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“To answer that, we needed to try to understand why Miss Wolcott did what she did. While she was determined that her papers, her life’s work, all her research should be preserved, she chose to sow only the one plant. What was it, is it, about Miss Wolcott’s Ghost that was so important? What made its survival so vital? What was its value?”

“And the answer?”

“We had no idea.”

“Oh, for Chrissake.” Lebel threw himself back in his chair.

Armand felt a small frisson of pleasure at taunting this annoying man.

“For that, we needed an experienced and respected botanist. And, as you pointed out, they do not come more respected than Dr. Lagacé.”

As Gamache leaned forward, so did Lebel, so that they formed a tête-à-tête.

“If we needed a prominent botanist, then it seemed reasonable to assume that Brian Fillmore did too. He was also after Miss Wolcott’s research, and like us, he knew he could never properly interpret it. He needed help. And for that, he too would turn to Dr. Lagacé.”

“But he could have called in anyone.”

“Yes. But he didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the first time Dr. Lagacé saw the plant, even from a distance, she knew what it was. She named it. I didn’t appreciate how important, and frankly unlikely, that was at the time. This was a plant no living person had seen, a plant no one had thought of in decades. So how could Dr. Lagacé identify it so quickly? The only way she could know it was Miss Wolcott’s Ghost was if she too had been looking for it. The only other person looking for Miss Wolcott’s collection was Brian Fillmore, the dead man. They must have been working together.”

“Okay, that tracks. But why was he looking for it?”

You’d know the answer if you read my synopsis, you lazy— But Armand resisted the impulse to say it.

“I think Fillmore was asking the same questions we were. Why, of all the plants she’d collected, would Miss Wolcott choose to spread just the one? To in effect place it alone in the ark. What was its purpose? Was it toxic? Invasive? Was it maybe beneficial? Either way, Miss Wolcott thought it worth saving. Fillmore shared with Miss Wolcott one overriding quality. Curiosity. He just wanted to know. To solve a century-old mystery. The more we got to know Monsieur Fillmore, the more it became clear that his definition of value and most other people’s were vastly different. He thought in terms of intellectual, historical value. Others thought in terms of monetary, and even power.”

“How could an old seed be considered powerful?” asked the prosecutor, now completely engaged.

“If Miss Wolcott’s Ghost was that aggressive, that invasive, its value would be as a weapon. A bioweapon. Something some states, and enemies of the state, terrorists, would pay a fortune to possess. It would be just as destructive today as a hundred years ago. Imagine if, instead of dropping bombs on an enemy, you just dropped seeds. They would destroy crops, disrupt the food chain, and lead within a year or two to famine, starvation. Just the threat of it would be enough to bring a nation to its knees.”

The prosecutor had gone pale. “Is that what’s appeared here? Something that can destroy Québec’s crops? Our farms? That could spread…” His eyes widened as he imagined a plant plague.

“We’ve contained it.”

“Are you sure?”

He was tempted to say “pretty sure,” but decided that would be cruel. “Yes.”

The Crown Prosecutor stared at the Chief Inspector, then nodded. “Bon. But why would Monsieur Fillmore even be looking for Miss Wolcott’s collection?”

How to explain? It was vital the prosecutor understood.

“As with most murders we investigate, we start at the end and work backward. But Brian Fillmore started closer to the beginning and worked forward.”

“The beginning being Daisy Wolcott.”

“Well, for him, it was something else. This murder began with the sinking of the Empress of Ireland.”

“The what?”

It no longer came as a surprise to Armand that the mention of the tragedy was met with a blank stare. But it still astonished him, until he remembered that was exactly his own expression when he’d first heard about it.

How could he not have known?

“A ship. As a child, Fillmore heard about the sinking of the great passenger liner. How it went down in the St. Lawrence, within sight of land, in fourteen minutes—”