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"Ho the phone

Beauvoir had been in his office when the call ca a case in Gaspé She’d stuck her head in the door

"It’s Inspector Norathe"

Gaether for years and she knehen to handle it herself, and when not to

"Put hih," said the Chief "Oui, Inspector What can I do for you?"

And so the battle had begun

Je ht Gamache The motto of Québec The motto of the Québécois I reent Morin said "It was great My dad took us and we even played fiddle at the skating rink Mom tried to stop him She was embarrassed, and my sister could have died, but Dad and I took out our fiddles and started playing and everyone seemed to really like it"

"That piece you played for us? ‘Colley’?"

"No, that’s a la’s too slow for skaters They wanted sos and reels"

"How old were you?" Gamache asked

"Thirteen, o Never went back"

"Maybe this year"

"Oui I’ll take Suzanne She’d love it Might even take the fiddle again"

Je ht Gamache That was the proble

In the cabin in the woods Beauvoir lay awake Normally he slept soundly, even after what happened But now he found hilow of the fireplace He could see Dr Gilbert asleep on the two chairs he’d pulled together The asshole saint had given Beauvoir the bed Beauvoir felt horrible, having an elderly man who’d been so kind, sleep on a couple chairs And he wondered, briefly, if that was the point Why be a saint unless you could also be a martyr?

Perhaps it was the peaceful cabin, perhaps it was exhaustion after pushing himself too far, or the little half pill, but Beauvoir’s defenses were down