Louise Penny - Brutal Telling

But here everything really was transparent. She’d felt light as soon as they’d arrived in Canada. Where people minded their own business.

Or so she thought. Her hand hovered over the marble counter as some glint in the sun caught her eye. A car rolling up the drive.

Armand Gamache stared at the glass and metal cube in front of him. He’d read reports of the interviews with the Parras, including descriptions of their home, but still it took him aback.

The house gleamed in the sun. Not blinding, but it seemed to glow as though it lived in a world slightly different from theirs. A world of light.

“It’s beautiful,” said Gamache, almost under his breath.

“You should see inside.”

“I think I should,” Gamache nodded and the two men strolled across the yard.

Hanna Parra let them in and took their coats. “Chief Inspector, this is a pleasure.”

Her voice was slightly accented but her French was perfect. Someone who’d not just learned the language but loved it. And it showed with every syllable. Gamache knew it was impossible to split language from culture. That without one the other withered. To love the language was to respect the culture.

That was why he’d learned English so well.

“We’d like to speak to your husband and son as well, if possible.”

He spoke gently but somehow the very civility of the man lent his words weight.

“Havoc’s out in the woods, but Roar’s here.”

“Where in the woods, madame?” Beauvoir asked.

Hanna seemed slightly flustered. “Out back. Cutting deadwood for the winter.”

“Can you get him in, please?” said Beauvoir. His attempts at politeness simply made him seem sinister.

“We don’t know where he is.”

The voice came from behind them and both men turned to see Roar standing in the doorway to the mudroom. He was four-square, stocky and powerful. His hands were on his hips and his elbows out, like a threatened animal trying to make itself appear larger.

“Then perhaps we can speak to you,” said Gamache.

Roar didn’t budge.

“Please, come into the kitchen,” said Hanna. “It’s warmer there.”

She led them deeper into the house and shot Roar a warning look as she passed.

The kitchen was filled with natural warmth from the sun that spilled in.

“ Mais, c’est formidable ,” Gamache said. Out of the floor-to-ceiling windows he could see field then forest and in the distance St. Thomas’s steeple, in Three Pines. It felt as though they were living in nature, that the house was no intrusion at all. It was unexpected, certainly unusual. But it wasn’t foreign. Just the opposite. This home belonged here. It was perfect.

“ Félicitations .” He turned to the Parras. “This is a magnificent achievement. It must’ve been something you’d dreamed of for a long time.”

Roar dropped his arms and indicated a seat at the glass table. Gamache accepted.

“We talked about it for a while. It wasn’t my first choice. I wanted something more traditional.”

Gamache looked at Hanna, who’d taken the chair at the head of the table. “Must’ve taken some convincing,” he smiled.

“He did,” she said, returning his smile. Hers was polite, without warmth or humor. “Took years. There’d been a cabin on the property and we lived there until Havoc was about six, but he was growing and I wanted a place that felt like ours.”

“ Je comprends , but why this?”

“You don’t like it?” She didn’t sound defensive, only interested.

“Just the reverse. I think it really is magnificent. It feels as though it belongs here. But you must admit, it’s unusual. No one else has a place quite like it.”

“We wanted something completely different from where we grew up. We wanted a change.”

“We?” asked Gamache.

“I came around,” said Roar, his voice hard, his eyes wary. “What’s all this about?”

Gamache nodded and sat forward, splaying his large hands on the cool surface of the table. “Why did your son work for Olivier?”

“He needs the money,” said Hanna. Gamache nodded.

“I understand. But wouldn’t he make more money working in the woods? Or working construction? Surely a waiter is paid very little, even with the tips.”

“Why’re you asking us?” Hanna asked.

“Well, I would ask him, if he were here.”

Roar and Hanna exchanged glances.

“Havoc takes after his mother,” said Roar finally. “He looks like me, but has his mother’s temperament. He likes people. He enjoys working in the woods but prefers working with people. The bistro suits him perfectly. He’s happy there.”

Gamache nodded slowly.

“Havoc worked late at the bistro every night,” said Beauvoir. “What time did he get home?”

“About one, rarely later.”

“But sometimes later?” Beauvoir asked.

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Roar. “I didn’t wait up.”

“I imagine you did.” Beauvoir turned to Hanna.

“I did,” she admitted. “But I can’t remember him ever coming home after one thirty. If customers were late, especially if there was a party, he’d have to clean up, so he’d be a little later than usual, but never much.”

“Be careful, madame,” said Gamache quietly.

“Careful?”

“We need the truth.”

“You’re getting the truth, Chief Inspector,” said Roar.

“I hope so. Who was the dead man?”

“Why do you people keep asking us that?” asked Hanna. “We didn’t know him.”

“His name was Jakob,” said Beauvoir. “He was Czech.”

“I see,” said Roar, his face twisting in anger. “And all Czech people know each other? Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”

Armand Gamache leaned toward him. “It’s not insulting. It’s human nature. If I lived in Prague I’d gravitate to the Québécois there, especially at first. He came here more than a decade ago and built a cabin in the woods. He filled it with treasures. Do you know where they might have come from?”

“How would we know?”

“We think he might have stolen them from people back in Czechoslovakia.”

“And because they came from Czechoslovakia we’d know about it?”

“If he’d stolen the things do you really think the first thing he’d do is come to a potluck dinner with the Czech Association?” Hanna demanded. “We don’t know this Jakob.”

“What did you do before you came here?” Gamache asked them.

“We were both students. We met at Charles University in Prague,” said Hanna. “I was studying political science and Roar was studying engineering.”

“You’re a councilor for the area,” said Gamache to Hanna, then turned to Roar. “But you don’t seem to have pursued your interests here. Why not?”

Parra paused, then looked down at his large, rough hands, picking at a callus. “I was fed up with people. Wanted nothing to do with them. Why do you think there’s a huge Czech community out here, away from cities? It’s because we’re sickened by what people can do. People goaded by others, emboldened. Infected by cynicism and fear and suspicion. By jealousy and greed. They turn on each other. I want nothing to do with them. Let me work quietly in a garden, in the woods. People are horrible creatures. You must know that, Chief Inspector. You’ve seen what they can do to each other.”

“I have,” Gamache admitted. He stopped talking for a moment, and in that moment lived all the terrible things the head of homicide might see. “I know what people are capable of.” He smiled then, and spoke quietly. “The bad, but also the good. I’ve seen sacrifice, and I’ve seen forgiveness where none seemed possible. Goodness exists, Monsieur Parra. Believe me.”