A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2)

by Louise Penny

And that was one of the problems they were facing. Everyone looked alike in the Quebec winter. Like colorful marshmallows. It was hard to even distinguish men from women. Faces, hair, hands, feet, bodies, all covered against the cold. Even if someone had seen the murderer, could they identify him?

He watched the dogs frolic and recognized with a smile what they were playing with. Sonny’s favorite winter treat. Frozen poop. Poopsicles. He even missed that.

Agent Yvette Nichol edged up to the car in front of her in the fast lane of the autoroute, heading from Montreal back to the Townships. Her bumper was just inches from the car in front. Any minute now the driver would notice. That was the moment. That exquisite moment. Would he hit the brake? Even a slight tap would send their cars careering together at 140 kilometers an hour and they would be a fireball within seconds. Nichol gripped her steering wheel tighter, her eyes keen with concentration and rage. How dare he slow her up? How dare he use her lane? How dare he not pull over? Slow, stupid man. She’d show him, as she showed anyone who stood in her way. Rage made her invincible. But there was something else too. Glee. She was going to scare the shit out of the driver.

‘We’re not in Kansas any more,’ said Gabri. ‘We’re in?’ he beseeched Peter. ‘Three Pines,’ said Peter, finally getting it. ‘CC’s mother was from here?’ ‘And her initial was L,’ said Myrna.

‘You went in there because his name was Saul?’ Gamache had asked, not mocking, but wanting to be clear. She’d nodded, not even feeling defensive or needing to explain or blame. He’d sat back in the seat, staring out the window at the still burning house, the efforts of the firefighters no longer to save it but to let it burn itself out. ‘May I give you a piece of advice?’ Again she’d nodded, eager to hear what he might say. ‘Let it go. You have your own life. Not Uncle Saul’s, not your parents’.’

‘You can’t live in the past and you certainly can’t undo it. What happened to Uncle Saul has nothing to do with you. Memories can kill, Yvette. The past can reach right up and grab you and drag you to a place you shouldn’t be. Like a burning building.’

All was silent. All was bright. He tilted his head to stare at the stars. The entire sky was brilliant with them. He thought perhaps this was his favorite part of the day. Standing under a winter’s sky, the stars looking as though God had stopped a storm and the millions of flakes were suspended in the air. Bright and cheerful.