Page 20 of Miss Wolcott’s Ghost

CHAPTER 9

Once again, the homicide team set up their Incident Room in the Old Train Station in Three Pines across the Rivière Bella Bella from the village itself.

The space was shared with the volunteer fire department, and while Ruth Zardo was no longer the fire chief, no one had the courage to tell her, since she was far more alarming than any fire. And so, her photo remained on the wall, staring, glaring down at them.

Technicians carried equipment past the big red fire truck, past helmets and tall boots and bright yellow firefighter’s coats hanging in a line on the far wall. There were names over each hook.

Gabri, Olivier, Clara, Myrna, Ruth, Sarah, and Monsieur Béliveau, who ran the General Store and whom no one called, or probably recalled, his first name. There was a hook and coat for Reine-Marie and Armand.

Under Inspector Beauvoir’s supervision, desks, workstations, computers, internet were set up, while Chief Inspector Gamache walked across the stone bridge to Clara Morrow’s home.

She was waiting for him, along with Myrna.

“You really didn’t need to,” said Clara, pointing to the now very wilted plant he’d brought with him in a bag.

“People will talk,” said Myrna.

He smiled as he held it up toward the two of them. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“May I?” Myrna indicated the plant.

“Best not to touch it,” said Armand and watched as she leaned close.

“A member of the thistle family, I think. Where did you find it?”

“In the forest.”

“Really? Hmmmm.” Myrna looked at it more closely, then examined the roots. “Looks like it doesn’t spread underground. Probably self-seeding. It’s a few weeks away from blooming.”

“I understand there’s an app.”

“Oh, right. Let me check.”

“You didn’t bring it here just out of curiosity,” said Clara, while Myrna consulted the internet. “Evidence?”

“We found it growing around the body.”

They all knew by now that he had indeed found not just Lost Nation, but a body there.

His agents were busy gathering information. It would soon come flooding in so quickly that it would be hard to keep their heads above the facts, the conjecture, the truth, and the lies. It was so easy, at this point, to become overwhelmed and disoriented.

The Chief Inspector’s job was to be the firm hand on the tiller. And to bail.

“No, nothing,” Myrna reported, clicking her phone off. “I’ve never seen it stumped.”

Clara snorted, and when they looked at her, she said, “Stumped? Stumped by a plant? No? Nothing. Never mind.”

“Anyway,” said Myrna, returning to Gamache. “You’ll have to get professional help.”

“Ruth’s been saying that for years,” said Clara, with a laugh.

“What’s wrong with you today?” asked Myrna.

“I’m sorry. I’m feeling really off balance. I can’t believe whoever called you used my number. Makes me sick. Was it the murderer, do you think?”

“I don’t think so. Whoever it was sounded panicked. Shocked. And this might not be murder. Could be natural, or even a suicide. We have to wait for the autopsy.”

“But how did he get my number? Why me?”