Chapter Twelve
Chief Inspector Gamache looked around the group at the Inn and Spa. They were all in the living room. A fire crackled in the grate, tended by Mike, the handyman. His wife, Angela, the receptionist, was there. Dominique, the owner, stood by the grand piano. She looked nervous. She’d put out tea and a plate of cookies. But she suspected that this was not a social event.
Sue Gravel, from the Bed and Breakfast, sat in the best chair. The large one by the fire. She looked sour and hugged herself, but Gamache knew the chill she felt came from within.
“Nice place,” said young Paul Goulet. He had returned from his bicycle ride just in time to change and join them.
They all looked at Chief Inspector Gamache, who stood by the fireplace. Waiting.
Finally the last member of the group arrived.
Tom Scott looked surprised to see so many people. He paused, then sat in a chair by the door. Outside of the circle made by the other people.
“Why are we here?” Dominique asked.
She was polite but puzzled.
“We’re here to catch a killer,” said Gamache. He looked at each of them. Some were afraid. Some were annoyed. Some were amused.
And one was a murderer.
“Last night, one of your guests was killed,” he said to Dominique. “He’d arrived the day before and signed himself in as Arthur Ellis. He spent the day in Three Pines, asking questions. He seemed most interested in young men of the area. But Arthur Ellis had a secret. And like most people with secrets, he told a lot of lies.”
Gamache looked beyond the circle of chairs. To the one on the outside. To Tom Scott.
“This morning, while supposedly jogging, you found his body hanging from a tree. You called for help. But then you did something very curious. Actually, you didn’t do something. You didn’t try to get him down.”
“He was obviously dead,” snapped Tom.
“And yet most people would try,” said the chief. “It would be a natural reaction. Unless you already knew he was dead. And had been for some time.”
Gamache turned back to the room.
“Like most murders, this one was about secrets and lies. But hidden below all those lies was an emotion. Sorrow. A sorrow so great it turned into a monster. And that monster finally consumed the man.”
The chief paused. All eyes were on him. The only sound was the mumbling of the fire.
“And that is when Arthur Ellis was born. Or, rather, reborn.”
The people in the room looked at each other.
“What do you mean?” asked Angela.
“Arthur Ellis was not his real name. His real name was James Hill.”
Gamache watched them. Paul shifted in his seat. Angela blushed, of course. Mike poked the fire. Sue? She dropped her eyes and clutched herself even tighter.
“James Hill had lost his wife and child in an accident twenty years ago, when they were hit by a truck. No one was arrested. There was no trial or even an apology. No one was held responsible. And yet his wife and child were dead.”
Now they looked at each other, eyes darting from face to face.
“An injustice had been done,” said Gamache. “And James Hill, full of rage, came up with a plan. He would track down each and every person in that truck, and he would kill them.”
Gamache picked up the file from the table in front of him.
“Over the years, he tracked down two of them. They were found hanged.”
“Psycho,” said Tom Scott.
“But why did he change his name to Arthur Ellis?” Dominique asked.
“Arthur Ellis was the alias of Canada’s official hangman,” said the chief inspector. “James Hill used the same alias when he was on the trail of his next victim.”
“Oh, God,” said Angela. Mike sat and put his arms around her.
“There is a murderer in this room. A person who has been involved in at least three deaths. The young Hill family, twenty years ago, and now the murder of the father. James Hill.”
“But you say he came here to kill someone,” said Paul. “Who?”
“That’s the question,” agreed Gamache. “Who had James Hill found in Three Pines? Which of the young people from the pickup? One man and one woman were left. Which of them was it?”
“Mr. Ellis was asking about young men,” said Angela. “Was that why? But that doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t be young anymore.”
“Ellis lied,” said Gamache. “There has been a lot of lying in this case.”
His gaze came to rest on Tom Scott.
“He lied about his name,” the chief continued. “He lied about why he was here. Could he also have been lying about looking for a man? Maybe it was a woman. Maybe he wanted to put his victim at ease. Throw her off.”
Gamache turned to Sue Gravel.
“Maybe he was looking for a woman. Or” — now he shifted his gaze to Paul Goulet — “maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe one of the people in the truck twenty years ago had had a child of his own. And maybe James Hill wanted to hurt him the way he’d been hurt. By killing, not the man himself, but his child.”
Paul Goulet stood up. Across the room, Inspector Beauvoir tensed. Ready to tackle Goulet if he threatened the chief. But Goulet simply stared, his eyes narrow and cold.
“So what are you saying, Chief Inspector?” Dominique asked. “That he could have been looking for a man or a woman or a young person or an older person? Doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“No,” admitted Gamache. “But this does.”
From the file he took a slim piece of paper and read.
If you are reading this, my body has been found. I am sorry. I hope the discovery did not upset anyone. I tried to go as far away as possible so that no children would find me.
My work is finally done. I am tired, but I am at peace. Finally.
I know you cannot forgive me, but perhaps you can understand.
“I wondered why it wasn’t addressed to anyone. Some suicide letters aren’t signed. But most are at least addressed to someone. This man had no one to write to. No family. But he did want people to know that it was over. And that’s the key.”
Gamache put the note on the coffee table, next to the cookies.
“My work is finally done,” he quoted. “What did he mean by that?”
“That he’d killed the last person from that truck, obviously,” said Paul.
“Exactly.” Gamache turned to him.
There was silence in the room. Every eye was on the chief inspector.
“I am arresting you for the murder of James Hill,” he said. He stepped forward, as did Inspector Beauvoir. Just in time to catch Angela and Mike as they tried to flee.