“Aren’t you curious?” Amelia asked him.
As they watched, the car came to rest in front of a two-story white clapboard home, all lit up. Smoke came out of the chimney into the crisp night air. Puffs. As though the home was breathing.
The Commander got out of the car, but instead of walking up the path cut through the snow to the sweeping front veranda, he turned in the other direction. And walked away from the home. Toward them.
“Oh, shit. Don’t move,” whispered Nathaniel. “He’ll see movement. He’ll hear us.”
At the bottom of the hill, the Commander stopped and peered.
“Be quiet,” Nathaniel whispered. “Be quiet.”
“You be quiet,” hissed Amelia.
“Dinner’s on,” Gamache called into the darkness. “Boeuf bourguignon, if you’re interested.”
Then he retraced his steps. Followed shortly by the munching of tires on snow. He stopped and watched as a car made its way down the hill and around the village green. A single car. He looked up and saw a very faint glow approach the edge of the hill. And recede. It crept back until there was complete and utter darkness up there.
Armand Gamache walked slowly along the path to his home. Thinking. And realizing he’d been wrong.
The cadets were all in one car.
So who was in the other?
CHAPTER 10
“Are you mad at us?” asked Nathaniel.
“Mad?” asked Armand, passing him the basket of fresh rolls. “Why would I be angry?”
“Well, we followed you,” he said, taking a warm roll and holding it in his still chilled hands.
“After a fashion, yes. I’m not angry about the fact you did it, just the way you did it.”
“And we doubted you,” said Huifen. “We thought you were lying when you said you lived in the village.”
Her voice petered out as she watched Madame Gamache ladle huge spoonfuls of beef stew onto plates of egg noodles.
The young people stared as though they’d never seen food before.
Except for Amelia, who was engaged in a staring contest of her own with the other person at the table.
A broken-down old wreck. And her duck.
Commander Gamache smiled. “Doubt is never a bad thing in a S?reté du Québec agent. You did exactly as I’d hoped. You didn’t take me at my word, you looked for proof.”
“But why doesn’t this place show up on any map?” asked Jacques, speaking into his fork of boeuf bourguignon.
“There’re way smaller villages that’re on the maps,” said Huifen, managing to look at Gamache. “We didn’t believe you lived here because, well, there is no here, here.”
That brought a smile to Reine-Marie’s face as she held out her hand for Nathaniel’s plate. He’d wolfed down the first helping at a speed that would put Henri to shame, and now she spooned out more chunks of tender beef and onions and carrots along with the rich, fragrant broth.
The food in the academy dining hall had improved since the contract had been taken from a national chain and given to a local chef. But it wasn’t this.
Amelia had finished her dinner quickly, putting her head down and scooping the stew into her mouth, barely chewing. Wiping the gravy up with the rolls, she’d cleaned her plate, then sat back, her arms across her chest.
The elderly woman also sat back, and crossed her arms. Amelia had the impression that if the demon duck could have crossed its wings, it would have.
The woman, who’d been introduced to them as the Gamaches’ neighbor, Ruth, seemed to be intentionally mirroring Amelia’s actions. When Amelia reached for a drink, so did the creepy old lady.
Only, Amelia’s glass held Coke. The old woman’s was Scotch.
When Amelia ate, she ate. When Amelia sat back, she sat back.
And now they were in a staring contest.
“Well, you found the village,” said Gamache. “And solved the first mystery. And now you’ve come face-to-face with the second mystery. Why isn’t it on any map, except that one?”
“Even Google Maps doesn’t have it,” said Huifen. “And the GPS thinks we parked in the middle of the forest.”
“The middle of nowhere,” said Jacques.
“It’s still recalculating,” said Nathaniel. “She seemed quite concerned for us.”
Huifen picked up the old map from the pine harvest table and examined it again.
“And you don’t know the answer to that question?” she said, looking from the Commander to Madame Gamache and back again. “Why the village only shows up here but nowhere else?”
They shook their heads.
“What gets me is that this shows things a normal map never would,” said Huifen.
“Like the snowman and the cow,” said Jacques, leaning toward her. “Why a snowman? It can’t possibly be a landmark since it would melt away.”
“Then there’s the pyramid,” said Nathaniel.
“Maybe it was just an exercise, to pass the time,” said Huifen. “Like those old embroideries. What were they called?”
“Samplers,” said Madame Gamache.
“That’s not a sampler,” said Amelia, keeping her eyes on the wretched old wreck in front of her. “All those little lines. They’re contours. Showing elevation. It’s a real map.”
“Why was it made?” asked Huifen.
“And that’s the third secret this map has yet to give up,” said Gamache. “What’s its purpose?”
The map had seemed almost laughable when they’d first seen it hanging on the wall of the Commander’s rooms, but now it was ripe with intrigue.
“It’s sort of nice that Three Pines isn’t on any official map,” Reine-Marie admitted. “It means we won’t be disturbed.”
“Too late,” said Amelia, gesturing to Ruth.
Armand said nothing, remembering the glow on the hill.
Someone had found them.
“So where did the map come from?” asked Amelia, breaking eye contact with the crazy old lady.
Throughout dinner, the kitchen had been filled with the scents of cinnamon and brown sugar, mingling and mixing with the earthy aroma of the boeuf bourguignon and rolls.
Now Armand got up and brought something out of the oven, and the fragrance became even more pronounced.
Taking off the oven mitts, he turned to Amelia.
“It was a gift from the person who found it. He could see how much I’d admired it.”
“Olivier didn’t find it,” snapped Ruth. “I did.”
They were the first words she’d spoken, besides the “Fuck off” to Huifen when she’d tried to help the frail old woman to the table.
“True,” said Reine-Marie. “But it belongs to Olivier. Not sure if you noticed the bistro when you arrived. He and his partner Gabri own it.”
“But where did he find it?” asked Amelia. “It wasn’t drawn yesterday, it must’ve been lying around for years.”
“It was in a wall,” said Ruth. She too had broken eye contact and was looking down at the copy of the painting on the pine table.
The duck, however, continued to glare at Amelia, winning the contest.
“It’d been walled up,” said Ruth.
“What?” asked Nathaniel. “Why?”
“Why?” asked the Commander, putting bowls of warm apple and raspberry crisp with melting Coaticook vanilla ice cream in front of them. “That’s a very good question.”
He could tell by their faces that the cadets were beginning to appreciate that an investigation wasn’t linear. It was like the map, with contour lines and winding roads. And obstacles. And every now and then you came across something completely unexpected.
“Why put a map into a wall?” Gamache asked.
“It was waiting,” said Ruth.
“Now, Ruth,” said Reine-Marie. “Don’t play mind games with our young guests.”
“It’s no game. There’s something strange about that map. I feel it. And I know you do too.”
She’d spoken to Armand. After he gave a curt nod, the old woman turned to Amelia, resuming the staring contest.
“And so do you.”
“I feel nothing. None of this matters. It’s an exercise,” said Amelia. “An assignment. Nothing more. And not even a very interesting one.”