Page 189

“Wait, this can’t be true.”

“It is. It happened in May 1914. More than a thousand people lost their lives. More passengers died in the loss of the Empress than on the Titanic a couple of years earlier.”

Still, the prosecutor looked disbelieving.

“Young Brian Fillmore’s fascination grew as he grew. He learned of a survivor, Aldous Clybourne, the crew member in charge of the mail room. He also learned that Clybourne’s uncle was the Receiver of Wrecks, responsible for maritime salvage. The Receiver, for reasons that beggar belief, stopped the recovery of bodies in order to bring up the mail from the Empress.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Why would he do that? Fillmore became more and more obsessed. What was in the mail that was so important?”

Now Maître Lebel was practically crawling across the desk to get at the answer.

Gamache walked him through their realization that in the hold of the Empress was almost certainly Miss Wolcott’s research. That she’d donated it, along with one of her man’s suits, to Macdonald College, an offshoot of McGill University, in Montréal. The agricultural campus.

“A botany professor desperate for tenure found her research and was taking it to London, to present to the Royal Society of Botanists as his own. The thinking is he shot off his mouth that evening on the ship about how important his documents were, and, by extension, how important he was. Clybourne heard, and after the sinking, which claimed the life of the professor, he and his uncle had those documents brought up from the wreck.”

“So, you have them?” Bernard Lebel’s eyes were bright.

“No. As you know, Fillmore’s body was found on a grave in Lost Nation with the date of the sinking etched into the headstone. A grave that clearly was different from all the others. We figured that Clybourne and his uncle must have buried what they’d found, along with an incriminating ledger. To be kept safe until the inquiry and scrutiny died down. But both were killed before they could dig it up.”

“But if Lost Nation was abandoned and forgotten, how did Fillmore even know about it?”

Here Gamache smiled. “Because of Morrow’s legitimate ledger. He’d scribbled in the margin the words Ghost in Lost Nation. I suspect he thought he was making the note in his second ledger, the one chronicling his illegal activities. He’d made an effort to erase the words, but they’re still legible. Barely. The words meant nothing to generations of Receivers of Wrecks who’d tried to decode what the crook had done. But they meant everything to Fillmore.”

“Miss Wolcott’s Ghost, and probably her research, was in Lost Nation.”

“Exactly. It must have taken Fillmore quite a while to find the place, but eventually he did. He brought Lagacé with him, thinking if they found Miss Wolcott’s research, he’d need an expert to understand it. I also think he was excited and wanted to share the find with someone who’d understand.”

“Not his brother?”

“No. While Charles tolerated his eccentricities and supported his brother, he did not share them.”

“So, where’s your proof Aimée Lagacé killed Brian Fillmore?”

“She had the ledger that was buried there. She reburied it in my garden—”

That brought a look of amusement, even pleasure, to the prosecutor’s face.

“—and tried to hide the fact. But her fingerprints were on it, as were Fillmore’s. We also found the shovel she used. She hid it in the shed belonging to Jeanette Bouchard’s mother.”

“Who’s Jeanette Bouchard?”

Once again, Gamache glanced at the unopened file containing his complete report and the synopsis. And sighed.

“She was an investigator working for Réunion. She was secretly hired by Lagacé to do research, with the promise of a big payday, but, in reality, to act as a scapegoat. As soon as she realized what Fillmore was onto, Lagacé began to plan the murder to steal the research. And what she needed was someone to set up, to blame it on.”

“But wait a minute. Why would Aimée Lagacé, one of the preeminent botanists in Québec, need to steal anyone’s research?”

“For money, perhaps. Preeminent or not, a professor does not get paid a great deal. This research could also propel her to the top of her field internationally, not just in Québec. And, well, it became clear that her rise had flatlined. While still a professor, she’d been overlooked to head the department. She hadn’t published anything important in a decade. And there were young, bright scientists at the Botanical Gardens and universities coming up quickly behind her. Like Professor Russell before her, she needed this research.”

“Okay, so she kills Fillmore, steals the research, and sets up this Jeanette, but of course Bouchard would protest her innocence. And even you might have seen through it.”

Gamache raised his brow at an insult so obvious, then smiled. He was beginning to suspect the Crown was pulling his chain.

“True. Even I might blunder into the truth. But the fact is, Jeanette Bouchard was not innocent. Now, follow me closely. Are you listening?”

“I’m hanging in, thank you.”