Page 128 of Miss Wolcott’s Ghost

“Yes. It was ruined.” Now his eyes had grown wary.

He knows what I’m about to ask, Reine-Marie realized.

“As I said, I’ve tried to imagine what Armand would do, if that happened to him.”

“And?”

“And it’s possible he would take something from the scene. Something of immeasurable value to him. To us. But of no value to any investigation.”

She was inching toward it. Giving him time to think. To prepare. To decide.

“Did you take anything?”

His caregiver brought the drinks and set the tray down. There was also a plate of Social Tea biscuits. The woman looked at Monsieur Péladeau, to make sure he was all right, then left.

“You’re the second person to ask. Why’re you so interested?”

“Who was the first?”

“A man. He left his email address, in case I changed my mind. He seemed nice. Kind. Not pushy.” He consulted his phone. “Brian Fillmore.”

Instead of asking again, Reine-Marie gave Monsieur Péladeau space.

“You think your husband would have taken something?”

“I do. And so would I.”

He could see that was no lie. “Yes. I found her little perfume bottle. An atomizer, I think they’re called. Unbroken. It was on the ground a distance from the car. It had her scent. I still…” He paused, then continued. “There was a shoe. And what I think you’re looking for. A cassette tape.”

“Did you listen to it?”

He shook his head.

“Did you give the tape to Monsieur Fillmore?”

“What’s this about, Madame Gamache?”

“Brian Fillmore was found dead two days ago, on a grave in Lost Nation. As I said, I’m an archivist and librarian. I know that the work your daughter did was important. Oral history is. But I think those conversations she recorded with Flossy Fuller go beyond that.”

“She wasn’t murdered. They weren’t murdered.” His voice was strong with a conviction long propped up.

“But Brian Fillmore was. Do you still have the tape?”

As Armand was driving up du Moulin out of Three Pines on his way to Montréal, he saw Reine-Marie coming in the opposite direction.

He stopped. She stopped. They both got out.

“I have something for you.”

She handed him a baggie. In it was a cassette tape labeled OH II. “Oral History Two.”

“How did you…?”

“Her father found it at the site along with some other things that had belonged to Solange. All I did was try to imagine what you or I would have done, in his place.”

“But did you know there was another tape?”

“Ohio.”