Page 34 of Where the Snakes Sleep

“A research assistant, initially. In the early years, maintaining records, preparing materials, caring for specimens, helping Henri acquire what he needed.”

“Specimens meaning… snakes?”

“Some. Henri worked extensively with reptiles, but his interests spanned arthropods, amphibians, and even marine animals. Anything capable of producing interesting compounds.” Camille exhales softly. “Henri was ambitious. His research expanded quickly, and so did the number of animals he maintained. Montpellier became insufficient, so he acquired an estate.”

“Where was the estate?”

“Several kilometres from here.”

“From here?”

“Yes. It was called Le Mas Voclain.”

“What does ‘mas’ mean?”

“A traditional farmhouse or country property in the south. Though Le Mas Voclain ceased resembling a simple farmhouse rather quickly.”

“Why?”

“Henri expanded it with laboratories, specialized animal facilities, greenhouses, climate-controlled buildings, and staff quarters. It was more of a private research compound than a country estate.”

“I don’t remember seeing something like that on the bus ride here.”

“It was torn down many years ago,” Camille says, making me frown. I really don’t like the picture he’s painting in my mind. After another sip of his wine, Camille continues, “Alberte followed Henri to Le Mas.”

“Followed him?” My voice echoes off the shelves lined with leather-bound volumes. Camille nods. “How long had they known each other by then?”

“Several years. Four, perhaps five.”

“So my grandfather would’ve been twenty-five? And he picked up his life and moved away from the university because of Henri?”

“Yes.”

I stare at the filigreed edge of my plate. “That must’ve been a pretty good job.”

“Perhaps that was why.” His gaze flickers to mine.

I frown. “Why else would he do it?”

“There are a myriad of reasons people follow one another.” His tone dips, stirring something tense in my gut.

“So he got the cottage to be close to his job?”

“No. The cottage did not belong to Alberte yet.”

“So where did he live?”

“At Le Mas, with Henri and the other staff. He purchased the cottage later, in his mid-thirties. I suspect Alberte eventually wanted somewhere of his own.”

I sip my wine, imagining living with a boss for close to a decade. I don’t think I could do that.

Camille adds, “Living where one works can become oppressive.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Especially when your employer owns the house, directs your schedule, controls your resources, and surrounds you with people loyal only to him.” His words land like stones in my stomach.

“That’s oddly specific.” I fold my arms.