‘Sure.’ She led him into her studio and over to her crowded desk. Turning the lamp on she riffled the stacks of papers. He watched her until his eyes wandered, drawn to something shining on the bookcase behind her desk. He stood still for a moment, almost afraid that if he moved the object would flitter away. Silently, slowly, he edged forward, creeping up on it. As he moved he put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. Reaching out, his hand steady and true, he delicately hugged the object in the handkerchief and picked it off its stand. Even through the cloth it felt almost warm.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ said Clara, as he drew back and held the object under the lamp. ‘Peter gave it to me for Christmas.’

In his palm Gamache held a glowing ball. A scene was painted on it. Three pine trees with snow heavy on the branches. Underneath was the word Noël, and below that, very lightly, was something else. A single capital letter.

L.

Gamache had found the Li Bien ball.

Peter Morrow looked as though he’d been cornered, and he had. When asked Clara had happily declared that the lovely ornament was the very first Christmas gift Peter had ever bought for her. Up until this year, she’d explained, they’d been too poor.

‘Or too cheap,’ said Ruth.

‘Where did you get it?’ Gamache asked, his voice polite, but with a firmness that demanded an answer.

‘I forget,’ Peter tried, but seeing the determination in Gamache’s eye he changed his mind. ‘I wanted to buy you something.’ Peter turned to Clara, trying to explain.

‘But?’ Clara could see where this was going.

‘Well, I was driving to Williamsburg to shop – ’

‘The Paris of the North,’ explained Gabri to Myrna.

‘Famous for its shops,’ agreed Myrna.

‘ – when I passed the dump, and—’

‘The dump?’ Clara exclaimed. ‘The dump?’

Now Lucy the dog started snaking between Clara’s legs, upset by the frequency Clara had achieved.

‘Careful, you’ll shatter the ball,’ said Ruth.

‘The dump.’ Clara’s voice deepened and she lowered her head, her eyes glowering at Peter who wished, as Ruth had earlier, that maybe the house could just explode now.

‘The Jacques Cousteau of dumpster diving has struck treasure again,’ said Gabri.

‘You found this,’ Gamache held the Li Bien ball up, ‘in the Williamsburg dump?’

Peter nodded. ‘I was just looking, just for fun. It was a mild day so everything wasn’t frozen together. I wasn’t there long and that thing just caught my eye. You can see why. Even now just by lamplight it’s glowing; you can imagine what it looked like in broad daylight. It was like a beacon. It was calling to me.’ He looked at Clara to see if maybe that would work. ‘I think I was meant to find it. Destiny.’

She remained unconvinced of the divinity of his gift.