'This is Inspector Jean Guy Beauvoir and Agent Yvette Nichol.' They all shook hands, though Nichol was slightly leery, not sure what he'd wiped his face with after throwing up.
'How can I help?'
'Let's walk,' Gamache pointed down the path through the woods, 'just a little away from here.'
'Thank you,' said Ben, genuinely grateful.
'I'm sorry about the death of Miss Neal. Was she a close friend?'
'Very. She actually taught me at the school house here.'
Gamache was watching him attentively, his dark brown eyes on Ben's face, taking in what was being said, without judgment or accusation. Ben could feel himself relax for the first time in hours. Gamache said nothing, just waited for Ben to continue.
'She was a wonderful woman. I wish I was good with words, I could begin to describe her for you.' Ben turned his face away, ashamed of the tears that came up again. He balled his hands into fists and could feel the welcome pain of his fingernails biting into his palms. That was a pain he could understand. The other was beyond his comprehension. Strangely it was so much greater than when his mother had died. He gathered himself again, 'I don't understand what's happened. Jane's death wasn't natural, was it?'
'No, Mr Hadley, it wasn't.'
'Someone killed her?'
'Tell us about this morning, please.'
By now their walking had slowed and petered to a stop.
'I found Jane just lying--'
Gamache interrupted, 'From the time you woke up, please.' Ben raised an eyebrow but did as he was asked.
'I woke up at about seven. I always get up with the sun. The light comes into my bedroom and I never bothered to get curtains. I got up, had a shower and the rest, and fed Daisy.' He watched their faces closely, looking for some sign that he was giving too much or too little detail. The woman agent looked as puzzled as he felt. The tall good-looking Inspector (Ben had already forgotten their names) was writing everything down. And the boss looked interested and encouraging. 'Then we went outside for a walk, but she has arthritis and this morning she was very sore. Daisy's a dog, by the way. Anyway, I let her back in the house and took myself off for a walk. This was a quarter to eight.' Ben figured, correctly, they'd be interested in the timing. 'It takes just a few minutes to walk here, up the road and past the school house then into the woods.'
'Did you see anyone?' Beauvoir asked.
'No, I didn't. It's possible someone saw me, but I missed them. I tend to walk with my head down, lost in thought. I've passed right by people without noticing them. My friends know that about me and don't take offense. I was walking along the path and something made me look up.'
'Please try to remember, Mr Hadley. If you normally walk with your head down, why would you raise it?'
'Odd, isn't it? I can't remember. But unfortunately, as I said, I'm normally lost in thought. Never deep or important thoughts. My mother used to laugh and say some people try to be in two places at once. I, on the other hand, am generally nowhere.' Ben laughed, but Nichol privately thought that was an awful thing for a mother to say.
'She was right, of course. Look at today. Beautiful sunshine. I'm walking through the gorgeous woods. It's like a postcard, but I don't notice anything, don't appreciate it, except perhaps sometime later when I'm somewhere else and thinking about this walk. It seems my mind is constantly one step behind my body.'
'Looking up, sir,' Beauvoir prompted.
'I really can't think what made me look up, but it's a good thing I did. I might have fallen right over her. Funny but it never occurred to me that she was dead. I was reluctant to disturb her. I kind of tiptoed up and called her name. Then I noticed a stillness and my mind just kind of exploded. I thought she'd had a stroke, or heart attack.' He shook his head, still in disbelief.
'Did you actually touch the wound?' Beauvoir asked.
'I think I might have. I just remember leaping up and wiping my hands on my pants. I panicked and like a--I don't know what - an hysterical child I ran in circles. Idiot! Anyway, I finally got a hold of myself and dialed 911 on my cell phone.'
'I'm curious,' said Gamache. 'Why did you bring a cell phone to walk in the woods?'
'These woods belong to my family and every fall hunters trespass. I'm not a brave man, I'm afraid, but I can't tolerate killing. Killing anything. I have spiders in my home with names. In the mornings when I go for a walk I bring a cell phone. Partly out of fear that I'll get shot by some drunken hunter and need to call for help and partly to call Natural Resources and get a warden up here if I do spot someone.'
'And what would that number be?' asked Chief Inspector Gamache pleasantly.
'I don't know. I have it on my speed dial. I know that my hands shake when I'm nervous, so I just programmed the number in.' Ben looked concerned for the first time and Inspector Gamache took him by the arm and led him further up the path.
'I'm sorry about these questions. You're an important witness and, frankly, the person who finds the body is near the top of our list of suspects.'
Ben stopped in his tracks and looked at the Inspector, incredulous.
'Suspected of what? What are you saying?' Ben turned around and looked back in the direction they'd come, toward Jane's body. 'That's Jane Neal over there. A retired schoolteacher who tended roses and ran the ACW, the Anglican Church Women. It can't be anything other than an accident. You don't understand. Nobody would kill her on purpose.'
Nichol was watching this exchange and now waited with some satisfaction for Chief Inspector Gamache to set this stupid man straight.
'You're absolutely right, Mr Hadley. That's by far the likeliest possibility.' Yvette Nichol couldn't believe her ears. Why didn't he just tell Hadley to get off his soapbox and let them do their jobs? After all, he was the idiot who disturbed the body then ran around messing up and contaminating the whole site. He was hardly in a position to lecture a man as senior and respected as Gamache.
'In the few hours you've been standing here, has anything about the scene or about Miss Neal seemed out of place?'
Gamache was impressed that Ben chose not to say the obvious. Instead he thought for a minute.
'Yes. Lucy, her dog. I can't remember Jane ever going for a walk without Lucy, especially a morning walk.'
'Did you call anyone else on your cell?'
Ben looked as though he'd been presented with a totally new, and brilliant, idea.
'Oh. Such an idiot! I can't believe it. It never occurred to me to call Peter, or Clara or anyone. Here I was all alone, not wanting to leave Jane, but having to wave down the police. And it never occurred to me to call for help, except 911. Oh my God, the shock, I suppose.'
Or maybe, thought Nichol, you really are an idiot. So far it would be difficult to find a human being less effective than Ben Hadley.
'Who are Peter and Clara?' Beauvoir asked.
'Peter and Clara Morrow. My best friends. They live next door to Jane. Jane and Clara were like mother and daughter. Oh, poor Clara. Do you think they know?'
'Well, let's find out,' said Gamache suddenly, walking with surprising speed back down the path toward the body. Once at the scene he turned to Beauvoir.
'Inspector, take over here. You know what you're looking for. Agent, stay with the Inspector and help him. What time is it?'
'Eleven-thirty, sir,' said Nichol.
'Right. Mr Hadley, is there a restaurant or cafe in the village?'
'Yes, there's Olivier's Bistro.'
Gamache turned to Beauvoir. 'Assemble the team at Olivier's at one-thirty. We'll miss the lunch rush and should have the place almost to ourselves. Is that correct, Mr Hadley?'
'Hard to say, really. It's possible as word gets out the village will congregate there. Olivier's is the Central Station of Three Pines. But he has a back room he opens only for dinner. It overlooks the river. He'd probably open it for you and your team.'