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There was someone she needed to visit, to ask. Reine-Marie made for her car.

Armand did not sit down. He didn’t intend to stay that long.

By the time he crossed the threshold of the B&B, his anger had blown itself out.

The gale had blown him. / Past the Cape Horn of sensible success.

Armand smiled as he thought of that line from Auden. He’d almost been propelled past sensible success. Almost allowed his anger to win. Instead, he’d found himself back in the familiar surroundings of the B&B.

Becalmed.

“Did you find a cassette?”

“No.” Comeau stood well out of arm’s reach. “I searched her office and her home.”

“Her home?”

“I have a key. We’re friends.”

Gamache tilted his head. That certainly smelled like a lie. “There was a transcription. Did she find it? Did you?”

“No. But I did find a phone. I took it, thinking it belonged to Jeanette and I could figure out where she was. I saw that it had your personal number in it, so I kept it. Hey, what’re you doing?”

“Stay where you are.”

Armand reached forward and plucked something off Comeau’s sweater. “You’ve been at the crime scene recently. Why?”

“I wasn’t.”

Gamache held out his hand. In his palm was a small seed that had hooked itself onto Comeau’s clothing.

“This says otherwise. It’s from the plant on the grave.”

“I must’ve picked it up somewhere else.”

“No. It only grows in that one place. You were there.”

“Okay, I went back. I’d only seen the grave in the dark. I wanted a closer look.”

“And?”

“And I saw the date on the tombstone.”

“The sinking. Any other meaning?”

Comeau shook his head. “Not that I know of.” He leaned closer, peering at the pod in Gamache’s palm. “I’ve seen that before.”

“Yes, at the grave.”

“No. It was…” Comeau stopped to think. “In the office.”

“Jeanette’s?”

“No, Fillmore’s.”

“Which Fillmore?”

“Brian. I was vacuuming—” At the look on Gamache’s face, he amended that. “Okay, I was searching his office and saw it. I thought it was a bug. Those hooks look like little claws. It was that thing.”