“Tell us about the man who lived in the cabin,” Chief Inspector Gamache said, matter-of-factly. “The dead man.” He folded his hands, settling in. A good dinner companion who wanted to hear your stories.
There was no escape, Olivier knew. He’d known it from the instant he’d seen the Hermit dead on the bistro floor. He’d seen this avalanche sliding toward him, gaining momentum. Olivier couldn’t run. Could never outrun what was coming.
“He was one of my first customers when Gabri and I moved to Three Pines.”
The words, kept inside for so long, crawled out. Rotting. Olivier was surprised his breath didn’t stink.
Gamache gave him a small nod of encouragement.
“We just had an antique shop then. I hadn’t turned this into a bistro, yet. We rented the space above to live in. It was awful. Crammed full of junk, and filthy. Someone had plastered over all the original features. But we worked day and night to restore it. I think we’d only been here a few weeks when he walked in. He wasn’t the man you saw on the floor. Not then. This was years ago.”
Olivier saw it all again. Gabri was upstairs in their new home, stripping the beams and taking the drywall off, exposing the magnificent original brick walls. Each discovery more exciting than the last. But none could rival the growing awareness that they’d found a home. A place they could finally settle. At first they’d been so intent on unpacking they didn’t really take in the details of the village. But slowly, over the first few weeks and months, the village revealed itself.
“I was still setting up the business and didn’t have much stuff, just odds and ends collected over the years. I’d always dreamed of opening an antique store, since I was a kid. Then the chance came.”
“It didn’t just come,” said Gamache quietly. “It was helped along.”
Olivier sighed. He should have known Gamache would find out.
“I’d quit my job in the city. I’d been quite successful, as you might have heard.”
Gamache nodded again.
Olivier smiled, remembering those heady days. Of silk suits and gym memberships, of visiting the Mercedes dealership when the only issue was the color of the car.
And of taking that one step too far.
It’d been humiliating. He’d been so depressed he was afraid of what he might do to himself, so he’d sought help. And there, in the waiting room of the therapist, was Gabri. Large, voluble, vain and full of life.