And the actual biblical quote was “By the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept.” We sat down, not she. It was a misquote. But Fleming knew the Bible, so it must’ve been done on purpose. With a purpose. Gamache remembered Fleming caressing the play with that one finger. But he wasn’t just touching the script, he was stroking the words of the title when he’d said, “You have no idea why I wrote this, do you? If you did, you wouldn’t need to be here.”

“This” wasn’t the play, it was the title.

She Sat Down and Wept.

Gamache forced himself to sit in the armchair, the play on his lap. Olivier, Gabri and Rosenblatt stared at him.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Gabri demanded. “Have you just given up?”

“Shhh,” said Olivier. “He is doing something. He’s thinking.”

“Ahhh,” said Gabri. “That’s what it looks like.”

What did it mean? Gamache asked himself, tuning out the rest of the world.

Fleming hid the plans, then he wrote the play. A play set in a fictional Three Pines. His eyes narrowed. There was one thing every character was looking for.

Milk. In the hardware store. They came there to find it. But it wasn’t there, of course. So where would you find it?

Gamache got up and walked to the door.

*   *   *

“My store?” asked Monsieur Béliveau. “You think he hid the plans in my store?”

“Where else do you find milk?” asked Beauvoir, walking to the window. Looking out, he saw Gamache standing at the bistro door, also looking toward Monsieur Béliveau’s general store.

But then Gamache turned away.

Jean-Guy followed the Chief’s gaze. Past Monsieur Béliveau’s store, past the village green, past the three tall pines, past Clara’s place to Jane’s home. At Jane Neal’s now-empty house, Gamache’s gaze paused.

Ruth’s best friend. Instead of recommending Jane for the artwork, she’d tossed Al Lepage into the pit.

“Ruth,” Jean-Guy asked. “After you spoke to Fleming, did you go over to your friend Jane’s place? Did you talk to her about this?”

*   *   *

Gamache turned from Jane’s home and looked directly across the village green, to Ruth’s place.

He saw movement in the window. Jean-Guy.

Ruth had wanted to see Beauvoir, urgently, but didn’t want anyone else to know why. That’s why she sent the message about Lysol.

Ruth.

Who’d saved herself by betraying someone else. Ruth. Who’d been forced to face a terrible truth. She was a coward.

She’d have turned in the Jews hiding in her attic.

She’d have named names to McCarthy.

She’d have pointed out heretics to the Inquisition, to avoid the flames and save herself.

And she’d almost certainly have looked at the crosses on a distant hill and whispered “Gethsemane” into a Roman ear.