There it was. And as the silence settled once more over the two friends like a snowfall Gamache could suddenly see the depth of the problem. And that he’d unwittingly taken Beauvoir and the others with him. And now they were being buried beneath layers of lies and loathing.

‘The Arnot case isn’t over, is it?’ Gamache held Brébeuf’s unblinking eyes. He knew then the courage his friend had shown in telling him this.

‘Be careful, Armand. This is more serious than even you know.’

‘I believe you’re right,’ Gamache admitted.

And now Superintendent Francoeur had sent Agent Nichol back. Of course, it could mean nothing. Probably only meant she’d annoyed them so much Francoeur had decided to get his little revenge by sending Nichol to him. Yes, that was the most likely explanation. A malicious little joke, nothing more.

SEVENTEEN

‘Success,’ Beauvoir said, striding into the warm situation room and shedding his heavy coat. He tossed his tuque onto his desk and his mitts soon followed. ‘You were right. The photographer has the pictures.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Gamache, clapping him. ‘Let’s see.’

‘Well, he doesn’t have them on him,’ said Beauvoir, as though that was really too much to expect.

‘Where are they?’ asked Gamache, his voice somewhat less thrilled.

‘He mailed the film to the lab he uses in St-Lambert. They went by priority post so they should arrive by tomorrow.’

‘At the lab.’

‘Précisément.’ Beauvoir could sense a little less enthusiasm than he would have wanted. ‘But he says he took hundreds of pictures at the breakfast and the curling.’

Beauvoir looked around. Isabelle Lacoste was engrossed in her computer and Agent Yvette Nichol sat off at the other end of the table by herself, as though on an island, watching the mainland that was Gamache.

‘Did he see anything?’ Gamache asked.

‘I asked. He claims that as a photographer he’s so focused on taking the pictures he’s not actually paying attention to what’s happening, so he was as surprised as anyone when CC keeled over. But he did say his assignment was to photograph CC, and only her, so his camera was trained on her the whole time.’

‘Then he must have seen something,’ said Gamache.

‘He might have,’ conceded Beauvoir, ‘but maybe he didn’t know what he was seeing. Had she been stabbed or bludgeoned or strangled he probably would have reacted, but this was less obvious. All CC did was get up and touch the chair in front of her. Nothing strange in that, certainly nothing threatening.’

It was true.

‘Why did she do it?’ Gamache asked. ‘It’s true what you say, though: it certainly wouldn’t attract any attention, but it’s still an odd thing to do. And we only have Petrov’s word that he was busy photographing his client and not busy electrocuting her.’