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But he only got a few lines in before stopping. Taking off his glasses, he reached out and held his godfather’s cold hand, warming it in both of his.

Then Armand closed his eyes and whispered, “Hail Mary, full of Grace. Hail Mary, full of Grace.”

Over and over. He knew the rest of the prayer, but just kept repeating that first line.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace.”

And then, dropping his head to Stephen’s hand, he whispered, over and over, “Help me. God, help me.”

Reine-Marie quietly entered the hospital room and stood in the shadows, watching.

Armand’s head was resting on Stephen’s hand. His voice muffled by the bedding.

But she knew what he was doing.

Hush, hush, she thought. Whisper who dares. Armand Gamache is saying his prayers.

CHAPTER 17

It was just after three o’clock when Irena Fontaine and her second-in-command entered Daniel and Roslyn’s apartment.

They were met at the door by a man in his early thirties. Bearded, tall, substantial. That much was obvious. But Fontaine was skilled at seeing what others might miss.

His eyes, while serious, were thoughtful, warm even. Here was a man it would be easy to like, she thought. And trust.

Which meant she immediately distrusted this Daniel Gamache, despite the fact he was Chief Inspector Gamache’s son.

But then, Commander Fontaine was far from sure she trusted the father.

When she entered the living room, she saw the rest of the family, on their feet and turned to her. The large room felt even bigger thanks to the three floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the metal roofs, the garrets, the chimney pots.

It was a timeless Paris view.

Before starting the interview, her number two took down the particulars of everyone in the room.

Reine-Marie Gamache was a senior librarian and archivist. Retired.

Annie was an avocate. A trial lawyer who’d trained in Québec but qualified for the French bar and was on maternity leave.

Roslyn worked in marketing for a design label, and Daniel was a banker.

He looks, thought Fontaine, a lot like his father. If you removed the beard, the resemblance would be remarkable. And she wondered if that was why the son had grown the beard. So that he needn’t see his father in the mirror, examining him at the beginning and end of every day.

When they were asked for their addresses, Daniel shifted in his seat, and he and Roslyn exchanged glances.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” he said, then turned to the rest of them. “This won’t be our home much longer. We’re moving.”

“Moving?” asked Reine-Marie. “Home?”

There was no mistaking the hope in her voice and the gleam in her eyes.

“This is home, Mama,” he said. “No, we’re putting in an offer on a place in the Sixth Arrondissement.”

“Three bedrooms,” said Roslyn. “The girls will each have their own. And it’s close to their school in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”

“But they go to school around the corner here,” said Annie.

“Not next semester,” said Roslyn. “They’ve been accepted into the Lycée Stanislas.”