Louise Penny - Still Life (Three Pines Mysteries)

‘I’ve been thinking.’ She paused, not sure what to say, or how to say it.

‘I know. I could see it in your face. When did you figure it out?’

So, she thought, he’s not going to deny it. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.

‘At the party, but I couldn’t get it all. I needed time to think, to work it out.’

‘Was that why you said “she”, when describing the forger?’

‘Yes. I wanted to buy some time, maybe even throw the police off.’

‘It threw me off. I was hoping you meant it. But then at the B. & B. I could see your mind working. I know you too well. What’re we going to do?’

‘I needed to see if you’d really done it. I felt I owed you this, because I love you.’ Clara felt numb, as though she was having an out of body experience.

‘And I love you,’ he said in a voice that struck her as suddenly mincing. Was it always like this? ‘And I need you. You don’t have to tell the police, there’s no evidence. Even the tests tomorrow won’t show anything. I was careful. Once I put my mind to something I’m very good, but you know that.’

She did. And she suspected he was right. The police would have a hard time convicting him.

‘Why?’ she asked, ‘why did you kill Jane? And why did you kill your mother?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Ben smiled, and advanced.

Gamache had woken Beauvoir and now the two were banging on the Morrows’ door.

‘Did you forget your key?’ Peter was saying as he unlocked it. He stared, uncomprehending, at Gamache and Beauvoir. ‘Where’s Clara?’

‘That’s what we wanted to ask you. We need to speak with her, now.’

‘I left her at Jane’s, but that was’, Peter consulted his watch, ‘an hour ago.’

‘That’s a long time to search for a purse,’ said Beauvoir.

‘She didn’t have a purse, it was just a ruse to leave the B. & B. and go into Jane’s home,’ explained Peter. ‘I knew it, but I figured she wanted time alone, to think.’

‘But she’s not back yet?’ Gamache asked. ‘Weren’t you worried?’

‘I’m always worried about Clara. The instant she leaves the house I’m worried.’

Gamache turned and hurried through the woods to Jane’s home.

Clara awoke with a throbbing head. At least, she assumed she was awake. Everything was black. Blinding black. Her face was on a floor and she was breathing in dirt. It was sticking to her skin, wet from the rain. Her clothes under her raincoat clung to her body where the rain had driven in. She felt cold and sick. She couldn’t stop shivering. Where was she? And where was Ben? She realised her arms were tied behind her. She’d been at Ben’s home, so this must be Ben’s basement. She had a memory of being carried, drifting in and out of consciousness. And of Peter. Of hearing Peter. No. Of smelling Peter. Peter had been close by. Peter had been carrying her.

‘I see you’re awake,’ Ben stood above her holding a flashlight.

‘Peter?’ Clara called in a reedy voice. Ben seemed to find this funny.

‘Good. That’s what I was hoping, but bad news, Clara. Peter isn’t here. In fact, this is pretty much a night of bad news for you. Guess where we are.’

When Clara didn’t speak Ben slowly moved the flashlight around so it played on the walls, the ceiling, the floors. It didn’t have to go far before Clara knew. She probably knew earlier but her brain wouldn’t accept it.

‘Can you hear them, Clara?’ Ben was silent again, and sure enough Clara heard it. A slithering. A sliding. And she could smell them. A musky, swampy smell.

Snakes.

They were in Timmer’s home. Timmer’s basement.

‘But, the good news is, you won’t have to worry about them for long.’ Ben brought the flashlight up so she could see his face. She could also see he was wearing one of Peter’s coats. ‘You came here, and fell down the stairs,’ he said, in a reasonable voice, as though expecting her to agree with him. ‘Gamache may suspect, but no one else will. Peter would never suspect me, I’ll be the one comforting him in his loss. And everyone else knows I’m a kind man. And I really am. This doesn’t count.’

He turned away from her and walked toward the wooden stairs, the flashlight throwing fantastic shadows across the dirt floor. ‘The electricity’s been turned off and you stumbled and fell. I’m just fixing the steps now. Rickety old things. Asked Mother for years to repair them, but she was too mean to part with the money. Now you’re paying the tragic price. Happily, if Gamache doesn’t buy that I’ve sprinkled enough clues so that Peter’ll be charged. I expect a whole lot of fibers from his jacket are on you now. You probably breathed some in too. They’ll find those in the autopsy. You’ll help to convict your own husband.’

Clara rocked herself to a sitting position. She could see Ben working on the stairs. She knew she had a matter of minutes, maybe moments. She strained against the cords binding her wrists. Fortunately, Ben hadn’t tied them tightly. He probably didn’t want to cause bruising, but it meant she was able to work her wrists loose though not free.

‘What you doing over there?’ Ben turned the light on Clara, who leaned back to mask her movements. Her back touched the wall and something brushed into her hair and neck. Then was gone. Oh God. Dear Mother of God. The instant the light turned back to the steps Clara worked frantically, more desperate to get away from the snakes than from Ben. She could hear them slithering, moving along the beams and ventilation shafts. Finally her hands burst free and she scrambled off into the dark.

‘Clara? Clara!’ The light flashed back and forth wildly searching. ‘I don’t have time for this.’

Ben left the stairs and started frantically searching. Clara backed further and further into the basement, toward the rank smell. Something brushed her cheek then fell on to her foot. She bit through her lip, trying not to scream, the metallic taste of blood helping her focus. She kicked hard and heard a soft thump as it hit a nearby wall.

Gamache, Beauvoir and Peter ran through Jane’s home, but Gamache knew she wouldn’t be there. If something bad was going to happen to Clara, it wouldn’t be in this home.

‘She’s at Hadley’s place,’ said Gamache, making for the door. Once out Beauvoir quickly sped by him, as did Peter. Their footsteps sounded like wild horses as they raced through the storm toward the home with its welcoming lights.

Clara wasn’t sure whether the roaring she heard was Kyla, furious Kyla, or her own terrified breath. Or blood pounding in her ears. The whole home above her seemed to shudder and moan. She held her breath but her body screamed for oxygen and after a moment she was forced to breathe, hungrily and noisily.

‘I heard that,’ Ben swung around, but he moved so fast he lost his grip on the flashlight and the thing flew out of his hand, landing with two thumps. The first sent the light bouncing, hitting Clara full in the face. The second thump plunged the basement into total darkness.

‘Shit,’ hissed Ben.

Oh God, Oh God, thought Clara. Complete and utter darkness descended. She was frozen, petrified. She heard a movement to her right. This was just enough to get her going. She crawled quietly, slowly left, feeling along the base of the rough stone wall, looking for a rock, a pipe, a brick, anything. Except ...

Her hand closed around it and it in turn curled up and closed around her. With a spasm she hurled it into the darkness and heard it bounce across the room.

‘Here I come,’ Ben whispered. As he spoke Clara realised she’d crawled right up to him in the darkness. He was a step away, but blind as well. She squatted frozen in place, waiting for his hands to grip her. Instead she heard him moving off across the room. Toward the tossed snake.