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“Evaluations of Gilbert by Cameron or others,” said Myrna. “You’d think.”

“Still,” said Armand, sitting forward. “It’s hard to believe Dr. Gilbert wouldn’t have at least known what was going on. By then Cameron had been at it for almost a decade.”

The Asshole Saint had gone, they noticed, from “Vincent” to “Dr. Gilbert,” as Gamache put distance between them.

He turned to Myrna, but before he could ask her to leave, she got up.

“I’m off. Work to do in the store.”

When she’d gone, Jean-Guy said, “Didn’t Cameron’s name come up last night? You mentioned it to Gilbert when we interviewed him.”

“Yes,” said Gamache. “I’ve been trying to remember the exact words Robinson used. She didn’t make a direct accusation. It was more subtle than that. She’d been talking about monsters and mentioned Cameron. And then she’d intimated that Gilbert was no better than him. That’s why I wanted to know what was in Dr. Gilbert’s files at McGill. But I never thought . . .”

Who would?

“But if she knew something definite,” said Beauvoir, “wouldn’t she come right out and say it? Why just hint?”

“She could’ve been toying with him,” said Isabelle. “Like a cat with a wounded bird.”

Armand could not see the Asshole Saint as a wounded bird. He was more likely the cat. Still, it was a good point. And a possible motive.

“You found nothing definite?”

“No, nothing,” said Beauvoir.

“They’d still be alive,” said Isabelle.

“Who?” asked Beauvoir.

“Cameron’s victims. Gilbert’s victims. Most must’ve been from Québec. Maybe even from around here.”

“They’d be quite old by now,” said Beauvoir. “This was years ago.”

Armand looked toward Clara’s home. Where Ruth had gone.

Ruth?

Who hurt you once so far beyond repair

That you would greet each overture with curling lip?

Did they have their answer?

“When I had lunch with Dr. Gilbert,” said Gamache, “he admitted he’d been at Abigail Robinson’s talk in the gym.”

“Could hardly deny it,” said Beauvoir.

“True. He also admitted that he saw the gun in Tardif’s hand. He says he froze.”

“But?” said Isabelle.

“When pressed, he all but admitted he wanted it to happen, wanted her to be killed,” said Gamache. “It was a split-second choice. He hadn’t done anything to protect people in the pandemic. He saw his chance to make up for it.”

“Not just in the pandemic,” said Isabelle. “He didn’t do anything to protect people from Cameron. Seems like a pattern in his life.”

Gamache was nodding. Had Gilbert finally decided to act?

Like a battlefield surgeon, had he, last night, decided to amputate the leg in order to save the body? Kill Abigail Robinson in order to save thousands?