Page 178 of Miss Wolcott’s Ghost

“I mean it,” he said. “Pay close attention. And make sure they’re watered. They must be cared for. They must not die. Is that clear?”

While the agents were unclear why this senior officer was so concerned about some weeds, they were clear that as the plants went, so went their careers.

“Oui, patron.”

The one in the Gamaches’ back garden was the only Ghost free in the world.

“I like it,” said Reine-Marie.

“So do I.” Ruth took a long sip of scotch as she looked down at the single plant, alone in the bed. “I am not the favorite child.”

Reine-Marie turned to her friend. It was rare for Ruth to admit she was a poet, and rarer still for her to quote from one of her own works.

“My darling, when it comes / right down to it,” said Reine-Marie. “And the light fails and the fog rolls in.”

“And you’re trapped in your overturned body,” said Clara.

“None of us is,” quoted Myrna. “Or else—”

“We all are,” said Ruth.

Armand reached down to pat Fred. The smelly old dog and Henri were at his feet, while Gracie was curled on top of Isabelle’s.

“Okay,” said Jean-Guy, after taking a sip of his iced tea. “Jeanette and Comeau were in it together. They know Fillmore is onto something, something that could be worth a fortune. So they watch him. After he goes to Clara’s place, Jeanette follows him, making up a cock-and-bull story about writing an article.”

“Cock-and-bull?” said Isabelle with amusement. “Sounds like a pub. The Cock and Bull. Where did you get that expression?”

“Honoré. Who got it from Ruth. Are you paying attention? Jeanette follows Fillmore down here, but can’t find anything since she really doesn’t know what they, or Fillmore, are looking for. She gets the SIM card from Clara’s phone and copies it into a burner, thinking maybe there’s something in her messages.”

Gamache sat forward. “Go on.”

“Meanwhile, Comeau is watching Fillmore. He follows him to Lost Nation, kills him, and steals whatever Fillmore dug up.”

“But they have a problem,” says Isabelle, joining in. “They have whatever was buried there, let’s say Miss Wolcott’s notes and maybe even Morrow’s second ledger—”

“But,” Jean-Guy leaped in, “they don’t know what it means. It’s only half of the puzzle, as we know. They need the seed.”

“Which is why Jeanette went to England and Daisy Wolcott’s estate,” said Isabelle. “To see if she could find it.”

“But why would she have broken it off with Comeau?” asked Jean-Guy.

“No, no, don’t you see?” Isabelle leaned forward. “He’s lying. She never did. Everything Comeau has told us is a lie. She never broke it off. And he never saw that seed in Brian Fillmore’s office. He’s been sabotaging our investigation all the way through.”

They looked at the Chief, who was quiet, thinking. Jean-Guy half expected him to get up and start walking. Instead, Gamache just sat still. Then finally came back to the one thing they knew for a fact.

“Why call me? If he killed Fillmore and had gotten away with it, the last thing he’d want is to alert the cops.”

“Maybe with Jeanette missing, he’d hit a wall,” said Isabelle. “He was using you, patron—”

Again. It went unsaid, but hung in the air.

“He needed you to investigate. To find the missing pieces that made Miss Wolcott’s notes so valuable.”

“The plant. The seed,” said Jean-Guy.

“If that’s the case,” said Armand, “and he had the notebook and the ledger, and now knows about the seed, why is he still around? He could sell it to the highest bidder. He doesn’t need us anymore.”

“Or maybe he does,” said Isabelle, quietly. “Maybe there’s more he needs you to do.”