‘Henri knows dinner time and when it’s time for his promenade,’ said Em after Gamache had told her what was bothering him. ‘I don’t want to compare El to my puppy, but in the end she was like that. Almost all instinct. El lived on the streets; she was crazy, covered in her own excrement, obsessive and drunk. But she was still the purest soul I’ve ever met. We looked for her outside Ogilvy’s, then the bus station. We eventually called the police. That’s when we found out she’d been killed.’

Em broke eye contact, her self-possession slipping. But still Gamache knew she’d have to endure one more question.

‘When did you know it was her daughter who killed her?’

Émilie’s eyes widened. ‘Sacré,’ she whispered.

THIRTY-FIVE

‘No,’ Beauvoir screamed at the television. ‘Stop him. Defense, defense.’

‘Watch it, watch it.’ Beside him Robert Lemieux was twisting on the sofa, trying to check the New York Ranger who was racing down the ice at the New Forum.

‘He shoots!’ the announcer screamed. Beauvoir and Lemieux leaned forward, all but clasping hands, watching the tiny black dot on the screen shoot off the Ranger stick. Gabri was gripping his easy chair and Olivier’s hand was stopped halfway to the cheese plate.

‘He scores!’ the announcer shrieked.

‘Thomas. Fucking Thomas.’ Lemieux turned to Beauvoir. ‘They’re paying him what? Sixteen zillion a year and he can’t stop that.’ He gestured to the screen.

‘They’re only paying him about five million,’ said Gabri, his enormous fingers delicately spreading a piece of baguette with Saint-Albray cheese and dabbing a bit of jam on top. ‘More wine?’

‘Please.’ Beauvoir held out his glass. It was the first hockey game he’d watched without chips and beer. He quite liked the cheese and wine change-up. And he was realizing he quite liked Agent Lemieux. Up until this moment he’d seen him as a piece of mobile furniture, like a chair on wheels. There for a purpose, but not to be friendly with. But now they were sharing this humiliating defeat at the hands of the crappy New York Rangers, and Lemieux was proving himself a staunch and knowledgable ally. Granted, so were Gabri and Olivier.

The Hockey Night in Canada theme was playing and Beauvoir got up to stretch his legs and walk around the living room of the B. & B. In another chair Chief Inspector Gamache was making a call.

‘Thomas let in another,’ said Beauvoir.

‘I saw. He’s coming too far out of the net,’ said Gamache.

‘That’s his style. He intimidates the other team, forces them to shoot.’

‘And is it working?’