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“They remade Total Recall,” said Jean-Guy.

“Let it go,” said Armand gently. “You can still watch the original.”

The three of them stared at this remake and wondered. Why. Though the two Sûreté officers also wondered if, and how, this could have anything to do with the death of Patricia Godin.

“How did they get it up here?” asked Beauvoir, looking around.

“Billy and Olivier are going over the plans for the building and trying to work out the how,” said Gamache. The why would take longer.

“They’re down in the bookstore now,” said Myrna. “Looking at the ceiling. If it didn’t come through this wall, and obviously it didn’t, then it was either the roof or the ceiling.”

“But how could they have gotten it in here without you seeing?” asked Jean-Guy. “I mean, it would take a damned big hole to get that”—he gestured toward the painting—“in.”

“And it would take time,” said Gamache. “Were you away recently? I don’t remember you going anywhere.”

“Not recently, no. I went to Charlevoix with Clara, whale watching, for a week. When you were in Paris.”

“Did anyone stay here?” Gamache asked.

“No. Ruth offered to look after the store, but that didn’t seem like a good idea, so I just closed it.”

“And no work was done on the place while you were away? Renovations?”

“Olivier? Do improvements? Have you met the man?”

“Can you give us the dates?” Beauvoir asked.

She went to look up the days she and Clara were away, while Jean-Guy walked around the rest of the newly discovered room. “I’ll get the Scene of Crime team to fingerprint and swab the items.”

“Good. And we need everything moved to someplace secure.”

“I’m having the Old Train Station set up as an Incident Room.” Jean-Guy looked around. “But honestly, patron, I’m not sure how this relates to the death of Patricia Godin.”

“Neither am I. The only link is the letter.” And it was, they both knew, a flimsy link.

Myrna was coming back with the information, so they said no more about murder, preferring to keep that to themselves for now. Besides, they still needed proof it was murder.

Armand gave Jean-Guy the Stone letter along with the envelopes and Post-it. “I’ll make copies,” said Beauvoir, “and send the originals to the lab.”

When he left, Myrna said, “Something’s changed.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Come on, Armand. Jean-Guy’s here. You’re whispering. There’s activity at the Old Train Station. What’s happened? Is it something to do with—?” She jerked her head toward the hole in the wall.

“I can’t say yet. I’m sorry.”

Which was, they both knew, an answer in itself. As they made their way downstairs, she said, “I hear there was a dustup in the bistro today at lunch.”

He stopped and turned. “What do you mean?”

“Harriet told me that Sam Arsenault and the minister had words.”

“Robert Mongeau?” He couldn’t imagine the minister getting into an argument with anyone. “What about?”

“You.”

“Moi?”