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“Well, a shovel would help and maybe some compost. I can take it from here. You obviously have more important things to do than nursemaid a plant. That’s what I do.”
“Merci. I’d like to know more about the plant, especially how it came to be extinct and why it might be here.”
“I’ll see what I can find out for you. Ahhh, merci.” She took the shovel from Jean-Guy, who pointed to the compost bin.
Armand had spotted Reine-Marie on the terrace and needed to speak with her. But first he wanted to get to the Incident Room, to check up on a few things. Dr. Lagacé watched them walk across the attractive village green, then she placed her satchel on the ground and started to dig.
Agent Ferdinand was still in the Old Train Station, working away at a computer. He jumped up and saluted as soon as he saw the Chief Inspector.
“I hear you recognized one of the names on the list,” said the Chief. “Fillmore.”
“Oui, patron. But I might have been wrong. Apparently the fellow who came here isn’t the same one.”
“Who did you think it was?”
“The CEO of a company called Réunion.” He brought the site up. “It researches genealogy and organizes tours to meet long-lost relatives.”
“Huh.” Armand frowned. It sounded like what Clara’s cousin had done. Reunited. Had he used the service? The Chief Inspector looked over the agent’s shoulder at the photo of the founder on the screen. “I see the problem. The Brian Fillmore who visited was younger. This man looks to be in his late sixties. Father maybe?”
“No, his bio says he never had children, which was what got him interested in creating a service to unite extended families. If he wanted to find family, maybe others would too. The only thing is, sir, there’s a conspiracy theory that this Brian Fillmore”—he pointed to the screen—“is missing.”
Armand straightened up. “Is that so?”
“I’ll call,” said Jean-Guy.
The early-afternoon sun was streaming through the leaded windows and onto the concrete floor of what had once been the waiting room of the train station. Armand could not be in that space without imagining, almost seeing, all those people milling about. Waiting there. For trains. For passengers. For family.
Waiting to be reunited with loved ones, some returning from a distant conflict. The place, the vaulted space, was filled with that wait. That pause. That moment suspended between hope and reality. Between facts and feelings.
On this day, the old station smelled of coffee and a slight hint of oil from the big red fire truck. It was a strange combination of comfort scents.
He heard Jean-Guy asking to speak to Brian Fillmore. Pausing. Asking for his assistant, then. He did not identify himself. It was always a delicate dance. When to alert people that the Sûreté was showing interest …
“Can you ask Monsieur Fillmore to call me back?” He hung up and turned to Gamache. “Brian Fillmore isn’t in. Traveling apparently. But he has a brother, Charles. I left a message.”
Armand looked out the window to the gathering on the terrace.
“Anyone want a cold drink and a sandwich?”
CHAPTER 18
Armand kissed his wife, then scanned the article she’d handed him from the local archives.
“Merci.”
Olivier had brought out a tray of drinks for them, carefully placing a lemonade in front of his partner—“For you, my love”—with a smile that could only be described as sinister.
Armand handed the article over to Jean-Guy and Isabelle, and asked Olivier for sandwiches.
When he returned with a platter piled high with croissant and baguette sandwiches, Armand said, “Can you join us?”
“What’s happening?”
“We need to hear about two of the people who visited Clara. Brian Fillmore and Jeanette Bouchard. Reine-Marie and I were away when they came down in March, so we didn’t meet them. Do any of you happen to have photographs of them?”
“We thought you’d ask,” said Myrna. “We’ve looked, but no.”
“Clara, do you think you can give us a sketch of each of them?” Isabelle asked.
