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How did it feel?
He’d been in shacks in the middle of nowhere, carpets worn, upholstery torn, wallpaper peeling off But stepping in he’d also noticed the smell of fresh coffee and bread Walls were taken up with iraduation photos and on rusty pocked TV trays stood modest chipped vases with cheery daffodils or pussy s or some tiny wild flower picked by worn hands for eyes that would adore it
And he’d been in mansions that felt like mausoleums
He was anxious to see how Madeleine Favreau’s home felt From the outside it felt sad, but he knew ht and playful snow had gone and the flowers and trees hadn’t yet bloo the house was that it was almost impossible to ed to stuff an ar wooden bench under which piles of muddy boots and shoes had been thrown
‘My naed woman who opened the door
She was neatly dressed in slacks and a sweater Coht out his warrant card
‘It’s all right, Chief Inspector I knoho you are’ She stepped aside and let the to find her way in an indecent situation She spoke French to thelish accent She was courteous and contained The only sign of sorief had physically struck her
But Ar else Grief sometimes took time to tell The first days for relatives or close friends of murder victioing through the motions of a normal life, so that a casual observer would never know disaster had just raradually, like the old Hadley house
As he watched Gamache could almost see the inevitable horseround, straining to be released They brought the end of everything Hazel knew, all that was faeously holding off the rief, but soon it would break free and sweep down and over her, and nothing fa
‘Clara Morrow called to see hoas doing and offer so’
‘I could have brought the food I’ Beauvoir, as craainst the now closed door A few books fell from the case and Gamache rapped his knuckles on the armoire, but eventually the coat ca the coat and trying to open the ar Poor old Madame Turcotte’s had a stroke and I need to take her dinner’
They followed Hazel deeper into her ho rooh to the living roo arrived in the Dark Continent He hoped they could h space
The sest one he’d ever seen, as well as an assortment of chairs and tables The tiny brick house was stuffed, crammed, bloated and dark
‘It’s a little cozy in here,’ she said as the three of them sat, Gamache and Beauvoir on theofsat at her feet Her chair, Gamache knew But it wasn’t the best chair in the room That one was empty and sat nearest the fireplace A book was splayed open on the table under the lamp
A book in French by a Québécois writer Gamache admired
Madeleine Favreau’s seat The best in the room Noas that decided? Did she just take it? Did Hazel offer? Was Madeleine Favreau a bully? Was Hazel a professional victiood friends who decided things naturally and a ‘the best’
‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ said Hazel, sitting down as though her legs had given way Loss was like that, Gamache knew You didn’t just lose a loved one You lost your heart, your hter, your brain and it even took your bones Eventually it all caed
‘Had you known Mada?’
‘All h school Had the same home room the first year and became friends I was kind of shy but for some reason she took to me Made my life easier’