Strange occurrences, apparitions of polymorphic supernatural phenomena that might be seen as extraordinary elsewhere, were entirely ordinary in Breton spheres. For Nolwenn too—officially Dupin's assistant, but unofficially "the boss," as she had eventually become known in the commissariat—the supernatural was something entirely normal.

"I don't want to say it's true"—Riwal gave Kadeg a look of compassion—"but unfortunately, it is."

Kadeg wasn't the type to show his feelings, but right now he looked like a little heap of misery.

"How old is your aunt?" asked Nevou.

"Eighty-nine. But still entirely robust. The very picture of health. Her mother lived to ninety-eight."

Riwal nodded. "Death doesn't care about health."

Dupin was about to protest. If she was "the picture of health," why would the old lady suddenly die now? There were more than a few centenarians in Brittany. And she clearly had the genes for longevity.

But he swallowed down his words. It was futile. He knew the stories about the "omens of death"; there were so many of them. And at times they were very mundane, which in Dupin's opinion made them slightly comical. Almost everything could herald death: the almighty ankou. For example, when dogs howled at night, or candles blew out in churches, or if you dreamed of horses—unless they were white ones—or if your eyes suddenly welled up or you were gripped by a sudden shudder. Particularly alarming was when crockery fell and shattered. Seemingly the signs only applied in specific constellations—otherwise every person in Brittany would see their own imminent death heralded on a daily basis, and it would be a ghost region. Dupin himself would have been a dead man a hundred times over. Especially perfidious was the omen of having three lights on in a house at the same time. That, people said, meant a particularly painful death was imminent. Only a few of the omens, in Dupin's opinion, had a convincingly mysterious character. For example, if you woke up in the morning with waxy yellow flecks on your hands. Or, perhaps even more improbably, if you saw someone running around in your dream with a big bundle of dirty laundry.

"Perhaps you should take your aunt to the doctor, Kadeg. Just to be on the safe side." Dupin spoke gently, striving to be empathetic.

Nevou, Riwal, and Kadeg stared at Dupin in disbelief.

"If her time has come, then it really has. There's nothing you can do to change it," Nevou explained. "No one can. Not even a doctor."

It sounded like "especially not a doctor." Riwal nodded reverently.

"Have you visited your aunt recently?" asked Dupin.

"On Sunday—yesterday." Kadeg hesitated. "She's gradually saying her good-byes."

Which would take some time. Dupin didn't know much about Kadeg's aunt, but he did know she was the supreme head of the impressive Kadeg family clan. The inspector had lost his parents at a young age, in a car accident, when he had just turned eighteen. All of a sudden, he'd had to get by on his own. Though his aunt, his mother's sister, had kept an eye on him. She seemed to be the one who held the family together. If Dupin had correctly interpreted the numerous stories he'd heard over the last decade, then Kadeg was very fond of her. She lived in the high north of Brittany, near Aber Wrac'h, by one of the three legendary abers, as they were called on the northwest coast of Finistère—rivers that expanded into estuaries. The aunt owned a former medieval abbey, including some parklands—the abbey gardens.

"I understand." It seemed a little macabre to Dupin. "I mean, I'm very sorry," he swiftly added. "About your aunt."

Nevou, Riwal, and Kadeg once again gave the commissaire a disapproving look. Dupin's words had sounded a little like "my condolences."

"She's not dead yet," protested Kadeg. "She—"

"Would anyone like a café?" Paul interjected, saving the commissaire. "Oh, and the new apples are in. I have a tart with delicious Reinettes d'Armorique, still warm from the oven."

One of the dozens of Breton apple varieties.

"Absolutely." Dupin's response burst forth. "And a café."

"Wonderful." Paul nodded.