NINE‘Her name was Cecilia de Poitiers,’ said Agent Robert Lemieux in answer to Gamache’s first question. ‘But everyone called her CC. This is where it happened, sir.’ Lemieux was trying not to sound too eager. But best not to sound blasé either. He stood up straighter and tried to look like he knew what he was doing.
‘Here?’ Gamache was bending over the snow.
‘Yes sir.’
‘How do you know?’ Jean Guy Beauvoir asked. ‘It all looks the same to me.’
And it did. Snowy footprints everywhere. The Santa Claus parade might as well have marched through his murder scene. Beauvoir shoved his black ski hat further down his head and tugged the ear flaps into place. It was the closest thing he could find to an attractive hat that was also almost warm. Jean Guy Beauvoir was constantly at war with himsel
