Page 233
“Took me a while. I’d thought it strange that Stephen would have screws with him. So I thought it might be that. But the ones in Stephen’s box weren’t made from neodymium. I now think he and Plessner had a collection of normal screws, and invested in Daniel’s venture capital company—”
“Screw-U,” said Reine-Marie as Commander Fontaine shot her a confused look.
“—in order to cover up their interest in the real hardware,” said Gamache. “I dismissed the screws because they weren’t magnetized. But Stephen, thanks to Plessner, had another one.”
He walked over to one of the large oil paintings and removed it.
“See here?” he pointed to the wall. “A picture hook.”
“So?” said Fontaine. “I have them hanging my pictures. What’s so strange about that?”
“Nothing,” Gamache said, replacing the work. “What is strange is that he’d use a screw to hang a tiny, inconsequential painting. Why was that? Normally, if you were going to use a screw at all, it’d be for the largest, heaviest paintings. Why use it for the tiniest? And then there was what it’s hung by.”
Reine-Marie turned the painting around. “It’s a nylon string, not a wire. And the little eye hooks are plastic.”
“Exactly. I thought it was because the painting was obviously inexpensive. But then I began to think the reason was far different. Stephen hung this painting from the most valuable thing he now owned.”
“And it was within feet of them, inches, all the time?” said Fontaine. “What would’ve happened if they’d found it?”
Armand and Reine-Marie returned to the hospital where, twelve hours later, Stephen regained consciousness.
The first thing he saw was Armand and Reine-Marie and, behind them on the wall, the peaceful little painting.
“You found it,” he rasped.
CHAPTER 45
It was dusk when they got into cars at the Montréal airport and headed south across the St. Lawrence River toward, but not quite to, the Vermont border.
Once off the autoroute, the small procession took smaller and smaller roads until finally turning onto a dirt road.
There were no signs pointing the way. The GPS showed that they’d left the known routes and were now wandering in a sort of wilderness. But they knew they weren’t lost.
Just the opposite.
At the crest of the hill, Armand stopped the car, and by mutual and unspoken consent, he and Reine-Marie got out. And helped Stephen out.
The three of them stood in the cold October evening. A light snow was falling, and they could just make out the forests and the rolling hills stretching to the horizon. While below them in the valley, as though in the palm of some great hand, was a small village.
Buttery light shone from the fieldstone, brick, and clapboard homes that surrounded the green, turned white with freshly fallen snow. The crisp night air held a hint of maple smoke, from the chimneys.
And in the very center of the village, three great pines swayed in the breeze.
Reine-Marie touched Armand’s arm and pointed.
Someone had put the lights on in their home so that their wide front verandah was illuminated.
Getting back in the car, they drove slowly around the village green, passing Monsieur Beliveau’s general store, the boulangerie, the bistro.
They could see Olivier and Gabri chatting with patrons. At the sight of their headlights Gabri turned and, nudging Olivier, they waved.
Myrna’s bookstore was dark, but there were lights in her loft above.
Roslyn and Daniel pulled up behind his parents, and Jean-Guy and Annie behind them. Together they unloaded the vehicles of luggage and children.
One by one, villagers came over to lend a hand.
Clara Morrow opened her front door, and across the green came bounding Henri. His huge satellite ears forward, his tail wagging furiously, the shepherd raced across the snow-covered grass and plowed straight into Armand, almost knocking him off his feet.
