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“Can you do something?” Armand asked, as the father of an inexplicably sick child asks the physician.

Aimée Lagacé looked worried. “Did you dig it up?”

“No, we didn’t dare,” said Isabelle.

“But the ground around it’s been disturbed.”

“We tried to stake it, but the stick wouldn’t go in,” Armand explained. “So we stopped. I think we might have done damage.”

“It’s not looking good,” agreed Dr. Lagacé. “I’m glad you called me. We need to cover it. The rain might not be helping. It might be drowning the roots. I need to take a closer look. Do you have some canvas? A tent maybe?”

Jean-Guy found a pup tent he and the kids sometimes slept in, pretending to be explorers in the wilds of the back garden. He cut away the floor and erected the tent around Miss Wolcott.

“There,” he said as he backed out, his knees muddy. “Now what?”

“Now I dig it up and make sure the roots are still intact.”

“Do you need help?” Armand asked. He held a trowel.

She took a close look at it and was relieved to see it was clean. They were telling the truth. No one had dug around the roots.

She patted the worn canvas satchel over her shoulder. “I have my own tools. Always bring them.”

“Should I go in with you?” said Jean-Guy.

“No. There’s only room for one.”

They watched as she got on her hands and knees and crawled into the small tent.

“What’re they doing?” demanded Ruth, craning her neck to see.

They were crowded around the large window in Myrna’s loft above the bookstore, looking across the village green. From there, they had a good view of the Gamaches’ back garden.

They each had a mug of strong tea or coffee, and Myrna had put out a spread of fruit, untouched, and breakfast pastries, almost gone.

“Dr. Lagacé has arrived,” reported Clara. “Jean-Guy’s put up a tent around Miss Wolcott’s Ghost.”

As Gabri snorted, croissant flakes drifted into the air and fell to the hardwood floor to be eaten by Henri. It still sounded ludicrous to him. A tent around a ghost. Phhht.

He walked back to the pastries.

“I hope the botanist can save it,” said Myrna, drifting away from the window, leaving only Reine-Marie there.

“Don’t you mean you hope you didn’t kill it?” said Ruth.

Dr. Lagacé backed out of the tent.

“There. I replanted it and made sure the roots were stable.” She looked around. “The rain seems to have let up. I think we can take down the tent. It’ll be happy for some sunlight.” She looked at her watch. “I have an appointment at the Botanical Gardens in an hour. I’m afraid I need to go. Call me if she doesn’t improve.”

“Before you go,” said Armand, “can you tell us what was wrong with it?”

“Its roots had locked themselves around a few large stones. I cleared them away and loosened the soil, then staked it up. It should be fine now.”

“So, it has nothing to do with the ledger you buried there?” said Chief Inspector Gamache.

While the others had pretty much lost interest, Reine-Marie stared transfixed.

“What’s going on?” said Ruth, having picked up on Reine-Marie’s tension.