“No, I don’t. We’re checking alibis now, but so far everyone seems in the clear.”

“And Brian?” asked Lacoste.

“He’s a little more difficult, of course. His prints and DNA are all over the crime scene, but you’d expect that. The clothes he was wearing also had her hair and some minute particles of skin and blood, but he found her, and he thinks he touched her body, so again—”

He put up his hands.

“His alibi checks out,” Lacoste read from the report.

“Oui,” said Beauvoir. “His cell phone shows him in Montréal the whole time, but as we know, he could have deliberately left it there.”

“We know Antoinette took her uncle’s things over to the playhouse the day she died, maybe even that evening,” said Gamache. “Anyone see her do it?”

“No,” said Jean-Guy. “We have witnesses though who saw her that afternoon at the grocery store, the bakery and the Société des alcools, where she bought two bottles of wine.”

“The autopsy reports a dinner of pizza, tarte au chocolat and red wine,” said Lacoste. “Her blood alcohol was well above the limit, and there was an empty bottle in recycling.”

“And the other bottle?” asked Gamache.

“In the cupboard, unopened,” said Beauvoir.

Gamache pondered for a moment. “What does it sound like to you?”

“Sounds like an alcoholic,” said Jean-Guy.

“Sounds like a woman letting herself go for a night,” said Lacoste. “You guys have no idea how attractive sitting around in sweats eating junk and guzzling wine sounds to any woman. Nice dinner in Paris? Forget it. Give me pizza, wine, chocolates and sweatpants and I’m happy.”

Beauvoir and Gamache looked at her.

“Motherhood,” she explained. “Annie will understand one day. And I bet if you ask Reine-Marie—”

“But she wasn’t in sweats,” said Gamache. “She was in her street clothes.”

“True,” said Lacoste. “She had casual clothing in her closet. She could’ve changed.”

“But didn’t,” said Gamache. “Why not?”

“Maybe she meant to, but got into the wine right away,” said Beauvoir. “And got so shit-faced she no longer noticed or cared what she was wearing. I think the wine was to numb herself. She was obviously afraid. Why else take those things to the theater?”

“But if she was so afraid, why did she let Brian go to Montréal?” asked Lacoste. “If I was afraid, I think I’d want company.”

“Brian?” asked Beauvoir.

“Okay, he’s no Rottweiler, but it’s better than being alone if you’re that afraid.”

“Why was the door unlocked?” asked Gamache. “She was afraid enough to get her uncle’s things out of the house, but then she gets home and leaves the door unlocked?”

“Habit?” asked Lacoste. But she was unsatisfied with that answer.