Page 79 of The Grey Wolf
Then Annie spoke—“Maman?”—putting down the knife and stepping toward the door.
Just then, there was a small sound. A ding.
Reine-Marie looked down at her phone.
All’s well. Arrived safely.
She looked at Annie and Daniel, then turned and walked quickly back to the study, where, her back against the closed door, she slid to the floor. And wept.
CHAPTER20
The last notes of vespers, reluctant to leave, drifted down the long corridors to the far reaches of the monastery before fading into the walls. As though the abbey of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups were made not of stone but of notes, of neumes.
“I heard the plane overhead,” the monk who’d led the service said as he approached the three visitors, “and sent Brothers Auguste and Patel out to make sure you were all right. I’m glad you’re safe, Chief Inspector. For a few moments there…” He lifted one slender hand, palm up, in an eloquent gesture.
“Oui,” agreed Gamache. “Us too, for a while there.”
The monk turned to Jean-Guy. “Inspector Beauvoir. Welcome back.” Then he returned to Gamache. “I don’t know if you remember me. Frère Simon.”
“Yes, I remember. You’re the Abbot’s secretary. I’d like to speak with Dom Philippe,” said Gamache. “I didn’t see him at vespers.”
“You wouldn’t. He’s not here.”
Gamache stopped and stared at the monk. “Where is he?”
Now Simon looked uncomfortable. “We don’t really know. He left me in charge.”
“You and I need to talk,mon frère.”
“Agreed, but not right now. Come. You must be hungry.”
Jean-Guy realized he was. Having lost his lunch, he was now lookingforward to dinner. Beside him, the pilot’s eyes had widened in happy anticipation.
“They’re vegetarians,” Beauvoir warned as they followed the monk down another corridor. Jean-Guy was pleased to burst that carnivore’s bubble.
The dinner turned out to be delicious, starting with squash and wild garlic soup, followed by a casserole of baked ratatouille and goat’s cheese.
Baskets of warm fresh-baked bread were passed around, along with churned butter and wooden boards filled with various cheeses. The meal concluded with an apple crisp and thick cream.
All the food was grown, or foraged, by the monks.
“Where’re the blueberries?” Jean-Guy asked the young monk beside him, who just shrugged. Then looked around and whispered, “Too early.”
“Shame,” said Jean-Guy. The tiny chocolate-covered wild berries were a specialty of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups.
The meal was eaten, like all else in the abbey, in silence, except for the prayers that began and ended it.
Armand had arrived late, having convinced Brother Simon that he needed to use the phone. The request had a dual purpose. He knew that the only telephone in the abbey, one connected to a not-very-reliable satellite dish for emergencies, was in the Abbot’s office. It would allow him to try to get through to Reine-Marie. And also to do a quick search of the offices.
“I know the way,” said Armand.
“I’m sure you do, Chief Inspector, but I’ll still come with you. The monastery at night can be a confusing place. We’ve lost several postulants.” He shook his head sadly, then smiled at Armand.
“Well, perhaps we’ll find them,” said Armand.
“At this stage, I hope not.”
Gamache was no longer completely sure it was a joke.
