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As they walked down the corridor toward the stairs, past the creatures, past their features in the stone wall, Gamache stopped.
“You know, I’m thinking it might be best if you go into McGill, Jean-Guy.”
“Good idea, patron. Assign me to an English medical library. At least we’ll have the element of surprise.”
Lacoste laughed. “Your vast well of ignorance is finally paying off.”
“Now, just one question,” said Jean-Guy. “What’s McGill again? Ha, McGilligan. An Irish Gilligan’s isle.” He seemed inordinately pleased with himself.
Gamache laughed and held Beauvoir’s eyes, bright with amusement and intelligence. He did love the young man.
“You’ll do fine. Shouldn’t take more than three hours.”
Beauvoir laughed. “Why the change, Skipper?”
“I want to talk to Vincent Gilbert. I think he’ll be more open with me.”
Both Isabelle and Jean-Guy suspected that was true. One of the many features of the Asshole Saint was his snobbery.
Jean-Guy found his mother-in-law in the bookstore discussing Enid Horton’s monkeys with Myrna.
“I agree,” said Myrna. “If you can find where she drew the first monkey, that might help understand where it came from.”
When asked if she’d go to McGill with him, Reine-Marie said she was more than happy to. She liked the Osler. It was a hidden treasure, considered by those in the know as the finest medical library and archive in North America. And just about completely unknown by everyone else.
To be polite, Jean-Guy asked Myrna if she’d like to come along. Dr. Landers was, as it turned out, very familiar with the library, having spent hours there as an undergrad.
And so the little party set off.
Armand spotted Vincent Gilbert in the living room of the Auberge, sitting in front of the fire, reading. All evidence of the party the night before had been cleared away.
“Bonjour, Vincent,” said Armand. “I’m looking for a lunch companion. Would you join me?”
“On you?”
“On the Sûreté.”
“That means you’ll be grilling me?”
“At least,” said Armand, as they made their way across the hall. “Maybe even puréeing.”
Vincent smiled.
They passed Isabelle, who was at the front desk asking after Haniya Daoud.
“Last I heard she was in the stables,” said the front desk clerk.
“Merci.” Inspector Lacoste hesitated, then asked, “Are Marc or Dominique Gilbert around?”
“The owners?” the young man said. “Madame Gilbert’s in the office. Would you like to see her?”
“I’ll just go in,” she said, before the clerk could stop her. Though to be fair, he showed absolutely no desire to try.
Chapter 29
The langoustines are excellent,” said Vincent Gilbert, as they took their seats by the window.
On a clear day there was a splendid view of the village below and the hills beyond, rolling into Vermont. But the falling snow both obscured and softened it, giving the landscape a dreamlike quality.
