‘It was a horrible night,’ he said. ‘One of the worst I can remember.’

‘Who was he?’

‘A man named Saul Petrov.’ Gamache waited to see if there was any reaction. There was only polite interest. ‘A photographer. He was taking pictures of CC.’

‘Why?’

‘For her catalogue. She was planning to meet with an American company in hopes of interesting them in her project. She had aspirations of becoming a style guru, though her aspirations seemed to have gone beyond style.’

‘A kind of “one-stop” shop,’ suggested Em. ‘She’d refurbish you inside and out.’

‘CC de Poitiers dreamed big, that’s certain,’ agreed Gamache. ‘You said you met CC a few times, but did you ever meet her family? Her husband and daughter?’

‘Only from a distance, not to speak to. They were at the Boxing Day curling, of course.’

‘And the Christmas Eve service at the church here, I understand.’

‘C’est vrai.’ Em smiled at the memory. ‘She’s deceptive, the daughter.’

‘How so?’ Gamache was surprised to hear this.

‘Oh, not in a devious way. Not like her mother, though CC wasn’t as deceptive as she would have liked to believe. Far too transparent. No, Crie was shy, withdrawn. Never looked you in the eye. But she had the most enchanting voice. Quite took our breath away.’

Émilie cast her mind back to the Christmas Eve service in the crowded chapel. She’d looked over at Crie and seen a girl transformed. Joy had made her lovely.

‘She looked just like David when he played Tchaikovsky.’

And then that scene outside the church.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Gamache asked quietly, noticing a troubled look settling on Em’s face.

‘After the service we were standing outside. CC was on the other side of the church. It’s a short cut to their home. We couldn’t see her, but we could hear her. There was also the strangest sound.’ Émilie pursed her lips, trying to recall it. ‘It was like Henri on the wood floors when I don’t clip his nails. A clicking, only louder.’

‘I think I can solve that mystery for you,’ said Gamache. ‘I believe those were her boots. She’d bought a pair of baby sealskin mukluks as a Christmas present for herself. They had metal claws attached to the soles.’

Em looked surprised and disgusted.

‘Mon Dieu, what must He think of us?’

‘You said you could hear more than her boots?’

‘She screamed at her daughter. Tore into her. It was awful.’

‘What about?’ asked Gamache.

‘What Crie was wearing. True, it was unconventional. A pink sundress I believe, but CC’s main complaint seemed to be Crie’s voice, her singing. Her voice was divine. Not the way Gabri uses the word, but really divine. And CC mocked her, belittled her. No, it was more than that. She eviscerated her. It was horrible. I heard it all and did nothing. Said nothing.’

Gamache was silent.