Still Life (A Three Pines Mystery)

perhaps it was simply intermission.

'A Scotch, please, Marie,' said Ruth, suddenly deflating and sinking back into the chair. 'I'm sorry. Forgive me.'

She sounded to Gamache like someone used to apologising.

'I suppose I could blame Jane's death for my poor behavior, but as you'll discover, I'm just like this. I have no talent for choosing my battles. Life seems, strangely, like a battle to me. The whole thing.'

'So I can expect more where that came from?'

'Oh, I think so. But you'll have plenty of company in your foxhole. And I promise not to whack my cane, at least around you.'

Armand Gamache leaned back in his chair, just as the Scotch and his cafe au lait and candy arrived. He took them and with all the dignity he could muster, turned to Ruth.

'Pipe, Madame?'

Ruth took the largest one and immediately bit the red candy end off.

'How did it happen?' Ruth asked.

'It looks like a hunting accident. But can you think of anyone who would want to deliberately kill your friend?'

Ruth told Gamache about the boys throwing manure. When she'd finished, Gamache asked, 'Why do you think these boys might have killed her? I agree it was a reprehensible thing to do, but she'd already announced their names, so it's not as though killing her would stop that. What's gained?'

'Revenge?' suggested Ruth. 'At that age, humiliation could be considered a capital offense. True, they were the ones who were trying to humiliate Olivier and Gabri, but the tables turned. And bullies don't much like getting some of their own back.'

Gamache nodded. It was possible. But surely, unless you're psychotic, the revenge would take a different form, something short of cold-blooded murder.

'How long did you know Mrs Neal?'

'Miss. She never married,' said Ruth. 'Though she almost did, once. What was his name?' She consulted the yellowing Rolodex in her head. 'Andy. Andy Selchuk. No. Sel ... Sel ... Selinsky. Andreas Selinsky. That was years ago. Fifty or more. Doesn't matter.'

'Please, tell me,' said Gamache.

Ruth nodded and absently stirred her Scotch with the butt end of her licorice pipe.

'Andy Selinsky was a logger. These hills were full of logging operations for a hundred years. Most of them are closed now. Andy worked on Mont Echo at the Thompson operation. The lumberjacks could be violent men. They'd work all week on the mountain, sleeping rough through storms and bear season, and the blackflies must have driven them crazy. They'd smear themselves with bear grease to keep away bugs. They were more afraid of blackflies than black bears. On weekends they'd come out of the woods, like living filth.'

Gamache was listening closely, genuinely interested, though not sure whether it was all pertinent to the investigation.

'Kaye Thompson's operation was different, though. I don't know how she did it, but somehow she kept those huge men in line. Nobody messed with Kaye,' said Ruth, in admiration.

'Andy Selinksy worked his way up to foreman. A natural leader. Jane fell in love with him, though I must admit most of us had a crush on him. Those huge arms and that rugged face ...' Gamache could feel himself receding as she spoke and drifted back in time. 'He was immense but gentle. No, gentle isn't right. Decent. He could be tough, even brutal. But not vicious. And he was clean. Smelled like Ivory soap. He'd come to town with the other lumberjacks from the Thompson mill and they'd stand out because they didn't stink of rancid bear fat. Kaye must have scrubbed them with lye.'

Gamache wondered how low the bar was set when all a man had to do to attract a woman was not smell of decomposing bears.

'At the opening dance of the County Fair Andy chose Jane.' Ruth fell quiet, remembering. 'Still don't understand it,' said Ruth. 'I mean, Jane was nice and all. We all liked her. But, frankly, she was ugly as sin. Looked like a goat.'

Ruth laughed out loud at the image she'd conjured up. It was true. Young Jane's face seemed to stretch out ahead of her, as though reaching for something, her nose elongating and her chin receding. She was also shortsighted, though her parents hated to admit they'd produced anything other than a perfect child, so they ignored her weak eyesight. This only accentuated the peering look, sticking her head out to the limits of her neck, trying to bring the world into focus. She always had a look on her face as though asking, 'Is that edible?' Young Jane was also chubby. She would remain chubby her whole life.

'For some unfathomable reason, Andreas Selinsky chose her. They danced all night. It was quite a sight.' Ruth's voice had hardened.

Gamache tried to imagine the young Jane, short, prim and plump, dancing with this huge muscled mountain man.

'They fell in love but her parents found out and put a stop to it. Caused quite a little stir. Jane was the daughter of the chief accountant for Hadley's Mills. It was inconceivable she'd marry a lumberjack.'

'What happened?' he couldn't help but ask. She looked at him as though surprised he was still there.

'Oh, Andy died.'

Gamache raised an eyebrow.

'No need to get excited, Inspector Clouseau,' said Ruth.

'An accident in the woods. A tree fell on him. Lots of witnesses. Happened all the time. Though there was