They’d cleared the Graves and were plowing through the waters, ever closer to the end of the journey.

He brought his hand back, to the book. And there it rested.

“Patron.”

Beauvoir wove across the unsteady floor like a cowboy just off a long trail ride. Myrna was behind him, lurching from bench to bench.

Gamache put the book back in his jacket just as Beauvoir arrived.

“The principal got back to us. He tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up.”

“The phone’s in my pocket,” said Gamache. “I didn’t hear it.”

“You asked where the asbestos in Massey’s studio was all found.”

“Yes. And?”

“They’ve sealed the room and are doing more tests but so far the asbestos seems concentrated in only one place.”

“The storeroom?” asked Gamache. “Where Massey probably kept No Man’s paintings.”

“No. It was at the back of the studio, on one of the paintings.”

Clara drew her brows together in concentration and some confusion. “But there was only one painting back there.” She paled. “I didn’t see it, but you did,” she said to Myrna.

Gamache felt his heart take a sudden leap, as though hit from behind. Reine-Marie had also seen that painting. Had stood close enough to appreciate it. To breathe it in.

“And it was covered in asbestos?” he demanded.

“Not covered. There were traces.” Beauvoir immediately understood the concern. “Only at the back. That science teacher was right. No Man put the asbestos where Massey would dislodge it when he handled the painting. But it wouldn’t be a danger to anyone else. It wasn’t in the air anymore. You couldn’t breathe it in.”

Gamache’s heart calmed while his mind picked up speed.

“That painting”—he turned to Clara—“it was the really good one, right?”

“I didn’t actually see it, but Myrna did.”

“It was wonderful,” Myrna confirmed. “Far better than the rest.”

“But it was painted by Professor Massey,” said Clara. “Not No Man. So how could it be infected?”

Gamache sat back on the bench, perplexed. It all fitted so well. Almost. If he just ignored that one question.

If Massey had painted that picture, how could No Man have put asbestos on it?

How had No Man gained access to it? And to asbestos, for that matter.

“We’re missing something,” said Gamache. “We’ve gone wrong somewhere.”

It was dinnertime, but the cooks didn’t dare put the ovens and stoves on, so they had sandwiches. And held on tight as the waves deepened and broadened. And as even the seasoned sailors’ faces grew strained.

The friends took their minds off the pitching ship by going over and over what they did know. The facts.

Peter’s trek across Europe. The Garden of Cosmic Speculation. The stone hare.

Beauvoir reached in his pocket and felt the rabbit’s foot, still there.