of himself. Invited him to everything, especially important days like Christmas. Saved his life.’

As he’d walked back to the Incident Room Gamache wondered whether Béliveau would thank them for that. He also thought of Hazel, alone now herself, and wondered whether eventually the two would gravitate together.

Once back at the old railway station Gamache was met by Beauvoir, just back from searching Hazel’s home. Within minutes Agent Lacoste arrived from Montreal and they gathered around the conference table. The meeting was in full swing when Olivier came with lunch.

He took his time, but still they didn’t say a word. Inspector Beauvoir ushered him to the door and closed it firmly behind him. Olivier leaned in to the cold metal for a moment but heard nothing.

There was, in fact, nothing to be heard, except serving spoons on porcelain as red lentil and curried apple soup and rich, chunky stew were served up. Soft drinks were popped open and Beauvoir had a beer.

‘Reports,’ said Gamache.

‘We found the ephedra,’ said Beauvoir, putting the medicine bottle on the table. ‘We took fingerprints and transmitted them to Montreal.’ He’d already reported to Gamache, but now the rest of the team heard about the search and the discovery.

‘Sophie Smyth denies the stuff’s hers,’ said Beauvoir, ‘but she would. She’s admitted strong, maybe obsessive feelings for Madeleine. And she’s a liar. I wasn’t sure about her injured leg, but when she had to she sure ran on that ankle fast enough. You should have seen her mother’s face.’

‘Angry about the faked ankle?’ asked Lemieux.

‘You can’t really be that stupid,’ said Nichol and Lemieux shot her a look of unmistakable loathing.

‘Agent Nichol, I’m warning you,’ said Gamache.

‘No really,’ said Nichol. ‘How are you possible?’ she asked Lemieux, who was gripping the table. ‘Hazel Smyth was stunned to see the ephedra bottle in her daughter’s possession,’ Nichol said very slowly into Lemieux’s face. ‘This is a murder investigation. Not a doctor’s office. Who the fuck cares about her ankle, except a moron.’

‘That’s it. Come with me.’ Gamache walked across the room to the door, taking the medicine bottle with him. Nichol caught Lemieux’s eyes and jerked her head in Gamache’s direction.

‘He means you, asshole.’

Lemieux made to get up.

‘Agent Nichol,’ Gamache called, his voice cold and carrying.

Nichol smirked at Lemieux and shook her head as she got up, mumbling ‘Fucking loser’ as she walked by.

‘What’s wrong, sir?’ she asked at the door. Her cockiness had vanished with her audience. It was just the two of them now.

‘You’re going too far. You have to leave.’

‘You’re firing me?’

‘Not yet. I’m sending you to Kingston, to ask questions about Sophie Smyth at Queens University.’

‘Kingston? But that’s half a day away. I won’t get there ’til dark.’

‘Later than that. You need to drop this at the lab on your way through Montreal. I want the results tomorrow morning.’