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They walked together across the village green before separating. It was a brilliant fall day, crisp and cold. Though there was a warning in the wind. A growl through the trees that would soon, they knew, become a bite. Something was coming at them from the north.

Something was about to happen.

When he entered the bistro, he stood at the door to let his eyes adjust. He saw Evelyn waving from an armchair and indicated he’d be with her in a moment, then went over to the new server.

“Salut, mon frère,” he said quietly. “Everything okay?”

“If you call being held here against my will okay, then yes, splendid.”

“There are worse prisons, and you know you can leave. But…”

“But thanks to you, if I poke my head up, I might be murdered. Like the Abbot. Like Brother Robert.”

For a long time, Armand had believed this unhappy monk, the former acting Abbot of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups, knew more. In fact, knew where Charles’s missing laptop was hidden. Since they’d found the map in the monastery, why wouldn’t Charles or the Abbot also send the laptop there?

But the monastery had been searched many times over, and nothing. And slowly Armand had come to the conclusion that this monk who’d opened mail and snooped into all his confrères’ private lives was, in fact, telling the truth.

He didn’t know where that elusive laptop might be.

Still, Armand had hidden Frère Simon in this hidden village, to keep him safe from the Black Wolf. As days turned to weeks and months, he had watched as Brother Simon, a Gilbertine who’d taken a vow of silence, had begun to open up. To speak. To make friends. To actually know the daily specials and master the complicated espresso machine. Had begun to fit in.

Simon had found his place. Not behind an altar but behind a counter, in service.

“Let me know if anything odd happens,” said Armand.

“Ruth hasn’t been in for her morning toddy. Does that count?”

“Close. I’ll keep it in mind.”

And Brother Simon actually smiled.

Evelyn stood as he approached, and kissing her on both cheeks, he asked why she was waiting for him in the bistro and not their home.

“I arrived early and was frankly starving. I didn’t want to trouble Reine-Marie. I did offer to help her prepare lunch, but she had it all under control. You married up, Armand.”

He was peering at her in the way she recognized but still hadn’t gotten used to. Once such a brilliant man, such a brilliant mind, now his expression more often than not was perplexed. Even blank.

Evelyn realized she should speak in short, declarative sentences. She also realized she had not lied to Moretti on their stroll through the Jean-Talon market the day before. Armand Gamache was clearly no longer the force he once was. Not a threat. By the time he realized something was happening, it would be long over.

This was the real reason she’d accepted his invitation to Sunday lunch. To make sure. Now she could go home. Except she was committed to what promised to be a long and tedious lunch.

At least she’d had a delicious brioche here in the bistro while she’d waited.

“Excusez-moi,” said Armand, taking out his phone. “I need to set my alarm, to remember to take out the chicken.”

“Of course.” Though her heart ached a little, to see this once great leader reduced to anxiety over roast chicken.

She watched as his brow furrowed, and wondered if even that simple task, of setting the timer, was proving too much. How much damage had that explosion done?

But now he got up and, “Désolé,” took a few steps away from the table before turning his back on her.

At that moment she was distracted by another vehicle arriving.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered as she recognized the man getting out.

“Anything?” asked Vivienne.

“Rien.” Nothing.