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"That’s that library, isn’t it? The place you’ve been working?" Émile broke open a croissant and the flakes tumbled to the table Éht before so he and Gamache hadn’t seen each other since the murder

"The Lit and His, yes," said Gamache

Émile looked at him with mock seriousness "You can tell me Arer Now, a friend"

Érew quiet "Poor lois was good enough to let "

As they ate Ga him with succinct questions

Finally Émile Comeau leaned back in his chair, his breakfast finished but another appetite piqued "So what do you think, Ar? Why ask for your help if they aren’t afraid?"

"You’re quite right, they are afraid, but not of the truth I think they’re afraid of how this looks"

"With good reason," said É question, Ga as who killed the man Why was he at the Literary and Historical Society?

"Ée hands round his"You’re a member of the Champlain Society You know a lot ? Could Champlain possibly be buried there?"

"Come for lunch at the St-Laurent Bar" Émile stood "I’ll have some people there who can better answer that"

Ga he rarely did but the place he was going didn’t welcos, cats, hamsters, horses, chipmunks Birds

And yet there were only people at St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church for Sunday service, and quite a few The benches were filling quickly He recognized soossip than God Most of the day’s congregants, he suspected, had never been inside this church, perhaps never even realized it was there It had been discovered, along with the body

English Quebec was on parade

All the peere built in a se the pulpit and Ga bench near the side of the church He sat quietly for a few s

The church seeht and cheerful stained glass s The thick walls were plastered and painted a crea at It was painted a fresh robin’s egg blue and rose above the sweeping, graceful se else struck the Chief Inspector There wasn’t a crucifix in sight