Of course, there wasn’t a fire, nor did Ruth expect to find one. Still, she’d learned that most people, while claiming to hate authority, actually yearned for someone to take charge. To tell them what to do.

CC was flat on her back. Dead. Ruth knew that immediately. But she still had to try.

‘Olivier, you do the massage. Peter? Where’s Peter Morrow?’

‘Here, here.’ He was making his way through the crowd, having had to sprint across the lake from the curling rink. ‘What’s happened?’

‘You give her mouth-to-mouth.’ To his credit Peter didn’t hesitate. He fell to his knees beside Olivier, ready to go, both men staring up at Ruth. But there was one more order she had to give.

‘Gabri, find her husband. Clara?’

‘Here.’

‘Find the daughter.’

Then she turned her back on them, certain her orders would be followed, and started counting.

‘Did you have any idea what had happened to her?’ Gamache asked, bringing her back to this world.

‘None.’

Was it his imagination or had her hard eyes wavered? He kept silent for a moment but nothing else came.

‘What happened then?’

‘Billy Williams said he had his truck ready to go and we should put her in. Someone had already called the hospital but it would take twenty minutes for the ambulance to arrive and twenty minutes to get back. This was faster.’

She described the horrific journey to Cowansville and it pretty much tallied with what he’d heard earlier from Peter Morrow.

‘What time is it?’ she demanded.

‘Five to five.’

‘Time to go.’ She got up and led the way down the hall, without looking at them, as though her salvation lay beyond her front door. Agent Lemieux heard clinking and rattling in the closets as their heavy feet passed by. Skeletons, he thought. Or bottles. Or both.

He didn’t like Ruth Zardo and he wondered why the chief seemed to.

‘Out.’ Ruth held open the door and they’d barely gotten their boots on before she was shoving them out with an arm far stronger than he’d have thought.

Gamache reached into his parka pocket and produced not the tuque or mitts Lemieux expected to see, but a book. The chief walked over to the single porch light that split the darkness and placed the book under it for Ruth to see.

‘I found this in Montreal.’

‘You are brilliant. Let me guess. You found it in a bookstore?’

‘Actually, not.’ He decided not to tell her yet.

‘And I suppose you’ve chosen this moment to ask me to sign it?’

‘You’ve already done that. Could you come and look, please?’

Agent Lemieux braced for the acerbic response but none came. She limped over and Gamache opened the slim volume.

‘You stink, love Ruth,’ Ruth read out loud.

‘Who did you give this to?’

‘You expect me to remember what I say in every book I sign?’