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“Well, yes. I was telling Gabri about the elephant, and thought, since you’re here…”

“You want to see it?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, as long as you don’t touch it.”

A minute later they were standing in the evidence room. A single bright bulb hanging from the ceiling lit the odd assortment of items.

Armand put on gloves and picked up the bronze statue.

Gabri, by instinct, reached out, then drew his hands back and leaned in, moving his head this way and that. Then he stepped away.

“That’s it. That’s ours. My great-grandfather brought it back from India. I dusted it every day, I should know.”

“Every day?”

“Well, whenever we had guests staying in the room. It has the dented ear and crooked tusk from when someone dropped it.”

“Someone?”

“Focus, Olivier, that isn’t the lede here.”

“But ours didn’t have all that engraving, did it?”

“No,” Gabri admitted, looking closer. “But it’s still ours.”

Armand lifted the piece to the light and took a closer look at what was etched into the animal’s bronze skin. It didn’t form a pattern and it wasn’t writing of any sort. But there was something.

“All right, let’s say it is your elephant,” said Gamache. “Tell me again what happened. How and when this went missing from the B&B.”

“A guest was staying in that room,” said Olivier. “And when she left, the elephant was gone too. You asked for her name. I have it. And her address.” He brought a slip of paper out from his pocket.

“Lillian Virginia Mountweazel,” Armand read.

“Yes!” said Gabri. “That’s her. Can’t forget that name. I tried to get in touch with her, but she never answered the messages.”

“When was this?” asked Gamache.

“Eighteen months ago,” said Olivier. “I can give you the exact dates of her stay.”

“How long was she here?” As Armand spoke, he noticed Jean-Guy trying to catch his eye.

“She was booked in for a week, but left after five days,” said Olivier.

“Why would she want to take my great-grandfather’s elephant?” said Gabri. “Never mind put it in the attic room. It’s just bizarre.”

“It is that,” said Armand.

Replacing the statue, he ushered the men out of the room and to the door.

“Well, good night.” He gently closed the door in their baffled faces. Then he quickly crossed to Beauvoir’s desk.

“What’ve you got?”

“Look.”

Jean-Guy had highlighted a passage. It described Patricia Godin’s injuries and concluded they were compatible with a death by hanging. Suicide.