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“I have no idea. That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Is there another tape?” asked Clara.
Patrice shook her head. “I looked. There’s only one oral history recording of Flossy Fuller. And I didn’t find anything else in the written archives. Just that.” She pointed to the empty dossier.
“There must be another one,” said Ruth. “No one hears someone say ‘And then there was the murder’ and calls it a day.”
“I agree,” said Gamache. “Do you mind going back to the archives and having a closer look? Whoever conducted the interview must have asked.”
“You would have thought,” agreed Patrice. “I’ll look.”
But again, how could an old murder have anything to do with the body in Lost Nation today?
“Pardon.” He took his phone out and walked a few paces away, placing a call.
“Fortin? Gamache. I need information on a murder in an area called Pleasant Valley, in the Eastern Townships. It was also known as Lost Nation. Oui. Lost Nation.” He had to spell it. “No, I don’t know when. Not recent, though. Before 1967. Could have been much earlier.” He listened, nodding. “Voilà. Get back to me when you can.” Then he had a thought. “Can you also look into a Flossy, probably Florence, Fuller. She was in her nineties in the mid-1960s. Anything you can find, yes.”
Reine-Marie had joined him.
“What are you thinking?” she asked as he hung up.
“I’m wondering why there isn’t a second tape.”
“And?”
He smiled at her. “And you can guess where my thoughts go.”
Where else would the head of homicide’s mind go but to homicide? Why hadn’t Flossy Fuller finished her story?
He then checked the text from Jean-Guy and replied.
“We can take you to where the plants are growing,” said Jean-Guy, putting his phone into his pocket.
“Oh, good.”
Isabelle was pretty sure the botanist almost said “goodie.” She seemed as thrilled as a child at a party who’d been promised cake and ice cream.
Once outside, they met up with Armand, who introduced himself.
“Ahhh,” said Dr. Lagacé. “Homicide.”
“Oui. Thank you for coming. The plant might not be vital to the investigation, but it is a curiosity, and we like to put those to bed.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I am very curious about your curiosity and will try to solve this one little mystery for you.” She looked around. “Is it…”
“Not far. We’ll drive you there.” He looked at her feet and was happy to see sturdy boots.
CHAPTER 15
“What’re you doing here?”
Agent Ferdinand almost jumped out of his skin.
“Where’re the others?” An impossibly old woman was standing under a framed photo. Of herself.
The only difference between the woman in the photo and the one in the room was the duck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
