The Cruelest Month

‘What happened then?’



Sandon was breathing heavily, back in that wicked room, surrounded by darkness and terror and something else.



‘She could hear something coming. Then she clapped her hands. I thought I’d die. There were two screams, maybe more. Horrible sounds. Then a thump. I was almost blind with fear but I saw Madeleine drop. I was too scared to move at first, but Clara got there and so did Myrna. By the time I could move a few people were gathered around Madeleine.’



‘Including Monsieur Béliveau?’



‘No, he wasn’t there. I got there before him. I thought she’d just fainted. Honestly I was grateful it was her and not me. And then we turned her over.’



‘I couldn’t believe it,’ said Jeanne, remembering back to that face she’d spent the last two days running from. ‘We tried to find a pulse, tried to do CPR, but she was so rigid it was impossible. It was as though she was frozen in place, as though the life had been ripped right out of her. You say a drug called…’ she seemed to struggle for the name. Gamache let her, wondering whether this was an act. ‘I’ve forgotten the name, but some drug did that?’



‘Ephedra. It’s actually an herb, a natural substance. It’s used by people who want to diet, but it’s been banned. Too dangerous. What was your impression of the group?’



‘This was actually the second séance. The first was Friday night at the bistro.’



‘Good Friday,’ said Gamache.



‘There were tensions I could feel, mostly from two of the men. Not Gabri. The other two. The tall, sad man and the huge bearded one. But men are often like that at séances. They either don’t believe and are full of negative energy, or they do believe and are embarrassed by their fear. Again, negative energy. But I actually had the impression they weren’t just upset about being there. I think they didn’t like each other. The big man was more obvious about it, but that grocer man—’



‘Monsieur Béliveau,’ said Gamache.



‘There’s something dark about him.’



Gamache looked at her with surprise. What little he knew of the man he liked. He seemed courtly and almost timid.



‘He’s hiding something,’ said Jeanne.



‘We all are,’ said Gamache.



‘You come here every day?’ Beauvoir asked after Sandon had finished his story. It sounded like a pickup line and Beauvoir tried not to blush.



‘Uh huh. To find the wood for my furniture.’



‘I saw some of your stuff at the store. It’s fantastic.’



‘The trees let me do it.’



‘They let you cut them down?’ asked Beauvoir, surprised.



‘Of course not, what do you think I am?’



A murderer? Beauvoir completed his thought. Did he think that?



‘I walk the woods and wait for inspiration. I only use dead trees. I guess we have a lot in common, you and me.’



For some reason this pleased Beauvoir, though he couldn’t think what they had in common.



‘We both deal in death, profit by it you might even say. Without dead trees I’d have no furniture, without dead people you’d have no job. Course, you people sometimes hurry it along.’



‘What do you mean?’



‘Come on, did you read the paper today?’ Sandon reached behind him and pulled a folded and crushed tabloid from his back pocket. He handed it to Beauvoir, pointing with one filthy finger.



‘See. I thought they’d put all the rotten ones in jail, but I guess there’s one still out there. Or out here, really. You seem like a decent sort. Must be tough having a dirty boss.’



Beauvoir barely heard the comments. He felt as though he’d tumbled into the paper and was trapped by the words. One word.



Arnot.



Jeanne was quiet for a moment, taking in the small wooden chapel. Simple white and green lily of the valley filled it with fragrance so that the place smelled of old wood, lemon Pledge, books and flowers. And it looked like a jewel. Sunlight was made green and blue and red as it passed through the stained glass windows, the most prominent of which wasn’t the risen Christ behind the altar, but the one on the side of the chapel. With the three young men in uniform. The sun passed through them and spilled their colors onto Gamache and Jeanne, so that they were sitting in the warmth, the essence, of the boys.



‘Be careful.’ She turned away from Gamache and looked at a patch of red light at his feet.



‘What do you mean?’



‘All around you, I can see it. Be careful. Something’s coming.’