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

by Louise Penny

Myrna brought out her map of Quebec. After a couple of minutes she carefully folded it up and leaned against the car in amazement. The village wasn’t on the map. It showed places that hadn’t existed in decades. It showed minuscule fishing villages and any community with two houses and a church. But not this one.

Myrna leaned her bulk forward in her rocking chair. Around her were the usual stacks of books waiting to be inspected and priced. Clara had the impression they sprang legs and followed Myrna about the village. Wherever she was there were books, like very unwieldy calling cards.

Here it is then, the dark thing, the dark thing you have waited for so long. And after all, it is nothing new.

When my death us do part Then shall forgiven and forgiving meet again, Or will it be, as always was, too late?

As his grandfather used to say, ‘You don’t want to go into your head alone, mon petit. It’s a very scary place.’

dark eyes were alert and her light brown hair was held off her face by a wide band. Lemieux noticed

Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering, There’s a crack in everything, That’s how the light gets in.’