How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #9)

by Louise Penny

They waited. A great deal of police work involved waiting. For suspects. For autopsies. For forensic results. Waiting for someone to answer a question. Or a doorbell.

It was an odd experience, Gamache realized, to be interrogated. For that’s what this was. Gentle. Friendly. But an interrogation.

The eyes that met his, as he scanned the open room, were curious, some pained, some searching, some simply inquisitive, as though he carried a sack of answers slung over his shoulder.

“Then you think that had something to do with her death? The fact she was a Ouellet Quintuplet?” “I don’t really know, but it’s extraordinary, and when someone is murdered we look for the extraordinary, though, to be honest, we often find the killer hiding in the banal.” Myrna laughed. “Sounds like being a therapist. People normally came into my office because something happened. Someone had died, or betrayed them. Their love wasn’t reciprocated. They’d lost a job. Gotten divorced. Something big. But the truth was, while that might’ve been the catalyst, the problem was almost always tiny and old and hidden.”