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And his address? 1809 rue des Jardins 1809 Not a time then, but a street number Were they to meet there first then head to the Lit and His?

There were a few other nauing with or editors who’d turned down his ist, was h his nae Croix-Merde

Booksellers, ustin Renaud’s life It seemed if he had a relationship with anyone it ith them Gamache jotted down their naht, and Beauvoir was sitting on a plastic garden chair in Ruth’s kitchen He’d never been in her home before Gaed off those interviews

He disliked the wretched old poet immensely which hy he was there

"OK, dick-head, talk"

Ruth sat across from him, a pot of watery tea on the white pre-formed table, and one cup Her thin ar to keep her innards in But not her heart, Beauvoir knew That had escaped years before, like the duck In tis fled Ruth

He needed to talk to someone, but someone without a heart, without compassion Someone who didn’t care

"You knohat happened?" he asked

"I read the papers you know"

"It wasn’t all in the papers"

There was a pause "Go on" Her voice was hard, unfeeling Perfect

"I was sitting in the Chief’s office--"

"I’ story?"

Beauvoir glared at her "The call ca"