Kingdom of the Blind

CHAPTER 32

“Oh look,” said Benedict. “I think my truck’s back.”

They’d crested the hill leading down into Three Pines. There were lights at the windows of the homes, and in the bistro they could see figures moving about.

The headlights of Gamache’s car caught the swirl of snow as it fell, and where the beams hit the surrounding forest, the trees were alternately dark and bright as snow rested on the branches.

Armand knew there’d be fires lit in each of the homes, including his own. But before he could join Reine-Marie in front of it, there was something that had to be done.

Benedict pulled up behind his truck, and, getting out, he went to inspect the tires.

“They’re very good,” he said. “The best. Are you sure I can’t pay for them?”

“I’m sure,” said Armand.

Benedict tossed the tail of his tuque around his neck and over his shoulder and looked about him. “I’m going to miss it here. What is it?”

Armand was regarding him in a way that made Benedict uncomfortable.

Isabelle stared at her laptop.

Her husband had returned, and the kids had come in from playing, and all around was pandemonium.

But she was sitting at the kitchen table in her own little bubble. Where all was deadly quiet. There were just the two of them. Isabelle Lacoste and Katie Burke.

“So that’s who you are,” whispered Lacoste. And reached for the phone. While the kids chased each other and the dog barked and her husband called to them to wash up for dinner.

Jean-Guy Beauvoir had his feet crossed on the desk. A file on his lap. The information Madame Ogilvy had had her assistant give him on the Kinderoths, and Bernard Shaeffer, and Anthony Baumgartner.

He slowly lowered the file and stared at his own reflection in the window. Then, dropping his legs off the desk with a thud, he muttered, “Gotcha,” as he reached for the phone.

Benedict picked up the keys to his truck from Madame Gamache and thanked her profusely and sincerely for their hospitality.

“I don’t know what I’d have done,” he said. “Without you.”

“You’re welcome back anytime, right, Armand?”

“Let me walk you to your truck,” said Gamache.

As the door closed, he could hear the phone ringing.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you, sir.”

“You promised me a driving lesson.” Gamache looked around. There was a good four inches of snow on the road. Billy Williams would be by soon to clear it, but right now it was accumulating. “You can thank me by giving me that lesson.”

“Now?”

“Is there a better time?”

“Well, it’s dark, and you must be tired.”

“It’s six thirty. I’m not quite that old.”

“I … I didn’t mean that,” stammered Benedict.

“Get in,” said Gamache, walking around to the passenger side and climbing up. “Let’s drive a few kilometers out of the village. I have a spot in mind.”

He was quiet as they drove, and then Gamache asked, “Who’s Katie Burke?”

“Who?”

Gamache was silent, staring at the snow swirling in the headlights.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

The truck was speeding up, exceeding the limit now.

“My ex.”

They were gathering speed.

“Your ex? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago did you break up?”

“Two months.”

“About the time Bertha Baumgartner died?”

The engine growled as Benedict pressed harder on the gas.

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“Did she know Madame Baumgartner?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you sure? Be more careful with your answers.”

“Maybe you should be more careful with your questions. Leave Katie out of this. You wanted a lesson? Here goes.”

He put his foot to the floor just as they crested a hill.

“Benedict—” Gamache began, but got no further.

Benedict hit the brakes, and the truck spun, veering out of control.

Gamache was thrown against the door, hitting his head on the window. He heard Benedict grunt as he was tossed sideways.

“Let go of the brake,” Gamache shouted.

But Benedict’s foot was jammed onto the pedal as he yanked the steering wheel first one way, then the other. Fighting for control. The snowbank approached, then the truck caught and fishtailed in the other direction. Toward the other bank. And the drop-off.

Gamache released his seat belt and forced himself forward. Grabbing the wheel, he tried to steer into the spin, but Benedict’s grip was too tight, and it was now almost impossible to tell which way was forward. And which would send them into the trees.

Benedict was bucking against Gamache’s body, which was pinning him to the seat. Partly to try to force his foot from the brake and partly to help protect the young man against what now seemed the inevitable crash.

Gamache grabbed Benedict’s pant leg, pulling it as hard as he could. Trying to yank his foot off the brake.

It finally lifted, and Gamache could feel the truck catch and slow, but he knew it was too late. In the headlights he saw the snowbank approaching and, beyond it, the trees.

He closed his eyes and braced himself.

The truck shuddered and then slowed.

Gamache opened his eyes and turned to look out the windshield. And saw not the woods but the road.

He shoved the gear into neutral, and the truck glided to a stop, pointing straight ahead.

Both men stared straight ahead, gathering themselves.

Gamache took a deep breath and exhaled while, beside him, Benedict was hyperventilating. His breaths coming out in short puffs.

“Katie Burke,” said Gamache. “Tell—”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Are you really prepared to kill us both? To protect her?”

“Leave her alone,” said Benedict.

“Was it her idea or yours?”

“Enough.”

“Or what? You’ll run us off a cliff? More death? Does it get easier, Benedict, the more you do? I’m giving you a chance to tell me yourself.”

Benedict was staring at him, wild-eyed, desperate.

“No?” said Gamache. “Then I’ll tell you. Katie knew Madame Baumgartner. She was her first contact in the nursing home. That’s how you got onto the will, isn’t it?”

Benedict continued to glare at Gamache, but now with more surprise than hostility.

“Murder, Benedict. Is that what you wanted? Was it planned?”

But Benedict seemed too stunned to answer.

“Tell me. The truth now.”

As soon as they walked back into the house, Reine-Marie said, “Both Jean-Guy and Isabelle have been calling. They’d like a callback.”

It sounded to Armand that they would more than just “like” a call.

“You’re back,” said Reine-Marie to Benedict. “Everything okay? You look pale.”

“He’s just going to rest for a bit,” said Armand, making for the study. “We’ve been testing the tires. We gave each other little lessons on driving in dangerous conditions.”

Benedict collapsed into an armchair facing the fire.

“What did you do to him, Armand?” Reine-Marie whispered at the door to the study.

“Taught him a lesson,” said her husband. “If he tries to leave, let me know. But I don’t think he will.”

Armand held up the keys to the truck.

Then, picking up the phone to return the calls, he noticed there was a message. A soft, now-familiar voice told him that she’d found the girl. And Armand could come get her anytime. She’d be safe.

Now it was Armand’s turn to sit, almost collapse, into a chair. He closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled, whispering, “Merci.”

Then he called Jean-Guy, who was in his car. “On my way down, patron. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Great, but why?”

He explained. Then Gamache called Isabelle.

When he left the study, he found Benedict still in the armchair, a mug of hot chocolate, untouched, on the table beside him.

He was staring blankly into the cheerful fire. Reine-Marie had just put a fresh log on, and Henri was lying in front of it, while Gracie slept on the sofa. It was, to all appearances, a tranquil domestic scene.

But, as he’d just heard from Isabelle and Jean-Guy, there was delusion at work. And a certain madness.

After he’d hung up, he called Myrna and asked her to come over.

She had to hear this.

“Would you like me to leave, Armand?” Reine-Marie asked. She recognized his manner and knew this was no longer a social occasion.

“Non, stay if you’d like.”

Just then Myrna arrived, shaking snow from her tuque and kicking off her boots. “This’d better be good. I left a bowl of soup and a glass of wine to come here.”

But, taking a seat by the fire, Myrna could see that whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. It was bad.

“What is it?” she asked, looking at Benedict, who seemed almost comatose. “What’s happened?”

“In a moment,” said Armand as he went to the window. He’d seen headlights flash by.

A minute later Jean-Guy walked in.

“This,” said Beauvoir as he stepped aside, “is Katie Burke.”

“Katie?” said Benedict, getting up.