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“He had nothing to do with what happened. I acted alone.”

“We know that isn’t true.” Her voice grew cold and hard. “Listen, despite what happened, no one was actually killed. If you cooperate, we can move forward and end this. We’ll find out soon enough. You must know that. We’re having your brother picked up. It would be better for you, for him, if you just tell us.”

Édouard Tardif crossed his huge, muscled arms over his chest. Isabelle Lacoste pushed some more, but it was obvious that the interview was over.

“The arraignment’s scheduled for tomorrow,” said Gamache as he walked Maître Lacombe to the front door of the detachment.

“Merci, Armand. I’ll be there.”

“Tell your client to cooperate,” he said. “If there’s a co-conspirator out there, we don’t want him harming Abigail Robinson, or anyone else. If he succeeds, Monsieur Tardif will be charged with murder. And that charge will hold. You know that.”

Maître Lacombe slipped on her gloves and nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Bon.”

At the door, Gamache said, “It sounds as though you agree with Professor Robinson.”

She paused and looked at him. “Don’t you? What sort of society allows its people to suffer when there’s no hope? It would be a kindness.”

“It would be a cull.”

“Culls happen for the health of the community. They’re unfortunate, but necessary. Bonne année, Armand.”

Chapter 16

The party was in full swing when Armand and Reine-Marie walked into the Auberge just before ten o’clock that evening.

A huge spruce, fragrant and festooned with sparkling glass ornaments, candy canes and strings of popcorn, dominated one corner of the living room.

Pine boughs with bright red bows rested on the mantelpiece along with tall columns of flickering candles. Beneath the mantel, a fire crackled in the grate.

Marc Gilbert had hung a sprig of mistletoe on the chandelier in the entrance, and people were hugged and kissed as they arrived.

Armand smiled as he looked around. And felt a wave of relief.

A year ago . . . a year ago . . . this had seemed impossible. Gone forever. As the second wave hit and the virus spread, taking with it more shops, more jobs, more freedoms, more lives.

But just as things had fallen apart so quickly, so too did they recover once the vaccine was discovered and shared among nations.

Like a forest after a fire, he thought, as he took their coats to a back room where a bed was heaped high with them. There was loss, but vivid new life had also emerged from the ash.

Stores had reopened. Hotels and restaurants were packed. Employment was higher than ever. It was as though people were awakening after a long nightmare and wanting to make up for lost time. To enjoy a freedom they no longer took for granted.

Returning to the foyer and looking through the living room windows at the far end, he spotted Florence, Zora, and Honoré. They were outside with the other children, roasting marshmallows by the bonfire, supervised by Monsieur Béliveau the grocer.

He then scanned the room and found Reine-Marie chatting with Clara and Ruth. He caught Clara’s eye and recognized the look.

Even though it had been years since Marc and Dominique Gilbert had taken over, Clara couldn’t yet call the place the Auberge, or the Inn and Spa. It would always be the Old Hadley House to her. And to him.

It would always be the horror on the hill, overlooking their pretty little village. The Old Hadley House watched as they went about their lives. Their happiness, their contentment, only seemed to make its shadow longer, darker. Elongating toward them even as the paint peeled, the roof lost shingles, the wood rotted. The happier they were, the fouler it had become.

It was a menace. The villagers held a meeting, and it was decided that they should tear it down. But then one lone voice made another suggestion.

They’d turned in their seats in St. Thomas’s church and stared in astonishment as Ruth Zardo suggested maybe it could be saved.

A vote was taken and the decision reached to give the place another chance. And so, it was rebuilt, refurbed, repainted by the villagers. Cleaned and even cleansed in a ritual led by Myrna, using sage and sweetgrass and holy water.

Then, when they’d done all they could, the Old Hadley House was sold at cost to the young couple and became the Inn and Spa.