All the Devils Are Here

by Penny, Louise

  She and her husband, Michael, live in the U.S. and have an apartment in Paris. They invited us over for drinks one night, and then out to dinner to one of their favorite little restaurants.

  Juveniles.

  None of us had met Dorie or Michael before. As we walked through Paris to the restaurant, Dorie and I fell into step. And by the time we arrived we’d fallen into a deep friendship.

  Through her I’ve discovered a Paris I would never, ever have found on my own. And I found a kindred spirit.

  Someone else I met there is Eric Zenouda. Who walked me around the Marais and talked about the little-known history. He too has become a friend.

  I hope you’ve finished the book before you read on, because there are going to be some spoilers now.

  A huge thank-you to Stephen Jarislowsky, the inspiration for Stephen Horowitz. I want to make it clear that Horowitz is fictional, especially the descriptions of his family in the war. A dramatic decision on my part that has absolutely no connection to the real Stephen.

  I do need to point out that in a previous book Horowitz has children. In this book he does not. I’m afraid I made a mistake in that first mention of Horowitz, in being far more specific than I needed to be.

  Lesson learned. Children erased.

  As always, a huge thanks goes to my assistant, Lise Desrosiers. A colleague and great friend. There’s no way I could do what I do without her help, and her unfailing support. What a gift to love a person you work with.

  Thank you to my U.S. publishers at Minotaur Books and St. Martin’s Press. My wonderful new editor, Kelley Ragland, one of Hope’s protégées. Publicist Sarah Melnyk. Paul Hochman, the father of the virtual bistro and so much more. David Rotstein, who has designed this marvelous cover. Andy Martin, the publisher. And Jennifer Enderlin, Sally Richardson, and Don Weisberg of SMP.

  Thank you to Jamie Broadhurst and the entire team at Raincoast Books in Vancouver.

  Thank you so much to Linda Lyall, in Scotland.

  Thanks to Danny and Lucy who run the bookstore, Brome Lake Books, in my village and organize the annual prelaunch event.

  Thank you to my longtime agent, Teresa Chris, for all her help over the years, and to my new literary agent, David Gernert.

  Thank you to Rocky and Steve, to Oscar and Brendan, to Allida and Judy, to Hardye and Don, Hillary and Bill, Chelsea and Marc, Jon, Shelagh Rogers, Ann Cleeves. Rhys Bowen, and Will Schwalbe.

  And to my family, Rob, Audi, Doug, Mary, and the nieces and nephews who, while amazed and shocked by my success, never fail to cheer.

  This book is dedicated, as you might have noticed, to Hope Dellon. Hope edited the Gamache books, from The Cruelest Month on-ward. She became ill and went on sick leave a couple of years ago, but continued to edit my books, from home.

  As special as the word “friend” is, as powerful a concept and reality, it doesn’t come close to what Hope and I had. It was an intellectual and emotional intimacy that comes from working so closely together on something we both cared deeply about.

  Hope realized she couldn’t continue, and so she announced her retirement this year. But, over lunch in New York, she agreed to become my First Reader. To take over the role Michael always held.

  So she read All the Devils Are Here before anyone else, even Lise. And she gave me her thoughts. Always incisive. Thoughtful. Kind even. But clear. What she liked. And what she did not.

  We were all to gather at the home of her close friend Sally Richardson, the longtime publisher of St. Martin’s Press, to celebrate Hope’s retirement. But two weeks before that, Hope suffered a heart attack, and passed away. Her beloved Charlie and daughters Rebecca and Emma at her side.

  The loss is incalculable. As is her contribution to literature. The books she edited and improved, including mine. The writers she worked with and improved, including me. The young editors she mentored.

  Hope was a passionate supporter of all things literary, from libraries to bookstores, from theatre to books of all genres.

  It breaks my heart that Hope is no longer with us, but I take comfort in imagining her sitting with Michael by the fireplace in the bistro. Waiting for us.

  As I write this, I’m looking at one of the many gifts she sent. It’s a pillow and on it is written:

  Goodness Exists.