man.”
“There was a huge obituary in the New York Times,” said Mr. Blake. “He was considered a hero by many people.”
“And a nut by many too,” admitted Elizabeth.
“Why would Augustin Renaud be interested in Chiniquy?”
All three shook their heads. Gamache thought some more.
“The big Presbyterian church is right next door, and the Lit and His has a number of his books, is it fair to assume there might have been a connection? A relationship?”
“Between Charles Chiniquy and the Lit and His?” asked Elizabeth.
“Well, there was James Douglas, he’d be a connection,” said Mr. Blake.
“And who is that?” asked Gamache. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Blake turned in their seats and looked out a window. Gamache and Émile also looked but in the dark they saw only their own reflections.
“That’s James Douglas,” said Mr. Blake. Still they stared, and still all they saw were their own baffled faces.
“The window?” asked Gamache finally, after waiting long enough for Émile to ask the nonsensical question.
“Not the window, the bust,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “That’s James Douglas.”
Sure enough, on the deep windowsill there stood a white alabaster bust of a Victorian gentleman. They always looked disturbing to Gamache. It was the white, empty eyes, as though the artist had sculpted a ghost.
“He was one of the founders of the Literary and Historical Society,” said Mr. Blake.
Elizabeth leaned forward and said to Émile beside her, “He was also a grave robber. Collected mummies, you know.”
Neither Gamache nor Émile did know. But they wanted to.
SEVENTEEN
“I’m afraid you’ll have to explain yourself, madame,” said Émile, with a smile. “Mummies?”
“Now, there was an original,” Mr. Blake jumped in, warming to the subject. “James Douglas was a doctor, by all accounts a gifted physician. He could amputate a limb in less than ten seconds.” On seeing their faces he continued, chastising them slightly. “It mattered back then. No anesthetic. Every moment must have been agony. Dr. Douglas saved a lot of people a lot of agony. He was also a brilliant teacher.”
“Which is where the bodies come in,” said Elizabeth, with more relish than they’d have expected. “He started off somewhere in the States—”
“Pittsburgh,” said Mr. Blake.
“But was run out of town after he was caught grave robbing.”
“It wasn’t like it is today,” said Mr. Blake. “He was a doctor and they needed bodies for dissection. It was common practice to take them from paupers’ graves.”
“But probably not common practice for the doctors themselves to dig them up,” said Gamache to Elizabeth’s muffled laugh.
Mr. Blake paused. “That is, perhaps, true,” he conceded. “Still, there was never any question of personal gain. He never sold them, only used the corpses to teach his students, most of whom went on to distinguished careers.”
“But he got caught?” Émile turned to Elizabeth.
“Made a mistake. He dug up a prominent citizen and the man was recognized by one of the students.”
Now everyone grimaced.
“So he came to Québec?” asked Gamache.
“Started teaching here,” said Mr. Blake. “He also opened a mental hospital just outside the city. He was a visionary, you know. This was at a time when the deranged were tossed into places worse than prisons, locked up for life.”
“Bedlam,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Blake nodded. “James Douglas was considered more than a little strange because he believed the mentally ill should be treated with respect. His hospital helped hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. People no one else wanted.”
“Must have been an extraordinary man,” said Émile.
“He was, by most accounts,” said Mr. Blake, “a miserable, opinionated, arrogant man. Wretched. Except, when dealing with the poor and displaced. Then he showed remarkable compassion. Strange, isn’t it?”
Gamache nodded. It was what made his job so fascinating, and so difficult. How the same person could be both kind and cruel, compassionate and wretched. Unraveling a murder was more about getting to know the people than the evidence. People who were contrary and contradictory, and who often didn’t even know themselves.
“But where do the mummies come in?” asked Émile.
“Well, he apparently continued to take bodies from graves in and around Quebec City,” said Elizabeth. “Again, just for teaching. He seems to have stayed clear of digging up the premier minister or any archbishops but his fascination with bodies does seem to have spread beyond just teaching.”
“He was simply curious,” said Mr. Blake, a slight defensiveness in his voice.
“He was that,” agreed Elizabeth. “Dr. Douglas was on vacation in Egypt and brought back a couple of mummies. Used to keep them in his home and would give talks in this very room