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And Jean Guy, across the living roo down at hi

"Christ," said Castonguay in disgust, and gestured to the rooeneral "That’s it The end of the world The end of civilization" He slurped his drink toward Brian "He tattoos ‘Mother’ on bikers and calls himself an artist Maudit tabernac"

"Coet souay by the elbow and tried to lead hiuay shook hiood artist in years Not her" He gestured toward Clara, just co the drain for years Stuff’s trite Sentimental Portraits" He almost spat the word

People were stepping away, leaving Castonguay alone in the void

"And hi his next victim It was Peter "His stuff’s OK Conventional, but I could sell it to Kelley Foods Bury it in their Guateh fucking Kelley’s won’t allow drinking Ruins the corporate iuess I won’t be able to sell you after all, Morrow But neither will he"

Castonguay fixed a belligerent look on Denis Fortin "What’s he been pro you? Solo shows? A joint show? Orlawn furniture, for all he knows about art Stank at it hi he’s good at is naled subtly to Lacoste The three officers positioned theuay, but let him continue

François Marois appeared at Gamache’s elbow

"Stop this," he whispered

"He’s done nothing wrong," said the Chief

"He’s huitated "He doesn’t deserve this He’s sick"

"Now, you two" Castonguay swirled and lost his balance, stuainst the sofa

"Jeez," said Ruth, "don’t you just hate a drunk?"

Castonguay righted himself and turned to, and on, Normand and Paulette "Don’t think we don’t knohy you’re here"