“Could be. But you paid cash. Was business all that good?”
Olivier shot a look around but no one could hear them. Still he lowered his voice.
“The bistro and B and B are doing very well, for now anyway, but it’s the antiques end that’s been the surprise.”
“How so?”
“Lots of interest in Quebec pine, and lots of great finds.”
Gamache nodded. “We spoke to the Poiriers this afternoon.”
Olivier’s face hardened. “Look, what they say just isn’t true. I didn’t screw their mother. She wanted to sell. Was desperate to sell.”
“I know. We spoke to her too. And the Mundins. The furniture must have been in very bad shape.”
Olivier relaxed a little.
“It was. Years sitting in damp, freezing barns and the attic. Had to chase the mice out. Some were warped almost beyond repair. Enough to make you weep.”
“Madame Poirier says you came by her home later with a new bed. That was kind.”
Olivier dropped his eyes. “Yeah, well, I wanted to thank her.”
Conscience, thought Gamache. This man had a huge and terrible conscience riding herd on a huge and terrible greed.
“You said the bistro and B and B were doing well, for now. What did you mean?”
Olivier looked out the window for a moment, then back at Gamache.
“Hi ho, dinner everyone,” sang Ruth.
“What should we do?” Clara whispered to Myrna. “Can we run for it?”
“Too late. Either Ruth or the duck would get us for sure. The only thing to do is hunker down and pray for daylight. If the worst happens, play dead.”
Gamache and Olivier rose, the last in for dinner.
“I suppose you know what they’re doing up at the old Hadley house?” When Gamache didn’t answer Olivier continued. “They’ve almost completely gutted the place and are turning it into an inn and spa. Ten massage rooms, meditation and yoga classes. They’ll do a day spa and corporate retreats. People’ll be crawling all over the place, and us. It’ll ruin Three Pines.”
“Three Pines?”
“All right,” snapped Olivier. “The bistro and the B and B.”
They joined the others in the kitchen and sat at Ruth’s white plastic garden table.
“Incoming,” warned Gabri as Ruth put a bowl in front of each of them.
Gamache looked at the contents of his bowl. He could make out canned peaches, bacon, cheese and Gummi Bears.
“They’re all the things I love,” said Ruth, smiling. Rosa was sitting next to her on a nest of towels, her beak thrust under the sleeve of her dress.
“Scotch?” Ruth asked.
“Please.” Six glasses were thrust forward and Ruth poured each a Scotch, into their dinners.
About three centuries and many lifetimes later they left, staggering into the quiet, cool night.
“Toodle-oo,” waved Ruth. But Gamache was heartened to hear, just as the door closed: “Fuckers.”
FOURTEEN
They arrived back at the B and B to find Beauvoir waiting up for them. Sort of. He was fast asleep in his chair. Beside him was a plate with crumbs and a glass of chocolate milk. The fireplace glowed with dying embers.
“Should we wake him?” asked Olivier. “He looks so peaceful.”
Beauvoir’s face was turned to the side and there was a slight glisten of drool. His breathing was heavy and regular. On his chest lay the small stuffed lion Gabri had won for Olivier at the fair, his hand resting on it.
“Like a little baby cop,” said Gabri.
“That reminds me. Ruth asked me to give him this.” Olivier handed Gamache a slip of paper. The Chief took it and when he declined their offer of help watched as the two men trudged wearily up the stairs. It was nine o’clock.
“Jean Guy,” Gamache whispered. “Wake up.”
He knelt and touched the younger man’s shoulder. Beauvoir started awake with a snort, the lion slipping off his chest onto the floor.
“What is it?”
“Time for bed.”
He watched Beauvoir sit up. “How was it?”
“No one died.”
“That’s a bit of an achievement in Three Pines.”
“Olivier said Ruth wanted you to have this.” Gamache handed him the slip of paper. Beauvoir rubbed his eyes, unfolded the paper and read it. Then, shaking his head, he handed it to the Chief.
Maybe there’s something in all of this
I missed.