The Hangman

Chapter Two

 

 

 

 

Dr. Harris and Inspector Beauvoir watched the dead man being lowered to the ground. At the same time, Chief Inspector Gamache walked over to the living man. Tom Scott.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Sick and cold. Can I go now?”

 

“In a minute.”

 

“I’ve been here for hours.” Tom Scott looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten. I’ve missed breakfast. My wife will kill me.”

 

“Perhaps you should call her.”

 

Scott paused. “That’s okay.”

 

“I insist. I wouldn’t want her to worry.”

 

“I already called. She’s fine.”

 

Seeing Gamache’s face, he said in a small voice, “This is my vacation. I don’t get many. I just want to get back to the Inn.”

 

“Tell me again what happened.”

 

Tom Scott took a deep breath. “I woke up early, and it was a nice day, so I decided to go for a jog. The woman at the front desk said there were paths cut through the woods where I could run. So I did. After about five minutes, I found . . .” He jerked his head toward the now-empty tree.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I had my cell phone with me, so I called the police. Then I called my wife.”

 

Gamache studied Tom Scott. He was lying. That much was certain. But why? What was this nervous little man hiding?

 

“And then what did you do?”

 

“I waited for the cops. What else would I do? Keep on jogging?”

 

“You might have tried to help the man.”

 

“Are you crazy?” Scott yelled. “Did you see what he looked like? You should thank me for even stopping and calling. I could have just run away. But I didn’t.”

 

Scott was so angry he trembled.

 

The chief inspector waited. And waited. Quietly staring at Tom Scott.

 

“What?” Scott’s voice was high, like a girl’s. “What is it?”

 

“You might have helped the man,” Gamache said again.

 

“He was dead!”

 

“He certainly was by the time we arrived.”

 

“What are you saying?” Scott’s face went from red to white. “That I had something to do with this?”

 

Armand Gamache said nothing. He knew that screaming and yelling upset people. But silence was even more disturbing.

 

“Tell me the truth, Mr. Scott,” the chief inspector’s voice was calm but commanding. Here was a man used to leading and used to being followed.