‘They didn’t have to,’ said Gamache. ‘The murderer must have detached the heating lamp before anyone showed up, and clipped the cables onto the chair.’ He strode from the phantom truck to the phantom lamp and further onto the ice, to the imaginary chairs. ‘While everyone was at the community breakfast he took the cables from the lamp and clamped them onto the leg of the lawn chair, then took the other end off the generator.’

‘But wouldn’t people have noticed that the lamp wasn’t working?’ Lemieux asked.

‘They did. At least two people talked about how cold it was, including Kaye Thompson. That was what made me believe that lamp was never on.’

‘I still don’t understand why no one saw anything,’ said Beauvoir.

‘Well, for one thing, any sound he made, his boots on the snow for instance, would be masked by the generator. And Mr Williams’s truck was behind the stands. Not exactly hidden by them, but anyone in the stands would have to work to see it. The only people who could have seen anything were Kaye and CC. But there’s more. At first I thought we were dealing with a very lucky person but now I think it wasn’t luck but careful planning. The murderer chose his moment precisely. He waited until all eyes were guaranteed to be on the curling.’

Agent Lemieux tried to see it all. The curlers, the spectators, the two women in their lawn chairs. The electrified chair sitting just ahead of them.

‘Something special happened in the match,’ said Gamache, walking now toward the ice, then turning round to look at the two perplexed officers. ‘Mother Bea cleared the house. It was a tradition. How many times have we heard that in the last two days? Some people come just to see that. And why? We found out today. In a sport that thrives on subtlety and finesse, that’s the most passionate of plays. Almost violent. Imagine the sound of Mother’s stone as she hurtles it down the ice with all the force she can muster. Imagine that stone hitting another stone at the far end, then that stone hitting another and another. An entire chain reaction. Within moments curling stones would be smashing off each other, going in all directions and causing a monstrous noise. Very exciting.’

‘Riveting,’ said Beauvoir.

‘And noisy,’ said Lemieux, and he had the satisfaction of seeing Chief Inspector Armand Gamache turn to him, a huge triumphant smile on his face, his eyes lively with delight.

‘Got it. That’s it. What a perfect moment for murder. Who was going to tear their eyes from the spectacle? And who would hear the screams of a woman being electrocuted? It was perfectly timed.’

‘But how did he know CC would even grab the chair, never mind at that very moment?’ Beauvoir asked.