Page 88

“Ahh, it’s always worth wishing. Bonne année, Sharon.”

Dr. Harris watched them walk grim-faced down the corridor, to do the very worst part of a job rife with terrible deeds. Then she walked into the night, the new year biting at her flesh.

Chapter 21

Not surprisingly, the library was lined with bookshelves. A worn oriental rug was on the floor, and the room was furnished with old leather chairs and a deep green velvet sofa.

Gamache nodded toward the French doors, and Beauvoir crossed the room.

“Locked,” he reported.

Despite the fact the fire had been reduced to ash and a few embers, the room was pleasantly warm.

Abigail got to her feet when they entered. Chancellor Roberge stood beside her, a hand on her arm.

Gamache knew there was no gentle way to put this and trying would only prolong the agony. It was best to be quick, clear, though not, if possible, brutal.

He was also aware that he was simply confirming what Abigail Robinson already knew. But that did not diminish the pain of what he was about to say.

“A body has been found in the woods.” He paused a beat and dropped his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s Deborah Schneider. She’s dead.”

Abigail tensed and lowered her head, turning it away slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though hit by a particularly bitter gust.

Then she lifted them to Gamache. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Abigail compressed her lips and steadied herself, lifting her chin slightly.

“Thank you. I know this must be difficult for you . . .” Her voice trailed off, but her eyes remained fixed on Gamache.

Beauvoir, who loathed what this woman stood for, quickly searched his feelings for any sign of pleasure at her pain, and found none.

“Please,” he said, indicating the sofa. “Sit.”

The Sûreté officers dragged up chairs, so they were within feet of them.

“Did Madame Schneider have family?” Beauvoir asked. “Someone who should be notified?”

“Oh, God. Her parents. And a brother. They’re all out west. Should I . . . ?”

“We’ll arrange for them to be told,” Beauvoir said, and saw her relief. “But we will need their address and phone number if you have them. With social media, these things get out.”

“Of course,” said Abigail and fumbled for her phone. She gave them the information.

“Can you tell me how?”

“Not yet.” Jean-Guy hesitated a moment before saying the next part. “Only that it was no accident.”

Both he and Gamache watched closely for a reaction. It wasn’t hard to see.

Now both Abigail’s and Colette’s mouths dropped open. But nothing came out. Not even, it seemed, breath.

“Meaning?” Colette Roberge finally managed.

“Meaning Debbie Schneider was killed,” said Gamache.

“Killed?” whispered Colette. “Murdered?”