‘But why stop her? She’d be worth much more afterwards. Besides, I have a feeling that American contract was another of CC’s delusions. We’ll see. But even so, why kill her mother?’

‘Was L from Three Pines, do you think?’

‘I do, and we need to concentrate tomorrow on finding people who knew her. I have another one for you.’ Their plates were just about empty now and Beauvoir was mopping up the juices from his steak with a roll. ‘Why throw the video away? It was perfectly good, as we saw.’

A waitress took their plates and a cheese platter arrived.

‘These are all from the monastery at Saint-Benoît-du-Lac,’ said Olivier, waving a cheese knife over the platter. ‘Their vocation is making cheese and Gregorian chants. All their cheeses are named after saints. Here’s Saint-André, and this one’s Saint-Albray.’

‘And this one?’ Beauvoir pointed to a large wedge on the wooden platter.

‘That would be Saint-Blue Cheese,’ said Olivier. ‘And this is Saint-Cheddar. Damn. Another good theory blown.’ He cut them off slices of each and left a basket of baguette and crackers.

‘I know how he feels.’ Gamache smiled, spreading Saint-André on a thin cracker. They ate in silence and Gamache looked at the younger man across the table. ‘What’s bothering you?’

Beauvoir peered over the rim of his glass then drained the last of his wine just as their cappuccinos arrived. ‘Why’d you order Nichol to stay behind?’

‘Are you upset that I countermanded you?’

‘No,’ Beauvoir said, but knew that was indeed part of it. ‘I don’t like my orders contradicted, especially in front of the team.’

‘You’re right, Jean Guy. I wouldn’t normally do it.’

Beauvoir knew that to be the truth. In all the years they’d worked together it had only happened a handful of times, and then only in the most dire situations.

Was this a dire situation? Gamache was sitting forward now, his face suddenly weary. And Beauvoir could have kicked himself. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

‘You don’t trust her, do you? You don’t trust Nichol.’

‘Do you?’

Beauvoir thought for a moment, then nodded his head. ‘She’s impressed me. As you know, I have no love for the woman. I thought she was a complete disaster on her last case, but this time? I think it’s possible she’s changed. But you don’t?’

Gamache waved his hand slightly as though dismissing the suggestion. It wasn’t very convincing.

‘What is it?’ Beauvoir leaned forward now. ‘Tell me.’

But Gamache was silent. There was only one thing, in Beauvoir’s experience, that could produce that kind of silence in his boss.