Page 91

Gamache nodded. He too wanted to be clear.

“In,” Beauvoir started, already consulting his notes, “1862, Pierre Stone is approached to build a wall.”

Beauvoir could barely believe he was saying those words. In a murder investigation they always looked to the past, but never that far past.

“C’est correct,” said Gamache.

“He writes a letter to a woman named Clémence, describing the commission.”

Gamache nodded and looked at the copy of the letter, sitting between them on the table. The original, along with the other documents, had been sent to Montréal for analysis.

“He builds the wall and seals up the room next to what is now Myrna’s loft.”

“The row of buildings was originally put up as workers’ cottages by the owner of the mill,” said Gamache. “The date on the bricks corresponds to the date on Pierre Stone’s letter.”

“So that fits,” said Beauvoir. “But the letter doesn’t. You don’t think Stone wrote it.”

“What letter?” said Agent Choquet. “Is this it?”

They looked up and realized all the technicians had gone and the Incident Room had been set up, complete with coffee machine, mini-fridge, blackboard, desks, computers. And fiber-optic cable, something Inspector Beauvoir rarely managed to get technicians to connect.

She must’ve scared them silly, thought Gamache.

She must’ve scared them shitless, thought Beauvoir.

Both were correct.

Gamache was about to suggest Amelia join them, but she’d already taken a seat and was reading the letter.

“He was a stonemason in the mid-1800s?” she asked. “There’s no way he wrote this.” She shoved it away from her.

“Thank you,” said the Chief Inspector, before turning back to Beauvoir, who was glaring at Agent Choquet. “Continue, Inspector. And you”—Gamache turned to Amelia—“listen.”

Beauvoir actually smiled. It was almost exactly what the Chief had said to him that day years ago, by the shores of that lake.

“Fast-forward to five weeks ago, when the Stone letter arrives at the former home of Pierre Stone, mailed by some unknown person. Patricia Godin reads it, then either she forwards it to Billy Williams or someone else does. Shortly after that, she dies—”

“But don’t you—” Amelia began.

“Listening,” said Gamache. “Listening.”

“The local police put her death down as suicide,” Beauvoir continued.

There was a clicking sound from Agent Choquet. But no actual words.

Beauvoir stared at her, then noticed that Gamache was looking at the table and fighting unsuccessfully to suppress a grin.

“What?” said Beauvoir.

The clicking was Morse code.

Bullshit. Bullshit.

Gamache gave Amelia a stern warning glance and the clicking stopped. “Nothing. Go on.”

“Billy Williams reads the letter and shows it to Ruth. Both think it’s strange, but nothing more. Just some incident from the past, until Fiona mentions the hidden room.”

Gamache sat forward, as did Amelia, who was clearly tempted to talk but managed to remain silent.