He braced himself for abuse, but none came. “I believe in inspiration, and I believe it’s divine. Whether it’s God, the angels, a tree, or a muse doesn’t seem to matter.”

“Myrna talked about the power of belief,” he said.

“She sounds wise. I’d like to meet her one day.”

Gamache smiled. This conversation was over.

“Merci, you drunken wretch,” he said, and heard her laugh. In the background Rosa was yelling, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You must have the wrong number.”

Ruth hung up and went off to sit with Rosa, her muse, who inspired her not to be a better poet, but to be a better person.

Gamache stood in the dark and looked through the window again. At Clara. And Marcel Chartrand.

Perhaps that was why the gallery owner had invited them here, thought Gamache. Not as part of some sinister plot to get them away from Baie-Saint-Paul. But something far simpler. And far more human.

This was where Marcel Chartrand lived, alone. Clinging to the rocky outcropping. He’d invited Clara into his home.

Noli timere.

Be not afraid.

Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

Jean-Guy Beauvoir was on hold. Waiting, waiting.

Gamache could see him through the windows in the living room. Pacing.

The phone in Gamache’s hand rang.

“Reine-Marie?”

“Oui, Armand. I have news. The registrar at the art college called back.”

“So late?”

“Well, she was having difficulty finding Professor Norman’s file. I think she’d normally have given up and just gone on vacation, but the fact it was missing was bothering her.”

“Did she find it?”

“No.”

“I might not hold the presses after all,” he said, and heard her laugh.

“There’s more. She didn’t find it but she did call the temp they had working for them at the end of the semester. She admitted digging out the file for someone else.”

“Peter?”

“Peter. And I think I know why he hung around Toronto so long,” said Reine-Marie. “He’d asked for the file in the winter, but it took a long time to find it.”

“Months?”

“Well, not that long, but all the old files had been put in boxes when repair work was done years ago. What took so long was that she had to make sure the files weren’t contaminated with asbestos dust, from the renovations. That fits with the timing that Professor Massey told us about. By the time the temp got the okay that the files were fine, a few weeks had gone by, and it was spring.”

“If the temp found the file, why can’t the registrar?” Armand asked.