“Of course not. Why would I tell him that the canvases he was taking back and forth were riddled with asbestos? Do you think he’d have done it?” Massey glanced quickly over to the bed. “He served his purpose. But he had one last thing to do for me.”

“Take the blame,” said Gamache.

In his peripheral vision he could see Peter. Petrified.

Turned to stone. And wishful thinking.

Clara stared ahead. At Peter.

And Peter stared at her.

Massey, on the other hand, was staring at Gamache.

“Yes. And it almost worked. I came here to confess to something that was now obvious. I’d put asbestos on the canvases. In my dotage, and as I prepared to meet my own maker, I was consumed with guilt and regret. So I came here to beg Sébastien for forgiveness. And then turn myself in. But my accomplice, Vachon, couldn’t allow it. He’d be implicated. So he killed Sébastien, then me. And it worked. Your man was looking for Vachon, to arrest him. For murder.”

“Oui. That’s what I thought,” Gamache admitted.

“What changed your mind?” asked Massey.

“The picture.”

“What picture?” Massey was getting agitated.

“The portrait from the yearbook. Everyone assumed it was a self-portrait, by Norman. But it wasn’t, was it? It was you. He recognized the rage, the fear in you. And you hated him all the more for it.”

“You recognized me from the dock just now. I thought maybe you had. I actually thought Clara would. And when she left the diner in such haste, I was sure she was coming here. Looking for you. To tell you.”

“So you followed her.”

“I’m sorry, Clara.” The professor held her tighter and breathed into her ear. “You moved faster than I expected. I couldn’t get to you before you got here.”

His breathing had settled down. He seemed to expect Gamache to say something, but instead he remained silent.

“I was going to get on the plane,” Massey explained. “But the storm delayed it. So I had to wait for the boat. Otherwise I’d be long gone. Bad luck, all around. And then when the ship arrived, what did you do? You came straight for me.”

“That must have been a bad moment for you,” said Gamache, as though this was a cocktail party, and a man with a knife was perfectly normal.

He needed to get Massey calm. To have him see the reality of the situation.

The man was clearly terrified. Terrified animals ran off cliffs.

And Massey looked headed for a cliff.