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“Right, but it meant nothing to me. You, Chief Inspector, used the term when you first contacted me. I had no idea what you meant. We all do it, and none more than scientists. We use abbreviations all the time, thinking everyone must understand. We live in an echo chamber. And so did Miss Wolcott. She thought she’d made clear what the plant could be used for when she named it.”

“Miss Wolcott’s Ghost?” said Clara.

“No, that’s what her neighbors called it,” said Gamache. “She didn’t.”

“The name she gave it is on the folly and in her documents. We just didn’t realize it,” said Professor Agrawal. “Eryngium mnemosyne.”

There was a silence. Even the bees and blackflies seemed to stop buzzing to listen.

“Okay,” said Reine-Marie. “If no one else is going to admit it, let me just say, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mnemosyne is the Greek goddess, the Titan, of memory,” said Professor Lamontagne.

“Of course she is,” muttered Jean-Guy. “So obvious.”

“So?” said Isabelle. Then her eyes opened wide. “Wait? What?”

She looked around the circle of faces.

The botanists were radiating excitement, practically vibrating. But the others were wide-eyed, open-mouthed. Stunned.

“Memory?” whispered Armand. “Dementia?”

Mustafa Agrawal nodded. “What she would have called senility, but yes. We’re not sure but we think so.”

“Everything else she described has been proven right,” said Lamontagne, jumping in. “From cancer treatments to stress relievers to diabetes medications and arthritis ointments. Professor Russell was right when he boasted on the ship that what he had with him was incredibly important. Worth a fortune. Any pharmaceutical company back then would have paid millions for Miss Wolcott’s research.”

“And made billions,” said Agrawal.

“And saved countless lives and suffering,” said Isabelle.

“Had anyone taken it seriously,” said Reine-Marie.

“They would have, had a man presented it,” said Isabelle.

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Agrawal. “But yes, Professor Russell certainly had a better chance of convincing his peers than Miss Wolcott ever did.”

“So, what happens now?” Armand asked.

“Now we propose a joint research project between Cambridge and Laval, to study Eryngium mnemosyne,” said Lamontagne.

“You’ll need to wait until after the trial,” said Gamache. “It’s still evidence.”

“Please make it as quick as possible, my mother…,” said Lamontagne.

Though they all knew it would take far too long to help her. But if it’s familial, Miss Wolcott’s Ghost might one day help the professor. And millions of others.

As the group left the garden, they paused to look at the spire.

“Her neighbors destroyed them all?” said Agrawal.

“Oui,” said Isabelle. “It was almost wiped out. The only seeds that survived the purge were in the pockets of the suit Miss Wolcott donated to the college.”

“Her neighbors thought she was attacking them,” said Reine-Marie.

“I was hanged for living alone / for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin.”

They turned to Professor Lamontagne, who was staring at Miss Wolcott’s Ghost, and quoting a poem those in Three Pines knew well.