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Chief Inspector Tardiff looked exhausted. Her hair needed a wash, her clothing was rumpled. Here was a once soignée woman near the breaking point. With energy enough to focus on only one thing. And personal hygiene was not it.

Now she ran her hands through her hair so that it stood on end.

“I read your report of the Castonguay murder in this morning’s briefing notes, Armand. You were vague about it being a mafia hit. Thank you for that. I don’t need the Super coming down on me, as though it was my fault. It’s now obvious that Moretti’s keeping things from me.”

“What do you need from me?”

“I got a message from him today telling me to find out what the Sûreté knows about the Castonguay murder. You need to give me something. More than what was in your report. What was the kid looking for way up there?”

“We think it was Charles’s laptop and maybe a map.”

It was safe to let that much out since Moretti must know something was hidden up there. Why else send hitmen with Castonguay, and execute him when it couldn’t be found?

Still, he wasn’t going to tell Tardiff that they had both. He couldn’t risk her telling Moretti.

“Why did Frederick Castonguay think they were there?” asked Tardiff.

“He and Langlois were old friends. Went to school together. Langlois must’ve told Castonguay to look at that lake.”

Tardiff nodded, thinking. “Good, this is good. I can give this to Moretti.”

“I’m a little worried that whoever went up there with him actually found it,” said Gamache, feeling absolutely no discomfort at misleading his colleague.

Evelyn Tardiff was shaking her head. “Non. Moretti would’ve told me.”

“Are you so sure? You just said he’s holding information back. Maybe this’s part of the test. To see what you’ll pass along, when he already knows the answer.”

Now she was considering. “Maybe. It would be like him.”

“Or maybe whoever went up with Castonguay is playing a lone hand.” Gamache watched her closely.

“Who?”

When Gamache didn’t answer, she said, “It’s possible it was made to look like a mob hit, but wasn’t.”

“But if it was?”

She turned in the pew to look at him. “Are you saying the New York mob sent their own people? Behind Moretti’s back? That would be a declaration of war.”

“Is it possible?”

Tardiff thought about it. “A few months ago I’d have said no, but Moretti’s ambitious. The Five Families won’t want him getting too powerful. With the recent arrests of Gambino associates, others are moving in. The Bonanno family in particular. They see their chance.” Now she was essentially talking to herself. “If Moretti was looking to grab more territory, this would be the time. Maybe they want to cut him off at the knees.”

With the mafia that was not simply an expression.

“And maybe Moretti knows it,” said Gamache. “Could that be the war we’re hearing about? The invasion? Not from the Canadian military, but an attempt by Moretti to take over the Five Families before they get him?”

She shook her head. “I can’t see it. More likely the other way around. But even that’s unlikely. Why would they?”

“Why would the mob want more control?” asked Armand, with a smile.

“You have no idea what the mob wants,” she snapped. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. You watch The Godfather or Goodfellas or Omertà and think you know. You know shit.”

“Then tell me. What’s going on? I told you about the laptop and the map. Now you have to give me something.”

“Okay, you’re right. It’s just possible Moretti isn’t telling me anything about Castonguay’s murder because he doesn’t know.”

“So you do think the New York crime families came onto Moretti’s territory and killed Frederick, without his permission,” said Gamache.