Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

"Do you really not need me to go with you?" Peter followed Clara to the path in front of the house, and their car was parked outside the gate. "Won't be long. I'm doing one thing in Montreal, soon." "What's the matter? Can I help?" He was desperate to prove to Clara that he had changed.But despite her politeness to him, everything was obvious.His wife, with so much faith in life, eventually lost all faith in him. "No, you stay at home." "Call when you get there," he called from the back of the car, but wasn't sure she could hear.

"Where is she going?" Peter turned to see Sergeant Beauvoir standing next to him. "Montreal." Beauvoir raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and left, heading for the bistro. Peter saw Beauvoir sitting down under a yellow and blue Campari parasol, alone.Olivier stepped out immediately, like the police officer's personal butler. Beauvoir took the menu and ordered a drink, looking relaxed. Peter envied that Beauvoir could sit leisurely by himself.He also envied those who sat in twos and threes, enjoying each other's company.Being alone was the worst thing possible for Peter.Unless he was in the studio, or with Clara, just the two of them.

But now, he was dropped by Clara, standing alone by the road. Peter Morrow didn't know what to do. "Your man can't eat lunch, he should be annoyed." Susan nodded towards the tavern. They left Clara's garden and decided to take a walk on the village green.Ruth sat on a bench in the middle of the little park that was the source of gravity for Three Pines. She looked up to the sky, and Garmash wondered if her prayers would actually be answered.He too looked up at the sky, just as he had put his hands on his prayer sticks. But the sky was empty and still. His eyes returned to the ground.Beauvoir sat at a table in the tavern, watching them.

"He doesn't look very happy," Susan said. "He's not happy when he's hungry." "Then I'm sure he's often hungry," said Susan.The Inspector looked at her, expecting to see the ubiquitous smile, but was surprised to find her serious. They continue their walk. "Why did Lillian Dyson come to Three Pines?" asked Garmash. "I've been thinking about that too." "Then have you come to a conclusion?" "I think it's nothing more than two things. She came here to repair the damage that has already been done," Susan stopped and looked directly at Garmash, "or to cause more damage."

The inspector nodded, and he thought so too.But what a world of difference.In one world, Lillian is healthy and sane; in another, she is cruel, unrepentant, and unrepentant.She is the king's servant going to save others?Or come to Sansong Town to push others off the high wall? Garmash put on his reading glasses and opened the thick book.He had left it in the tavern and found it again. "Alcohol is like a tornado, sweeping through other people's lives," he read in a low, calm voice, looking at Susan over half-moon glasses. "We found the book on her nightstand. The words were fluorescent The pen is marked."

He holds the book up, Alcoholics Anonymous in bright white lettering on a dark background. Susan grinned. "Not very serious. It's actually kind of ironic." Garmash smiled, lowered his head and continued to read, "There is more. The heart is broken. The sweet relationship is dead." He slowly closed the book and took off his glasses. "Can this explain something?" Susan held out her hand, and Garmash handed her the book.She opened the book to the bookmark, glanced at it, and smiled. "That means she's on step nine." She handed the book back to Gamache. "She must be reading this part of the book. In this step, we make amends to those who have hurt. I guess this is The purpose of her coming here."

"What's the ninth step?" "Where possible, make direct reparations to these individuals, unless doing so would harm them or others," she quoted. "these people?" "It's the people we've hurt with our actions. I think she's here to apologize." "The sweet relationship is dead," said Garmash. "You think she came here to talk to Clara Moreau? To, what do you say? To make amends?" "Maybe. It sounds like there used to be a lot of art people here. Maybe she came here to apologize to one of them. God knows, she owes a lot to people."

"But would anyone actually do that?" "What do you mean?" "If I wanted to apologize sincerely, I wouldn't choose to be at a party." "That's a good question." She sighed. "There's one more thing that I really don't want to admit. I'm not sure she's really on step nine. I don't feel like she's done the steps before this one. " "Does it matter? Do you have to come in order?" "No, but it's better that way. What if you just skip freshman year and skip straight to fourth year?" "It probably won't work."

"That's right." "But what does it mean here that it doesn't work? You don't get kicked out of AA either, do you?" Susan laughed, though there was nothing really to laugh about, "No. Listen, all steps are important, but step nine is perhaps the most subtle and worrisome. This is the first time we've The moment to really step out of ourselves, into someone else, and take responsibility for what we've done. If that step isn't done right..." "What will happen?" "We're going to cause more harm. To others, and to ourselves."

She stopped to smell a cluster of lilacs in bloom beside the road.Garmash suspected that she was also giving herself time to think. "It's beautiful," she said, taking her nose away from the fragrant flowers and looking around as if seeing this beautiful village for the first time. "I can imagine what it's like to live here. It's a great place to call home. " Garmash didn't speak, feeling as if she was trying to introduce something. "Our lives, when we're drinking, are pretty complicated and chaotic. We get into all kinds of trouble and it's a mess. This is where we want to be, sunny and peaceful. But as we Every day we drink too much, we get further and further away from it."

Susan looked at the small farmhouses around the village green.Most homes have porches and front gardens where peonies, lupines and roses bloom.Cats and dogs hang out in the sun. "We longed for home. After years of fighting with those around us, with ourselves, we just longed for peace." "And how did you find it?" asked Garmache.He knew better than most, and had a calmness that was hard to find even in a place like San Song Township. "Well, first we have to find ourselves. Somewhere along the way, we got lost and ended up addicted to alcohol and drugs, farther and farther away from who we really are." Susan turned to Gamash, smiling again on her face, "But some of us can find our way back from the wilderness." She looked away from Garmash's dark brown eyes, from the village's greens, homes, and shops, to the surrounding forests and mountains, "Drink Drunkenness is only part of the problem. It's a mental illness, a disease of perception." She tapped a few times on her temples. "We see things and think things all distorted. We call it fishy thinking. I can tell you, Inspector, that changing our perception is a very difficult and frightening thing. Most people can't do it. Only a lucky few can do it. When we do this, we find ourselves. Yes," she looked around, "we found a home." "You have to change your minds before you can change your hearts?" asked Gamache. Susan didn't answer.Instead, she continued to stare at the small village. "What an interesting thing. You can't get a cell phone here. We walked all the way, and not a single car drove by. I wonder if the outside world knows it exists." "This is a nameless village," said Garmash. "It's not on any map. You'll have to find it yourself." He turned to Susan. "Are you sure Lillian really quit drinking?" "Oh yes. Since her first party." "When was that?" Susan thought for a moment, "About eight months ago." Garmash calculated, "Then she joined AA in October. Do you know why?" "You mean, what happened? No. For some people, like Brian, something terrible happened, and the world fell apart, and they fell apart. For others, it was quiet, almost Undetectable, more like a disintegration of the inner world. Lillian is like that." Gamash nodded, "Have you ever been to her house?" "No. We always meet at a café near my house." "Have you seen any of her paintings?" "No. She told me she was drawing again, but I haven't seen it. I don't want to." "Why? As a painter yourself, I thought it would interest you." "Actually, I'm really interested. Guess I'm a nosy person. But it doesn't seem like it's doing anyone any good. If her drawings are good, I might get jealous, which isn't good. If she Her paintings are crappy, what should I say? So no, I haven't seen her paintings." "Can you really be jealous of the person you lead? Doesn't sound like the kind of relationship you're portraying." "That's the ideal state. I'm close to perfect, as you can see, but a little bit worse." Susan laughed. "That's my only shortcoming, jealousy." "And meddling." "My two flaws, jealousy and meddling. I'm also a bit bossy. Oh man, I'm really bad." she laughed. "I also know you are in debt." This sentence made Susan stop in her tracks. "How do you know?" She stared at him, but Gamache didn't answer.She nodded resignedly. "Of course you would. Yes, I have debts. I've never been good financially. Now that it's clear that I can't steal, life is even harder." She smiled at him with relief, "Another shortcoming, my list of shortcoming is getting longer and longer." The list is indeed getting longer, Garmash thought.What else had she not told him?He was amazed that two painters could not look at each other's work.Lillian hadn't shown her paintings to anyone, either for approval or criticism. What would Susan do?What can she do after discovering that Lillian is so talented?Jealousy ignites and kills Lillian? Seems unlikely. But it was strange indeed: Eight months of intimacy, Susan had never been to Lillian's house, never seen her paintings. Suddenly another question entered Garmash's mind. "Is AA the place where you first met? Or did you know each other before that?" You can see what this question hits.Although the smile did not fade away, her eyes became sharper. "Actually, we did know each other, although 'know' is not the exact word. We met at an art exhibition many years ago. That was before she went to New York, but we weren't friends at all." "Then are you friendly to her?" "After a few drinks? I'm more than friendly, Inspector." Susan laughed. "But probably not for Lillian." "Well, it's not like that," agreed Susan. "Actually, I'm not worthy of her attention. She's the mighty critic of the News, and I'm just another alcoholic painter. Our relationship? She's a You bastard, you've always been famous. No matter how much you drink, you won't want to get close to Lillian." Garmash thought for a moment, then walked forward. "How long have you been at AA?" he asked. "As of March 18, it's been 23 years." "23 years?" He was shocked, and it showed. "You should have met me when I first joined," she laughed. "Crazy. What you see now is the result of 23 years of hard work." They passed the terrace of the tavern.Beauvoir pointed to his beer, and Garmache nodded. The two continued to move forward. "Twenty-three years," repeated Garmash, "did you stop drinking when Lillian went to New York?" "should be." "Is this just a coincidence?" "She's not a part of my life. Whether I get drunk or sober has nothing to do with Lillian." Susan's voice was a little sharp, and she was slightly angry. "Do you still paint?" asked Garmache. "Draw a little, mostly just for fun. Take some lessons, teach some lessons, visit some art exhibitions because there's free food and drinks." "Did Lillian mention Clara and the exhibit?" "She never mentioned Clara, not by name anyway. But she said she had to make amends to a lot of painters, dealers, and gallerists, and Clara was probably one of them." "Are they among them? Do you know?" Garmash turned his head slightly, indicating to the two people who were sitting in front of the porch of the B&B hotel and looking over here. "Paulette and Normand? No, she hasn't mentioned them either. But I wouldn't be surprised if she owed them an apology. She's not very good when she drinks." "Or when writing. He was a genius and making art was like a biological function of him," Gamash quotes. "Oh, you know that too?" "Obviously you know that too." "Every painter in Quebec knows it. It's Lillian's masterpiece, and as a critic, her crowning glory. Almost assassinated." "Do you know who this sentence is talking about?" "You do not know?" "Do you know if I still ask?" Susan studied Garmash's eyes, "It's possible, you're cunning. But no, I don't know." Almost assassinated.This is the true portrayal of this sentence.Lillian delivered the coup de grace with this statement.Has the victim waited decades to return her favor? "Do you mind if I sit here?" Before waiting for an answer, Mona had already sat down.Once she sat down, it was not easy to move her away. Beauvoir looked at her with an unwelcoming expression. "sure, no problem." He looked at the terrace.A few people sat at tables in the sun, drinking beer and lemonade or iced tea, but there were a few empty tables.Why did Myrna sit next to him? The only possible reason was the very reason he dreaded most. "How are you doing?" she asked. That's what she wants to talk about.He took a slow sip of his beer. "I'm fine, thank you." Myrna nodded, flicking the condensation on her beer glass. "The weather is fine," she said at last. Beauvoir stared ahead, thinking the question was not worth answering.Maybe she should understand that he wanted to be alone and think about things. "What are you thinking?" Now he had to watch her.Her expression was soft and interested, but not sharp or aggressive. Comfortable expression. "The case," he lied. "I see." The two looked towards the green area of ​​the village, and there were not many people active.Ruth was throwing dry bread at the birds, a few villagers were working in the garden, a man was walking the dog, the Inspector and a strange woman were walking along the dirt road. "Who is she?" "A man who knew the dead man," replied Beauvoir.There is no need to make it too clear. Mona nodded and picked a few large cashews from the bowl of mixed nuts. "It's nice that the Inspector looks stronger. Do you think he's cured?" "Of course, healed up a long time ago." "Oh, not so long ago," she reasoned. "It just happened before Christmas." really?Beauvoir said to himself, feeling surprised.Only six months?Seems like it was many years ago. "Well, he's fine. Me too." "Confused, insecure, neurotic and egotistical? Ruth's definition of 'good'?" This sentence made him laugh involuntarily.He tried to change his expression into a grimace, but couldn't. "I don't know about the Inspector, but that statement fits me well." Myrna smiled and took a sip of her beer.She stared at Beauvoir, whose eyes followed Garmache. "It's not your fault, you know." Beauvoir's heart tightened, and he twitched involuntarily, "What do you mean—?" "What happened in the factory, happened to him. There was nothing you could do about it." "I know." He said quickly. "I doubt it. It must have been scary, what you saw." "Why are you saying this?" Beauvoir asked.He is a little dizzy.Suddenly, everything is messed up. "Because I think you need to hear this. You can't save him in time every time." Myrna looked at the tired young man opposite.He was suffering, she knew.She also knew that there were only two things that could cause such pain after they had happened for so long. love, guilt. "Things tend to break in the hardest places," she said. "Where did you hear that?" He stared at her. "I read it in an interview with Inspector Garmash. Right after that attack. He was right. But it took a long time and a lot of people to fix it. You probably thought he died." Beauvoir thought so.He saw the Inspector get hit, collapsed, and lay motionless on the ground. Dead, or about to die.Beauvoir was sure. He did nothing to save the Inspector. "There was nothing you could do," Myrna said, reading his thoughts correctly, "There was nothing you could do." "How do you know?" Beauvoir demanded, "How can you know?" "Because I saw it, on the video." "You think you can learn everything from the video?" "You really thought you could have done more?" Beauvoir turned around, feeling the familiar pain in his stomach turn into a stabbing pain.He knew Mona had good intentions, but he just wanted her to leave now. She was not there.He didn't believe, and never will believe, that there was nothing he could do then. The Inspector saved his life by dragging him to safety and bandaging him.But when Garmash is wounded, it is Detective Lacoste who rushes in recklessly and saves the Inspector's life. He didn't do anything, just lay there and watched. "You like her?" asked Garmache. They had come full circle and were now standing on the green opposite the bistro terrace.He saw André Castonguet and François Marois sitting at the table, enjoying their lunch.Or, just enjoying the food, not the other person's company.They don't seem to talk much. "Yes," said Susan, "she has changed. She is thoughtful and optimistic. When she first appeared in the church basement, I did not expect to like her. Before she left here for New York, we Not the best of friends. But we were both young and alcoholic back then. I suspect we were both bad. But people change." "Are you so sure Lillian has changed?" "Are you sure I've changed?" Susan laughed. That's a good question, Garmash had to admit. But another problem arose, one he was surprised hadn't thought about before. "How did you find Sansong Town?" "What do you mean?" "Outsiders can hardly find this village. But now, you are standing here." "He drove me here." Garmash turned around and looked in the direction she was pointing.Across the terrace, and in a window, a man stands with his back to them, holding a book. Although he couldn't see his face, Garmash could recognize the rest of his body.Thierry Pinault was standing by the window of Murna's bookstore.