‘The morning of the day she died.’ It took a force of will to drag his eyes from Gamache over to the tense man in the other chair. ‘She came over and we had sex. It was only a physical relationship, nothing more. She didn’t care for me and I didn’t care for her.’

There it was. A mean little thing. He exhaled, feeling lighter already.

‘Did she tell you why she bought a place here?’ Beauvoir asked.

‘In Three Pines? No. I wondered that myself. She had a reason for everything, though, and most of the time it was money.’

‘You think money motivated her?’

‘It always did. Even our affair. I’m not stupid enough to think she slept with me for the great sex. It was to get a photographer cheap. Payment in kind.’

He was surprised how ashamed he felt. Even as he spoke it seemed unbelievable. Had he really given CC a break on his bill in exchange for sex?

‘I could be wrong, but I had the impression CC bought a place here because there was something in it for her, and I don’t mean peace and quiet. From what I could tell the only thing CC de Poitiers loved was money. And prestige.’

‘Describe your movements on the day she died,’ said Beauvoir.

‘I got up about seven and lit the fire, then put on coffee and waited. I knew she’d come and sure enough around eight she arrived. We didn’t talk much. I asked how her Christmas was and she shrugged. I feel badly for her daughter. Can’t imagine having a mother like that. Anyway, she left about an hour later. We made arrangements to meet at the community breakfast.’

‘When did she decide to go?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Well, did she decide to go to the breakfast and curling at the last minute, or was it something she’d planned to do for a while?’