Still Life (A Three Pines Mystery)

'But which of them did it? Was it Matthew Croft? Inspector Beauvoir, what do you think?' Beauvoir with all his might wanted Matthew Croft to be the guilty one. Yet, damn it, it didn't fit.

'No. He was far too relaxed in the public meeting. His panic didn't kick in until later. No. If it'd been him he'd have been more evasive earlier. He has very little skill at hiding how he's feeling.'

Gamache agreed. 'Scratch Mr Croft. How about Suzanne Croft?'

'Well, she could have done it. She clearly knew about the bow and arrow during the public meeting, and she destroyed the arrow and would have chucked the bow in the furnace if she'd had time. But, again, it doesn't fit.'

'If she killed Jane Neal she'd have destroyed the arrow and the bow long before now,' said Nichol, leaning into the group. 'She'd have gone right home and burned the whole lot. Why wait until they know the police are about to arrive?'

'You're right,' said Gamache, surprised and pleased. 'Go on.'

'OK. Suppose it's Philippe. He's fourteen, right? This is an old bow, not as powerful as the newer ones. Doesn't take as much strength. So he takes the old wooden bow and the old wooden arrows and he heads off to hunt. But he shoots Miss Neal by mistake. He picks up his arrow and runs back home. But Maman figures it out--'

'How?' Gamache asked.

'How?' This stopped Nichol. She had to think. 'He might have had blood on his clothing, or his hands. She'd have gotten it out of him eventually, maybe just before the public meeting. She had to go to hear what the police had, but she'd have kept Philippe back at home. That explains her increasing agitation in the meeting.'

'Any holes in this theory?' Beauvoir asked the gathering, trying not to sound hopeful. While he hoped Nichol would prove not a total liability, this was a disastrously good showing. He tried not to look at her, but couldn't help it. Sure enough she was staring straight at him with a tiny smile. She leaned back in her chair, slowly, luxuriously.

'Well done, Nichol.' Gamache rose and nodded to her.

Wait, just wait, she thought, till Dad hears about this.

'So the Croft family stays put for today, until we get the results of the lab tests,' said Gamache.

The meeting broke up, each one looking forward to wrapping up the investigation the next day. Still, Armand Gamache knew better than to count on one theory. He wanted to keep the investigation active. Just to be on the safe side.

It was almost five and time to head to the Bistro. But there was something he wanted to do first.

SEVEN

Gamache walked through the bistro, nodding to Gabri who was setting tables. Each business connected to the next in the row of shops and at the back of the bistro he found the door into the next store. Myrna's Livres, Neufs et Usages.

And there he found himself, holding a worn copy of Being. He'd read Being when it first came out a few years before. The title always reminded him of the day his daughter Annie had come home from first grade with her English homework which was to name three types of beans. She'd written, 'green beans, yellow beans and human beans'.

He turned the book over and looked at the back, with its 'blurb' and brief bio of the author, the famous McGill University doctor and geneticist, Dr Vincent Gilbert. Dr Gilbert glared back, strangely stern for a man who wrote about compassion. This particular book was about his work with Brother Albert Mailloux at 'La Porte', mostly with men and women with Down's syndrome. It was really a meditation on what he'd learned watching these people. What he'd learned about them and the nature of humanity and what he'd learned about himself. It was a remarkable study of arrogance and humility and, above all, forgiveness.

The walls of the shop were lined with bookcases, all ordered and labeled and filled with books, some new, some already read, some French, most English. Myrna had managed to make it feel more like the library in a cultured and comfortable country home than a store. She'd set up a couple of rocking chairs beside an open fire, with a couch facing it. Gamache sank into one of the rockers and reminded himself of the beauty of Being.

'Now there's a good book,' said Myrna, dropping into the chair opposite. She'd brought a pile of used books and some price stickers. 'We haven't actually met. I'm Myrna Landers. I saw you at the public meeting.'

Gamache got up and shook her hand, smiling. 'I saw you too.'

Myrna laughed. 'I'm hard to miss. The only black in Three Pines and not exactly a slip of a woman.'

'You and I are well matched.' Gamache smiled, rubbing his stomach.

She picked a book out of her pile. 'Have you read this?'

She held a worn copy of Brother Albert's book, Loss. Gamache shook his head and figured it probably wasn't the cheeriest of reads. She turned it over in her huge hands and seemed to caress it.