Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1)

‘Yes, that was it,’ said Gamache. ‘They waited for life to happen to them. They waited for someone to save them. Or heal them. They did nothing for themselves.’

‘Ben,’ said Peter. It was almost the first time he’d spoken all day.

‘Ben.’ Gamache gave a single nod. ‘Jane saw it, I think.’ He got up and hobbled to the wall. ‘Here. Her drawing of Ben. Did you notice he’s wearing shorts? Like a little boy. And he’s in stone. Stuck. Facing his parent’s home, facing the past. It makes sense now, of course, but I didn’t see it earlier.’

‘But why didn’t we see it? We lived with him every day,’ Clara asked.

‘Why should you? You were leading your own busy lives.

Besides, there’s something else about Jane’s drawing of Ben.’ He let them consider for a moment.

‘The shadow,’ said Peter.

‘Yes. He cast a long and dark shadow. And his darkness influenced others.’

‘Influenced me, you mean,’ said Peter.

‘Yes. And Clara. And almost everyone. He was very clever, he gave the impression of being tolerant and kind, while actually being very dark, very cunning.’

‘But why did he kill Timmer?’ Ruth asked again.

‘She was going to change her will. Not cut him out entirely, but give him just enough to live on, so that he’d have to start doing something for himself. She knew what sort of a man he’d become, the lies, the laziness, the excuses. But she’d always felt responsible. Until she met you, Myrna. You and Timmer used to talk about these things. I think your descriptions got her to thinking about Ben. She’d long known he was a problem, but she’d seen it as a kind of passive problem. The only person he was hurting was himself. And her, with his lies about her -’

‘She knew what Ben was saying?’ Clara asked.

‘Yes. Ben told us that during his interrogation. He admitted to telling lies about his mother since he was a child, to get sympathy, but didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with that. “It could have been true,” was how he put it. For instance,’ Gamache turned to Peter, ‘he told you his mother had insisted on sending him to Abbott’s, but the truth was he’d begged to go. He wanted to punish his mother by making her feel she wasn’t needed. I think those discussions with you, Myrna, were a real turning point in Timmer’s life. Up until then she’d blamed herself for how Ben had turned out. She half believed his accusations that she’d been a horrible mother. And she felt she owed him. That’s why she let him live in her home all his life.’

‘Didn’t that strike you as weird?’ Myrna asked Clara.

‘No. It’s incredible to look back now and see it. It was just where Ben lived. Besides, he said his mother refused to let him leave. Emotional blackmail, I thought. I bought everything he said.’ Clara shook her head in amazement. ‘When he moved to the caretaker’s cottage Ben told us she’d kicked him out because he’d finally stood up to her.’

‘And you believed that?’ Ruth asked quietly. ‘Who bought enough of your art so you could buy your home? Who gave you furniture? Who had you over for dinners those first years to introduce you around and to give you good meals when she knew you were barely eating? Who sent you home with parcels of leftovers? Who listened politely every time you spoke, and asked interested questions? I could go on all night. Did none of this make an impression? Are you that blind?’

There it was again, thought Clara. The blind.

This was far worse than any injuries Ben had given her. Ruth was staring at them, her face hard. How could they have been so gullible? How could Ben’s words have been stronger than Timmer’s actions? Ruth was right. Timmer had been nothing but tolerant, kind and generous.

Clara realised with a chill that Ben had begun to assassinate his mother long ago.

‘You’re right. I’m so sorry. Even the snakes. I’d believed the snakes.’

‘Snakes?’ said Peter. ‘What snakes?’

Clara shook her head. Ben had lied to her, and used Peter’s name to add legitimacy to it. Why had he told her there were snakes in his mother’s basement? Why had he made up that story about himself and Peter as boys? Because it made him even more of a victim, a hero, she realised. And she’d been more than willing to believe it. Poor Ben, they’d called him. And poor Ben he’d wanted to be, though not literally as it turned out.

Timmer’s basement had proven, once the electricity had been restored, to be clean, absolutely fine. No snakes. No snake nests. No indication anything had ever slithered in or out of there, except Ben. The ‘snakes’ dangling from the ceiling had been wires, and she’d kicked and tossed pieces of garden hose. The power of the imagination never ceased to amaze Clara.