Page 60 of The Grey Wolf
“I asked what brought him to Three Pines.”
“And?”
“He just said he’d heard about it from someone. I asked who, but he didn’t seem to remember.”
“Did he ask about me?”
“You? No. Why would he?”
“His accent?”
“Québécois. Educated. But there was a slight twang in certain words. You know?”
Armand nodded. People often tried to hide their upbringing, but it was like caging an animal. It might not be free, but it was still there.
“Tell me you didn’t wake me up at four thirty in the morning just to ask about our guest and some horrible drink he had us make.”
“Actually, I did. Can you show me Monsieur Gilbert’s reservation?”
“Well, I can, but it doesn’t say much. He called, and I took down the information. He didn’t do it online. Here.”
Olivier opened the calendar on his phone. He wasn’t wrong. The reservation simply said,P. Gilbert. Montréal.There was a phone number and the date he’d be staying. No address.
Armand took down the information. “When did he make the reservation?”
“A few days earlier. Not long.”
“How did he pay?”
“Now that was a little strange. He paid cash. Almost no one does these days.”
Armand took a sip of the strong, smooth coffee, and considered. Maybe the appearance of the Last Word on the bundle sent to the office and the recipe from the B&B guest was just a coincidence. It often happened that obscure things appeared in clusters. Unrelated. Then disappeared just as suddenly.
“There’s a party and I wasn’t invited?”
They turned to find Gabri in his huge pink frilly dressing gown and bunny slippers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Olivier. “My husband.”
“What’s going on?”
“Armand came by to ask about that cocktail.”
“At this hour? And here we thought Ruth was the one with the problem. It’s all right, Armand, you’re among friends.”
When Armand just smiled, Gabri went on, in a more serious tone. “Didn’t Reine-Marie tell you how awful it was? Blech. Even Ruth couldn’t drink it, and she drinks from the toilet bowl.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” said Olivier.
“I saw her once.”
While the two argued, Armand stood up. “Thanks for the coffee and croissant.”
“You didn’t touch it. Take it home for Reine-Marie.”
“Merci.I will.” He wrapped it in a napkin and put it in his pocket. “I imagine you’ve already cleaned his room.”
“Whose?” asked Gabri.
