“I had a client once. Dead now, years ago. Lovely man. A commercial artist, but also a very fine creative artist. His home was full of these marvelous paintings. I discovered him when he was already quite old, though now that I think of it, he was younger than I am now.” Marois smiled, as did Gamache. He knew that feeling. “He was one of my first clients and he did quite well. He was thrilled, as was his wife. One day he asked a favor. Could his wife put in a few of her works into his next show. I was polite, but declined. But he was quite uncharacteristically insistent. I didn’t know her
“I had a client once. Dead now, years ago. Lovely man. A commercial artist, but also a very fine creative artist. His home was full of these marvelous paintings. I discovered him when he was already quite old, though now that I think of it, he was younger than I am now.” Marois smiled, as did Gamache. He knew that feeling. “He was one of my first clients and he did quite well. He was thrilled, as was his wife. One day he asked a favor. Could his wife put in a few of her works into his next show. I was polite, but declined. But he was quite uncharacteristically insistent. I didn’t know her well, and didn’t know her art at all. I suspected she was putting pressure on the old man. But I could see how important it was to him, so I relented. Gave her a corner, and a hammer.” He paused and his eyes flickered. “I’m not very proud of it now. I should have either treated her with respect, or declined the show totally. But I was young, and had a lot to learn.” He sighed. “The evening of the vernissage was the first time I saw her works. I walked into the room and everyone was crowded into that corner. You can guess what happened.” “All her paintings sold,” said Gamache. Marois nodded. “Every one, with people buying others she’d left in her home, sight unseen. There was even a bidding war for several of them. My client was a gifted artist. But she was better. Far better. A stunning find. A genuine Van Gogh’s ear.” “Pardon?” asked Gamache. “A what?” “What did the old man do?” Castongu...
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