‘But this is bullshit,’ he said after a minute skimming the information. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Who was the technician?’ He checked the signature at the bottom and grunted. ‘Still, must have been an off day.’
‘I thought so too,’ said Lacoste, enjoying the looks on their faces. After all, she’d had the hour and a half drive down from Montreal to think about the results. ‘I had him do them twice. That’s why I’m late.’
The papers made their way round the room, arriving at Agent Nichol last.
Gamache took them back and placed them neatly in front of him. The room was silent while they all thought. The fire crackled in the woodstove and the coffee bubbled and perked, sending little puffs of aroma into the room. Lacoste got up and poured herself a cup.
‘What do you think it means?’ Gamache asked her.
‘It means Crie is no longer in danger.’
‘Go on.’ Gamache leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
‘It means we’ve found out who killed L, and that person’s no threat to Crie,’ said Lacoste, watching their faces as she spoke. Gamache, she could tell, was with her, though one step behind. Beauvoir was listening, struggling to keep up, and the other two were simply baffled.
‘What’re you talking about?’ demanded Beauvoir impatiently. ‘The genetic tests say clearly L was CC’s mother. We got that from the blood samples taken at the autopsy.’ He tapped the report in front of Gamache.
‘That’s not the interesting part,’ said Gamache, separating one of the sheets and handing it to Beauvoir. ‘This is.’
Beauvoir took the sheet and read it again. It was the tests done on the necklace. The blood on the screaming eagle pendant belonged to L, but they already knew that. He looked at the next paragraph. The one describing the blood on the leather strap.
Same blood type, of course. Blah, blah, blah. Then he stopped. Same blood type, but not the same blood. It wasn’t L’s blood on the leather. It was CC de Poitiers’s. But what was CC’s blood doing on the necklace?
He looked over at Gamache who was at his own desk now, grabbing a file and bringing it back to the conference table. He opened it and skimmed a few pages, then slowed down and read more carefully.