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He replayed it.

Aldous and Mr. Morrow decided to make a headstone and put the stuff from the ship there. I had to clean up the mess. Mr. Morrow said they should also bury the ledger until it all blew over.

Make. Make a headstone. Not have one made. Not buy one. Make. There was a mess.

Armand rocked back and forth in his chair, considering. Thinking. Then he suddenly tipped forward and reached for his phone.

“Clara? It’s Armand. Tell me again what your mother-in-law said about the Morrow family, before Thomas made their fortune.”

“Hi, Armand.”

“Yes, yes. Hi. Now what did she say?”

“She said Thomas’s father designed estates.”

“Right. But there was something else, non?”

“No. That’s all she said. It was a lie, of course—”

“Thank you.” He hung up. He must have been mistaken. He’d thought there was more to it.

Then his phone rang. “Armand? Did you mean what Peter said?”

“Yes! Yes, that was it. What did he say?”

“Peter thought it was hysterical, how his mother twisted things to make it sound like the Morrows were landed gentry. He said that before Thomas stole the fortune, he’d worked with his father as a bricklayer. He built homes. He was a manual—”

“Merci, Clara!” He hung up on her again, and thought some more. Then he ferreted around in his notes, looking for the report on when they’d dug up the grave.

He hadn’t been there, but the judge was. Poor man. Afraid of his own shadow, Isabelle had reported. Though he’d eventually calmed down.

Gamache reached for his phone. “Isabelle, can you tell me again about the judge at the first exhumation? What did he do?”

“He watched.” She was clearly confused by not just his question, but his urgent tone.

“No, there was more. What did he say? What did he do? You told me but I’ve forgotten. It didn’t seem important.”

“Well…” She was clearly casting her mind back. It felt like a long time ago, even though it was just days. She closed her eyes, and recalled the memory. “While the scene of crime officers worked, he’d wandered the graveyard looking at the other tombstones. Then he came back and commented on the strange placement of the one where we were digging.”

“Right. It wasn’t facing east, like the others, but was placed haphazardly.”

“Exactly. He also noticed it was made of a different material.”

“That’s it. Thank you.”

Armand placed another call. “Your Honor? It’s Armand Gamache. Yes, fine, thank you. Oh, you heard about the arrest. Yes, I hope so too. Listen, I have a question for you. When we were exhuming, or thought we might be exhuming, something from that grave in Lost Nation, you became interested in the tombstone. Can you tell me why?”

Armand listened. Taking notes. “Thank you very much. Yes, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He hung up before the judge could say his goodbyes.

On the notepad in front of him, Armand had written, “Concrete. And circled it. Many times.

Concrete.

CHAPTER 65

A tarpaulin was spread on the grass in the Gamaches’ back garden, and on it stood a gravestone.