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“Yes.” He resisted saying “amateur.” By now, Armand suspected Miss Wolcott knew far more than most of her learned contemporaries. “She collected plants in her travels and left them in gardens she created in her various estates, including here in Aix-les-Bains. She fell on hard times. Her place here was one of the last she kept. Why would that be?”

The botanist was considering. “Our climate is not unlike yours in Québec. Maybe that’s why.”

“But she wasn’t Québécoise and, as far as we know, never visited Québec.”

“Then why are you interested?” asked the professor.

Armand rubbed his face and realized there was stubble. “To be honest, I don’t really know how all this fits into my investigation.”

“Well, I hope that”—the librarian indicated the dossier—“is some help. There’s not much there unfortunately, but you’re welcome to sit here and read.”

“I’ve just come off an overnight flight. Do you have a cafeteria? I need a strong coffee.”

“We do. Though there’s a much better café across the street.”

“May I take this with me?” He held up the slender file.

“As long as you promise to bring it back. I should probably ask for your ID.”

He brought it out and saw her eyebrows rise. “You’re the head of homicide?”

“I am.” He put it back in his breast pocket.

“Ahhh,” she said. “Somehow the late Daisy Wolcott is tied up in a murder?”

“And her ghost.” This time they didn’t laugh.

“And you’ve come all this way,” said the librarian.

“I have.”

“Alors, let me dig a little deeper. See if there’s anything else to find. Sometimes things are misfiled.”

“Merci. I will bring this back.”

The professor walked him to through the corridors toward the main door.

“Rosemary keeps coming up in this investigation. Can you think why?”

“The herb? It’s not rare. Pretty little plant, as you know. A rugged perennial. Native to the Mediterranean. Used in cooking and aromatherapy. Does that help?”

But he could see he wasn’t telling the Chief Inspector anything he didn’t already know. Considering that a challenge to his authority as a professor of botany, he racked his brain for something this man might not know.

Rosemary. Rosemary.

“It’s said to restore memory.” Still no joy from this police officer. Think. Think. “It was used by the Egyptians to protect souls in the afterlife.” Ahhhh, a spark of interest. “Maybe that’s where your ghost comes from.”

The Chief Inspector smiled.

“The café’s across the way.” The professor pointed.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll ask around as well, Chief Inspector.”

“Oh, that reminds me, did you get a message from your counterpart in Montréal? Dr. Lagacé?”

“About this? No. I’d have mentioned it.”