Chapter Thirty-SevenDufort was furious. Another death just a few blocks from Desrosiers’s house, and nothing he and the other gendarmes did seemed to get them any closer to apprehending the murderer.
“How did LaGreffe not know about the danger?” he demanded. Perrault leaned against the wall with her head bowed. Maron was expressionless.
“We put notices up all over the village,” Perrault said. “And made plenty of noise online. Thing is, the people the murderer is targeting—women over seventy years old—a lot of them don’t have computers. We need to think of a better way to reach them.”
“Look, we can go door-to-door to every single house and warn people, but the murderer will just switch her delivery method,” said Maron. “It’s face cream today, but it could be, I don’t know, a fruit drink
