“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Beauvoir whispered to Gamache.

“Clara’s an excellent driver. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mean that, and you know it.”

“Clara will be fine,” said the Chief.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Jean-Guy leaned forward just as the car started to move.

“Are we there yet?” he asked.

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Myrna asked Clara.

“He’ll be fine.” She pressed the gas and turned the car toward the road out of the village. The north road.

“I’m hungry,” said Jean-Guy. “I have to pee.”

As they passed the bench at the top of the hill, inscribed with Surprised by Joy, Gamache turned in his seat. And looked back.

And there he saw Reine-Marie standing in the middle of the road.

He turned away, concentrating on the road ahead and trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

“Now what?” asked Jean-Guy.

He’d naturally turned to Gamache, but the Chief deflected the question over to Clara.

They’d gone around to all the B and Bs in Baie-Saint-Paul. All the country auberges. All the hotels, both shabby and high-end.

No Peter.

To make matters worse, Baie-Saint-Paul was enjoying the height of the summer tourist crush, and it became clear that while they were having trouble finding Peter, they would also have trouble finding a place to stay that night.

Clara looked this way and that, up and down the crowded main street. It was hot and she was frustrated. She’d thought they’d drive into Baie-Saint-Paul and find Peter standing on a street corner. Waiting.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Myrna said, and Clara nodded, grateful for the help. “I think we need to regroup. We have to find someplace to sit down and think.”

She looked around at the crowded terrasses and the happy tourists eating and drinking and laughing. It was all very annoying.

“We’ve thought enough,” said Clara. “That’s all we did for days and days in Three Pines. Now we need to act.”

“Thinking is an action,” said Gamache from a few paces away. “Running around might feel good, but it accomplishes nothing. And at this stage, wasting time is doing damage.”

“He’s right,” Myrna said, and received a filthy look from Clara.

“I have to use the toilet.”

“You said that all the way here,” snapped Clara.

“Well, this time it’s true.”

They turned to look at Jean-Guy, who was shifting from one foot to the other.

Clara surrendered. “Oh, Christ. Okay. Let’s regroup.”

“This way.” Jean-Guy pointed and led them down a slight hill, along a narrow side street, taking them further and further away from the tourist hubbub.