Page 73 of Miss Wolcott’s Ghost

Gamache held the stare, before saying, “So, it’s nothing to do with the sinking of the Empress of Ireland?”

Fillmore’s smile widened. Armand was beginning to appreciate that the greater the smile, the greater the hit.

“I apologize, Chief Inspector. I can see I’ve been more than a little patronizing.”

“Not a problem, sir. Most people aren’t forthcoming the first go-around. It might be helpful if you can walk me through the real story of that picture and your connection to the ship.”

“And it might be helpful to me if you told me what this is about.”

“A body has been found. We suspect there might be a connection to your company.”

“A client?”

“The Empress of Ireland, sir. What does it have to do with Réunion?”

“What a strange question.” He slid back again and lifted his hands in resignation. “We have no actual, personal connection. As a child, my brother heard about the tragedy and became fascinated, fixated really. Okay, obsessed, with the whole story of the loss of the ship, and the fact few people even knew about it. That the victims and survivors were forgotten. He started researching it. Them. He wanted to find out more about the passengers and crew. He dug up all he could about them, then started in on their next of kin. It’s how Réunion started.”

“And James Clybourne?”

Again, that smile. “In doing his research, Brian discovered that the mail room steward on the Empress—”

“Aldous Clybourne. Presumably a relative.”

Charles squared his shoulder and clearly reassessed what he’d been planning to say. Perhaps what the brothers had rehearsed, should they be cornered into answering questions about the photo.

Now Charles was reduced to the truth. Or something akin to it.

“Yes. Brian found a news story that was in the Toronto Standard the day after the sinking that said Aldous had survived by swimming to shore. It seemed a remarkable, even incredible, feat. The shore would’ve been a mile away. Through frigid waters at night.”

“What was the real story?”

“Brian never found out. But he became fascinated and continued to focus his research on that family. Aldous was married and had two sons. One died in the Second World War. Ironically, he went down with his ship.”

“He joined the navy?”

“Yes. I sometimes wonder if Aldous ever told them about his experience on the Empress.”

“And the other son?”

“Became an architect. His son, James, became a botanist. It’s his photo we posted. In using that picture on our site, and saying he was a founder of Réunion, that was, for Brian, acknowledging the role the sinking played in the creation of the company. In his mind, it was true. If he hadn’t become so obsessed with researching Aldous’s relatives, he’d never have discovered the need out there. The yearning people have to reconnect with their roots. Their family tree. For many, it’s more than mere curiosity. People are isolated, Chief Inspector. You must find that. They’re often lonely. We give them a family. It’s—”

“I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to follow the logic. If your brother really wanted to acknowledge the role the sinking played in the creation of his company and to bring people’s attention to a forgotten tragedy, why not have a section on your site, and maybe a plaque in your lobby, describing what happened? How the idea for Réunion goes back to the Empress of Ireland. Wouldn’t that be a more fitting tribute? That photo of a survivor’s grandson tells people nothing. It doesn’t track.”

“It does for Brian. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gamache began to suspect that that would be the answer to any uncomfortable, inconvenient question.

“What became of Aldous?”

“I don’t think Brian ever found out. But again—”

“I’ll have to ask him. And I will. Can you give me his contact information?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t actually know where he is. Brian does this from time to time. Just disappears.”