About this e-book

For Genie and her great-great-aunt Adriana, their visit to Taverner Castle is a fairytale come true. To make their trip perfect, it also comes with the chance to track down Adriana’s missing necklace. For a ghost connected to her earthly possessions, this opportunity means everything.

Their search for the jewelry is cut short when a murder in a locked room spoils their Christmas and the two sleuths race against time to solve the crime and return to their own investigation. But with a slew of suspects within the ancient castle walls, Genie and Adriana have to prepare themselves for the worst or risk losing their chance – or even ending up haunting the castle together.

Imprint

Revised new edition February 2025

Copyright © 2025 dp books, an imprint of dp DIGITAL PUBLISHERS GmbH
Made in Stuttgart with ♥
All rights reserved

E-Book-ISBN: 978-1-91741-735-8

Cover design by Donna L Rogers

Copyright © 2024, Carmen Radtke
This is a revised new edition of Ghost Conquers the Castle previously published 2024 by Carmen Radtke.

Cover design: Emily Bähr
© Donna L Rogers
Editing: Fiona Leitch

E-book version Feb 27, 2025, 9:54:11 AM.

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Ghost Conquers the Castle

1

The luggage carousel looped around, eerily empty. Where there should’ve been my suitcase, I saw the conveyor belt do its circles with nothing on top. I didn’t care.

I’d made it alive to Scotland! We’d made it alive, as far as my companion could be considered that. Adriana Darling had officially died in 1929, but here we were in Scotland, standing at the not quite hallowed ground of Edinburgh Airport. In my hand I held my carry-on case which contained among bare necessities for myself an original brick from our family villa, an original Chanel evening dress, and a few other things formerly belonging to my great-great-aunt. Said relative now hopped onto the carousel, clapping with delight as she embarked on her circles.

“No,” I hissed before she disappeared inside the contraption.

My knees went weak. This had felt like the longest flight of my life. Adriana pouted.

“I haven’t been allowed to have any fun for ages, Genie.” I rubbed my temples. Keeping a vivacious ghost in check during a flight from Boston to Edinburgh, without ending in the loony bin, took its toll.

I’d done my best to keep her away from the booze, and even crocheted a net shawl from a metallic thread. It served as a Faraday cage because as considerate and delightful as my great-great-aunt usually was, she also possessed certain powers over electricity, and sometimes she lost control over them. Literally.

It was one thing blowing fuses at home and the Darling villa in Cobblewood Cove which we’d shared since she had reappeared earlier this year. It was another thing to let her loose on an airliner.

I counted my lucky stars I didn’t have to include her on the documents they made us fill out before landing. The correct description would have been “Occupation: Spectral magnet for murder, mayhem, and mishaps”.

“You look worried, darling,” Matt said as he made his way back to my side, past the passengers from the next flight due to pick up their luggage from this very carousel.

I hoped they had more luck, as I motioned Adriana to come with me to meet him halfway.

Matt Blake, art and museum security expert extraordinaire, dedicated boyfriend, and the reason Adriana and I were here at all, had checked with the airline staff that my suitcase had really gone on vacation without me. Alas, it had.

“We’ll sort this out,” he said. A comforting smile crinkled his dark eyes.

“I’m sure he will.” Adriana fluttered her lashes at him. Although only I could see her, Matt had always felt comfortable in her presence. A warm, fuzzy feeling, that’s how he described it.

While it had taken me a few months into our relationship to come clean and confide that I kind of came as a double pack with an eternally 21-year-old flapper oozing old movie star glamour, he’d taken it pretty well.

“Do they know where my wayward luggage is?” I asked hopefully.

“Amsterdam. I’ve been promised it will be back in your hands tomorrow, or it will be once we’ve picked it up. That’s the important question for now. Do you want to stay in Edinburgh for one night or shall we press on and improvise a little, style-wise?”

I gazed around. So did Adriana, with wide-eyed wonder. As small as Edinburgh Airport was, it held a surprisingly large array of all things Scottish, including a whiskey shop, one with coats of arms and kilts, and the promises of castle tours – and one featuring ghosts, which I hoped Adriana had overlooked.

Small Christmas trees adorned most shops and I’d been told the Christmas market in Edinburgh was among the most popular on the British Isles. As tempting as it sounded, it also guaranteed crowds, which were never a good idea in connection with my great-great-aunt.

Keeping an eye on an excitable ghost was not an easy feat at the best of times. Even in familiar surroundings in our small town between Boston and New York I’d dealt with my share of surprises. Letting her roam around a large or at least larger city was not on my agenda.

“We’ll proceed as planned,” I said. “At least we will after I’ve taken care of a few emergency purchases.”

Since I only needed a few garments to tide me over until my errant luggage caught up with me, I resisted the temptation to go onto the city centre with Princes Street and all the shops I’d only read about. Instead, I asked Matt to enquire at the car rental desk about the nearest shopping mall. I figured a change of clothes or two would do well enough. Also, it would offer less temptation for my lovely relative. In a mall there had to be a cozy coffee shop where I’d bribe her to stay with Matt. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t the smartest plan. She might flit off without him noticing as soon as she spotted a dog or another animal.

Taking her along as a shopping advisor involved taking the carry-on suitcase with the brick to fuel her spectral life-force so far from her birthplace, but that was a small price to pay.

Matt had reserved a Range Rover for the journey north. He stowed away his luggage, which had arrived safely in in its entirety, in the boot. I stuck out my bottom lip. Okay, he’d only brought two small suitcases, but it still wasn’t fair. Amsterdam! I only hoped the airline staff kept their promise to send my belongings from the Netherlands on to Scotland on the next plane.

Adriana draped herself against the car and mustered me. “I’ll make sure that you won’t look like a scarecrow. We don’t want to frighten him away.”

I glared at her, stung by both her dismissal of my personal charms and my fashion sense. We couldn’t all look like an early movie star, from her wavy golden hair and creamy complexion to her slinky evening frock. She’d worn the silk dress the night that had led to her untimely demise. Its material counterpart lay in my carry-on case, wrapped in half a dozen layers of tissue paper.

She heaved a tolerant sigh. “Have you looked around?” she asked pointedly.

I had to admit I’d seen more fashionable displays than the trickle of people in slogan T-shirts, sweatpants and the occasional bare midriff, heading towards their rentals. I wondered if any of them had bothered to check out the weather forecast for Scotland at Christmas time.

At least Matt and I were dressed appropriately in jeans and sweaters.

Matt steered the Land Rover with reassuring ease towards our destination.

For once Adriana had fallen quiet. I used the rearview mirror to check on her. She pressed her nose against the window and drank in the sights. So did I. Scotland had pull out all the stops to impress today.

Blue skies, distant hills, and houses straight out of a period movie greeted us after all the hours spent sealed into the airplane cabin.

A happy glow spread through me. What was a small mishap with my suitcase compared to all the excitement that lay ahead?

At the mall, I hurried to make my selection. With only a short delay until I’d be reunited with my jeans, sweaters, and elegant dresses I’d packed for the momentous trip, a pair of black slacks, a top and a cardigan should do.

When I looked at the price tags of the pieces I coveted, I gulped and resigned myself to look like the poor cousin for a bit, until Adriana swooped in to save me, or at least my pride, and my bank account as well.

I couldn’t complain about money since starting a gelato business alongside my jewelry design, but I had no intention on depleting my funds unnecessarily. My great-great-aunt came with unexpected expenses, although she more than made up for it. Adriana’s nose was the secret behind my success as an ice-cream maker.

“Try this,” she urged. She’d discovered a cashmere twin-set in a rich scarlet hue, which had the additional appeal of being in my size and heavily reduced.

“Where’s the catch?” I asked the sales assistant.

“There’s a wee tear.” She showed me a rough spot at the back of the top. It needed eagle eyes to spot the flaw.

Her voice had that soft, Scottish lilt Adriana swooned over. I heard her practicing it right now, repeating every word. I couldn’t blame her, because I liked it too. It had such a warm, reassuring quality to it.

With my purchases completed, we set off again. Towns gave way to heather and woodlands, and, in the background, craggy hills. The blue sky changed to leaden, and the first snowflakes settled on the windshield. I rolled down the window in inches to breathe in the heady air that held the promise of more snow and the tantalizing idea of a white Christmas.

Birds of prey wheeled overhead, until the flurry became a thick curtain of fat flakes, hiding any bird life from view.

Our progress was slower than I had expected, and I kept my fingers crossed that we would reach our destination before darkness swallowed everything.

“Isn’t it romantic?” Adriana whispered. “Can’t you just see Bonnie Prince Charlie fleeing in weather like this, accompanied by his trusted helpmate?”

“When he was disguised as Betty Burke, you mean?” I asked, my voice almost imperceptible. Adriana’s hearing rivaled that of a bat, and I didn’t want to distract Matt while he navigated remote gravel roads treacherously slick with ice. Also, the volume I used gave him a hint, whether I was actually talking to him or conversing with my lovely relative.

Snow crunched under our tires as we crossed small stone bridges and navigated narrow corners that sent my adrenaline soaring.

The Scottish Highlands were a place of beauty, but they also held considerable dangers, especially now that our headlights were the only source of illumination left. I’d expected street lamps, and maybe a few small towns offering lights, but I’d been wrong.

I hadn’t noticed how tightly I had clenched my hands until I painfully felt my nails dig into my palms.

“Almost there,” Matt said with a reassuring grin.

He was right.

After what had seemed like an eternity driving through the snow drift mixed with inky darkness, we pulled up outside an impressive stone wall. Cast-iron lanterns illuminated what must be a moat.

Behind it, lights shone through the windows of a castle straight out of the storybooks.

We had reached our destination.

2

Right on cue, the snowfall stopped, the clouds parted, and a sliver of a moonlight fell upon Adriana‘s head as she floated out of the car. It crowned her hair with a halo.

All that was missing was a trumpet fanfare or a plaintive bagpipe solo to welcome her in style.

“Genie, look,” she said with an awestruck expression. “They even have a portcullis.”

I nodded at my great-great-aunt. She’d studied Scottish history and folklore since the momentous occasion we had received the invitation to Castle Taverner, so I trusted her authority on all things Highland without a question.

We climbed up stone steps. I reached out to ring the brass bell but before I could, the heavy wooden door swung open, as if by itself.

A slender man whose silver hair and composed features would have guaranteed him constant demand on a movie set, glided towards us. Not the lord, I surmised, judging by the slight bow he gave us.

“Mr. Blake and Ms. Darling, I presume? I’m Parkins, his Lordship’s butler. Please allow me.” He reached for my carry-on.

“I can take care of it, thank you.” I flashed him a winning smile as I held onto the precious piece of luggage. I couldn’t tell if my refusal stung him as he led us into the hallway, or if the raised eyebrow was aimed at the eccentricities of Americans.

Instead, he hurried to relieve Matt of his suitcases.

I shook my head at my boyfriend. Surely Parkins was a little advanced in age to do all the heavy lifting, especially up the slightly slippery staircase. I needn’t have worried. Matt relinquished only one suitcase to the butler. His expertise as a guest in grand houses was more extensive than mine, I remembered. A lot more. Although I’d traveled and visited castles before, this was my first overnight stay as a guest of the aristocracy.

We stepped into a grand hall, with ceilings high enough to rival a small cathedral, and cornicing running around it. The color scheme reflected the setting, with dark green, reds, and black wood. Doors on the left led to the kitchen wing.

Parkins took us up two flights on a sweeping staircase, flanked on both sides by suits of armor.

I tapped my fingers on my leg. To an uninformed observer it must look like a nervous habit. To those in the know, aka Adriana and myself, the tapping spelled out messages in morse code. We’d spent months perfecting this system.

Until then, I’d come close to being labelled the town eccentric, because I seemed to talk to myself every so often.

Now I tapped, “Don’t think of it.” I knew my great-great-aunt well enough to realize that she’d love to slip inside a suit of armor and live out her fantasies.

Our climb ended on the second floor, where the living accommodations were located. Parkins showed first me and then Matt to his room. We exchanged a wry grimace. As much as I'd have loved to spend some serious quality time with my boyfriend in these lavish surroundings, we’d reluctantly agreed to sleeping apart. It seemed the best option, considering I shared with my great-great-aunt, and it also appeared to be the accustomed fashion among the upper class guests in the castle. Probably so the ladies wouldn’t have to suffer loud snores from their partners.

Parkins said, “The ladies’ bathroom is next to you, Ms. Darling. The gentlemen’s bathroom is on the other side, at the end of the corridor. I assume you’ll want to freshen up. The gong will summon you for cocktails.”

Adriana licked her lips. I shot her a dark glance. After all, we were here on a mission. I couldn’t afford to alienate our hosts with the crazy behavior that followed with certainty if this ghost sniffed alcohol fumes. Swinging from chandeliers featured high on her list, and this place held more than enough opportunities to give in to temptation.

Matt and Parkins left, and Adriana flung herself onto the four-poster bed. The rest of the furnishings consisted of art deco pieces, with a shell-shaped settee, matching wallpaper, and a geometrical mirror above the dresser. My great-great-aunt fit right in.

The complete room was splendid. A radiator explained why the fireplace was unlit.

“Aye, lassie, this is heaven,” she drawled in an attempt to sound as Scottish as a born and bred - and died - New Englander could.

I'd have loved to have joined her for a quick nap but instead I grabbed my wash bag and headed for the bathroom. For modern standards this castle, as romantic as it was, was slightly lacking in amenities.

I assumed Lord and Lady Taverner had an en-suite bathroom, but the family would be the only ones. Adriana had treated me to long lectures about the clever ways that many of the remaining castles in Scotland had been modernized in the 1920s – her own heydays - without losing too much character.

Since the last five or so generations of Taverners spent most of the year in their house in London or in their villa in Italy, the castle hadn’t been updated since then.

I traipsed along a flagstone corridor made cheerful by strategically placed woolen rugs in shades of gold and silver. The ladies’ bathroom smelled of vanilla and a few other things I couldn’t identify. A row of scented candles lined a shelf attached to the wall within easy reach of the claw foot tub. No doubt they were the source of the calming scent.

I peered through a small sash window. Moonlight cast feeble fingers over an endless expanse of white. The snow must be at least a foot deep, I guessed. Perfect for romantic walks, hand in hand with Matt, if Adriana conceded us a few hours alone. Less perfect for travel. We’d arrived in the nick of time, if the forecast was to be believed.

I checked the time. It was past eight. A shower, or better still, a long soak using some of the bath salts provided for guests would have to wait.

Apart from a quick wash, brushing my hair and using a dab of lipstick, Lord and Lady Taverner had to take me as travel-worn as I was. My only concession was a change of clothes into my new garments.

I was still deciding how many buttons to close on the cardigan, when the gong rang.

Matt rapped on my door. “Ready, my lady?”

He’d changed into a correct dinner jacket and dress trousers, no doubt taking his cue from Parkins. I slipped my arm through his and held my head as high as I could without hurting my neck or falling down the stairs. I’d learned the hard way how easy these accidents happened, if I tried too hard to impress people with my nonchalance.

Adriana shimmied down the stairs, to imaginary music. Her dress glistened in the glow cast by the cleverly adjusted sconces. Where once candlelight, and then gas had lit the way for uncounted lords and ladies, ordinary electricity had long since replaced the romance of bygone eras. Yet the illusion remained. I had to look closely to notice switches in the wood paneling.

Portraits of what I assumed were Lord Taverner’s ancestors hung outside the grand living room and inside. Bewigged and powdered gentlemen and ladies gave way to the softer, but only slightly less ostentatious Regency period. As my gaze traveled towards a fireplace big enough to roast an ox, and the leather armchairs flanking it, I found myself face to face with a handsome bewhiskered gentleman and by his side, only a few inches of wall between them, the portrait of a beautiful redhead in Victorian dress. They both shared a glance of such intimacy that I wondered if the artist had made them share their sittings, despite painting them separately.

One thing I did not wonder about was the obvious fact that the Taverners had an endearing tendency to ignore the aristocratic habit of marrying for money or rank. Instead, they went for love matches.

One look at the current Lord and Lady Taverner, who’d risen to welcome us, confirmed my theory. And so did the final portrait, a photograph hanging above a grand piano.

“There she is,” Adriana said. “She’s older but I’d have recognized Betsy Grant everywhere.”

I decided I’d later study the likeness of the girl who’d grown up with little money in Cobblewood Cove, achieved a scholarship to Oxford, and there caught the eye of an aristocrat. We had to thank her for this invitation. Betsy had once benefitted from Darling generosity, and when Matt had enquired about the possibility that she had received a choker I desperately wanted to locate, for Adriana’s sake, they’d extended their small gathering with friends over Christmas to include us.

The current Lady Taverner held out both hands. “We’re so glad you arrived safe and sound. The roads can be tricky this time of year.”

I found myself involuntarily performing a small curtsy. “Thank you for your kind invitation, Lady Taverner.”

Her laughter tinkled in my ears. At first glance I’d put her around in her late 30s, but close up, fine lines made me up my first estimation by a decade. Whatever age, she’d always be beautiful with her gold-flecked, hazel eyes, auburn bobbed hair, and a smile that lit up her whole face. She’d opted for tailored pants and a cashmere twin-set not unlike my own.

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. At least I wasn't seriously underdressed.

At least that's what I thought until I saw the other two women in the room, both dressed in velvet and satin dresses, respectively. A tiny voice in my head told me that more sensible clothes like mine and Lady Taverner’s were better suited to a Highland castle with its inevitable chills. Although the walls were at least ten feet thick, and in some places three times as much, draughts could never be fully excluded.

“Let me introduce you to our friends,” Lady Taverner said.

“Everyone, these are our dear guests from the United States, Geneviève Darling and Matt Blake.”

“Call me Genie. Everybody does.”

“Very well. Genie.” She took me to the drinks cart that would have done any New York cocktail bar proud.

I signaled Adriana to stay away from it. I didn’t need to see her to sense her disappointment. Yet she was also as aware as I was how much first impressions mattered, especially in this case.

“What’s your poison?” Lord Taverner asked me.

Something cluttered to the ground.

I turned to see the woman in velvet pick up a cocktail spoon. “You startled me, Angus.”

“Sorry, Diana. Bad choice of words.” Lord Taverner did seem to mean it.

The woman held out her hand to me. “I’m Diana Tremayne, an old chum of the family.” She gave me a wan smile. Something about her delicate features with the pronounced widow’s peak and sapphire eyes was familiar.

“She was on the cover of one of the old magazines in our room.” Adriana gave her a critical once-over. “You want to get her to wear your new jewelry.”

I had to agree. My great-great-aunt had a much better business sense than I had. For now, the case with my latest creations was locked away in my missing suitcase, but once I had it back, I’d ask Diana, if we’d become friends by then.

I normally specialized in Art Deco and Egyptian Revival, but to pay homage to our trip (and curry favor, if necessary), I’d given earrings, pendants and bangles a Scottish twist.

“Didn’t you used to be a model?” I asked the lovely Diana.

She dimpled at me. “I was, until I decided that waking up at five in the morning, not eating and standing around for hours in the cold wasn’t worth it.”

“And this is Claire McIver.” Lady Taverner introduced the woman in satin to us. She lacked Diana’s fragile beauty, but if I ever needed the support of a no-nonsense woman who looked as ready to fight off an army of highwaymen as to organize a noble household with a single lifted finger, I’d choose her.

I mentally shook myself. Either I’d become as susceptible to the alcoholic fumes as Adriana, or the atmosphere triggered flights of fancy.

I pulled myself together as first Claire’s husband, Sir Douglas McIver, and then title-less Owen Ferguson, Diana’s partner, bent over my hand. The first was resplendent in dinner jacket and dress pants, like Matt. His dark hair showed a few strands of silver, which only added to his imposing appearance.

The latter had a ruddy, yet pleasant complexion, and he delighted Adriana by wearing a velvet jacket with a kilt.

When we all had a cocktail, or in my case, a ginger ale in our hands, Lord Taverner gave his wife a small nod. “I’m sure Caleb will join us in the dining room.” To my edification he added, “Caleb Cowper is another dear friend, who’s using this as a bit of a busman’s holiday. He’s one of our greatest authorities on the history of Scotland, and in particular the Highlands. You’ll either see him with a nose in a box of old documents, or roaming our countryside.”

“He tends to miss the cocktail hour, or the meals, when he’s on the trail of any obscure incident happening centuries ago.” Claire’s gaze flickered to Angus, who answered with a half-smile.

Adriana pressed her hands on her heart. “Do you think he’ll come dashing in, declaring he’s found a contender to the Scottish throne?”

She ignored the trivial fact that despite losing their independence, Scotland’s line of succession had been fought over, but never in doubt.

“It would be fun,” Adriana, ever the romantic, insisted. “I hope he’s not an old geezer. They’re all a bit long in the tooth here.”

The historian did not deserve that description, and neither did the rest of the company.

While a maid served a clear broth as first course, a second kilt-wearer slipped into the dining room, uttering his apologies. Caleb Cowper didn’t bother with explanations, though, but I thought I saw our host exchange a little smile with him.

“He’s a swell,” Adriana decided. I had to agree with her judgement. Next to Matt, Caleb was easily the best-looking man in the room, with dark hair and the broad shoulders of a man used to sports. His kilt showed what I took to be a few dog hairs, which might have inspired Adriana to pay him this compliment.

With five men and four women, not counting my faithful specter, the dinner round was imbalanced. This problem was solved by Lord Taverner sitting at the head of the table, with no one at the other end.

I found myself between Owen Ferguson and the latecomer. Since Owen was busy casting loving glances at Diana opposite me, and Matt appeared to be engaged in a lively discussion with our hostess, I concentrated on the food. Adriana had chosen to sashay around and inspect our surroundings.

The dining room held a couple of crossed pikes over the fireplace in which aromatic logs lay unlit, and paintings of landscapes and stags added to the traditional atmosphere. Gurgling radiators, William Morris wallpapers and matching carpet were still not hyper-modern, but sufficiently recent to promise a comfortable stay.

Caleb noticed my curiosity. “Are you interested in architecture?”

“I like history.”

He smiled at me. “You’ve come to the right place.”

“Scotland?”

“Not only the country. This castle and the family history are perfect examples of the changes in society, and expectations.”

McIver overheard us. He gave my seat neighbor an indulgent grin. “Better give the lady a safe word, if she decides he’s had her fill of the romance of the past, without all the details you’re no doubt already planning to spoil her with.” A wink took the sting out of his words.

“Fair enough,” Caleb agreed. “If you’d rather learn about the secrets of the stock market, Douglas McIver's your man. He’s a bigwig in the City.”

“You’re flattering me. I’m at the most a medium sized goldfish in a large pond," the bigwig responded.

“Or a bass?” Caleb suggested.

“I agree. They’re bigger and more aggressive.” Diana mimed pouncing. Douglas’s grin did not reach his eyes.

I changed the subject before we all started to compare each other to different animals. “I think I’ll stick to history. My accountant would agree that I’ve no head for numbers,” I confessed.

“Applesauce,” Adriana said. “You can do anything.”

I dipped my spoon into the soup.

“Not like this,” Caleb whispered into my ear. “You need to eat it backwards.”

I frowned, not understanding.

“You need to take the spoon and scoop gently away from you. Then you sip from the side of the spoon nearest to you.”

Adriana and I both watched in fascination as he demonstrated the technique. All around us, everyone else also ate their soup backwards, including Matt. He could’ve warned me, I thought.

It took a little concentration not to fall back into my own, plebeian eating habits. My great-great-aunt helped by hissing whenever my spoon wielding needed correction.

I started to enjoy myself. Maybe we could import upper class table manners. It beat the usual souvenirs like plaid scarves and capes.

“Is this your first visit to our wee country?” Caleb asked.

“Does it show?” I leant a little closer to him. “Is there anything I need to take into account for the next courses?”

“I don’t think so. Otherwise, just watch and copy. And, yes, I’d noticed your interest in the pikes.”

What he had spotted was my interest in keeping an eye on Adriana, but he received full marks for attention.

She’d left my side as soon as the soup had been cleared away, and with it the white wine. I made a mental note to praise her later for being on her best behavior, if she managed to keep resisting the drinks.

She inspected the fireplace.

“Do you use wood to heat the castle, Lady Taverner?” Matt asked our hostess.

“Sometimes. There’s nothing better than a crackling fire on cold winter nights, although we mostly rely on gas. And, please call us Tamsin and Angus.” Her swift smile encompassed me as well.

I returned her smile, only to find my mouth forming a gigantic yawn. The fight lasted all through the next course of roast beef with horseradish, sauce, roast potatoes and carrots. The heavy red wine that accompanied it didn’t help either.

“Jet lag?” our hostess asked with a sympathetic expression.

“I can’t sleep on a plane. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t add that I’d also been busy watching my great-great-aunt all the way across the Atlantic. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire.”

I caught Matt’s wistful gaze as I rose. I didn’t care about either. Matt understood that sometimes a certain lack of privacy had to be taken into account, apart from the fact that I was bone tired.

3

It was pitch dark when I woke up. I fumbled to find the light switch on the bedside lamp. It cast a dim glow. Eerie shadows appeared, created by the furniture. I looked around. I was alone in the room.

My breath stopped for a second as I threw off the heavy eiderdown and jumped out of the bed, only to stub my toe on my shoes. I’d flung them aside the night before. I’d barely been able to change into my pajamas before I dropped off into a heavy sleep. But I distinctly remembered my great-great-aunt curling up on the settee next to the fireplace.

“Adriana?” Where was she now? Surely, she wouldn’t have wandered off without me, not in a strange castle.

Although bit by bit we’d figured out how far she could go without me or stray from the brick that tethered her to the house, where she’d drawn both her first and her last breath, I did not believe that she would leave me here, at least not unless in an emergency situation.

“Adriana,” I called again.

“Right here.” Her head came out of the wardrobe, followed by her body.

I switched on the main light and pressed my hand on my chest, to calm my still racing heart. “You gave me a fright. Please don’t do that again.”

“I was looking for my stuff,” she said. “You were snoring all night long, so I thought I’d let you catch up on your beauty sleep and start without you.”

I refrained from answering to the aspersion on my nightly noises. “You could’ve waited until I was awake. I would’ve opened the wardrobe doors for you.”

“You need your rest if you want to dazzle Matt.”

I scrutinized her closely. She did not seem exhausted at all, although in keeping with the rest of the castle, the wardrobe was constructed of wood solid enough to have been used as building material for a war ship. It also seemed ancient, with intricate carving.

I’d have to ask Caleb about its history, I thought. It would be nice to surprise Adriana with my own tidbits of Scottish lore. I could have listened with her to the audiobooks, but that would have taken away her pleasure at lecturing me. Having a few separate interests also helped her feel more like an independent person and not just an extension of me. At least I reckoned it did.

“Did you find anything?” I asked my great-great-aunt.

“Not in the wardrobe, which really reeks of mothballs, but I’m sure there’s something in the castle. I can feel a buzz.”

That statement gave me a thrill. Ever since we’d discovered that Adriana was closely linked to all the things she’d owned during her short lifespan, we’d been on the hunt for them to improve her afterlife. Since the future Betsy Taverner had left Cobblewood Cove with a couple of suitcases full of donations from the Darling family who was grieving over the loss of their daughters, we had high hopes for our castle vacation. The missing necklace topped our list, but I’d gladly take anything.

I listened for signs of life in the corridors or other rooms. Everything was silent as a grave. Either people were still asleep, or the walls were too thick to let through any sound lower than the booming gong.

I peeked through the velvet curtains. Stars glittered in the sky. Far from the cities, they resembled diamond splinters on a blue-black tableau.

“It’ll be daylight soon, if you’re wondering,” Adriana said.

“Sure?”

“Can’t you see the lighter streaks, and how the stars dim?”

I narrowed my eyes to slits. “Maybe.”

“Trust me.”

I did. That posed me with the tricky question if I should risk disturbing anyone by sneaking to the bathroom or wait and risk being beaten by another early riser.

No wonder chamber pots used to be so popular.

I decided to test my luck and grabbed bathrobe and wash bag. “Can you come along and test if I can hear you talking in the corridor?”

Since only animals could hear Adriana apart from me, her hollering wouldn’t disturb anyone.

I saw her hesitate outside Matt’s door and gave her a firm shake of my head. We had an agreement when it came to where and when she was allowed to barge in. Watching my boyfriend slumber did not fall under permissible situations.

I slipped into the bathroom and thanked Lady Taverner – no, Tamsin – for her foresight to supply heavy felt slippers for her guests. The heated towel rail warmed the air to a bearable degree, but not enough to make the stone floor cozy, despite a rug. No wonder the Scottish nobles were renowned for their toughness throughout the centuries. This was Darwin’s survival of the fittest by architecture.

After I’d been unable to hear a peep from my great-great-aunt, I opened the door. “Can you tell me if you hear the water running?” I closed the door and opened the tap. The water gurgled gently in the pipes before it ran into the tub, steaming up the mirror.

I checked in with my aunt again.

“Nothing,” she said.

“That’s a relief.” I shook a generous dose of bath salts into the hot water.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll hurry,” I promised. As tempting as a long hot soak was, patience wasn’t Adriana’s strong suit. I didn’t want her to become bored and venture out, with no means of calling me for help if anything happened.

Simply because Adriana was the only ghost I’d ever met, that was no guarantee a Scottish castle which probably had seen its fair share of bloody history, was free of hauntings. While we were here, Adriana needed to stick to my side like glue, or at least stay in the safety of our bedroom.

I left the bathroom happy, clean, and, thanks to the bath salts, with the lingering scent of grass after a summer rain in my nose. The other guests stirred in their rooms as I joined Adriana.

Breakfast in the morning room was an informal affair, with a range of dishes kept warm on hot plates, with silver domes over them.

“Full Scottish breakfast for you?” Douglas McIver twinkled at me. Instead of his kilt he’d decided on a tweed jacket and flannels this morning, as had Caleb Cowper. They both shared the same taste in food, too. They'd opted for kedgeree, a dish imported from Anglo-India during the hight of the Empire, if I remembered correctly.

“Porridge will do for me.”

I settled on a chair by the radiator.

“You’re an early riser. Claire’s always among the last at breakfast.” His voice grew tender as he mentioned his wife.

I reached for the sugar bowl, to sprinkle a spoonful on top of my porridge.

Matt appeared behind me. I’d have recognized his step anywhere, as well as the scent of his aftershave. He pressed a kiss on my hair. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Into my hair, he murmured, “I assume she’s here with you?”

I nodded.

“Salt is more typical, or you might like to try a tiny sprinkle of salt and a bit of brown sugar on your oatmeal,” Angus Taverner said. “Caleb said you’re interested in our traditions.”

“Is that what brought you here?” Douglas enquired.

“That’s more a break from tradition. Without Genie’s family, none of us would be here,” Angus said.

“How intriguing,” Diana said as she strolled in with Claire.

“It’s one of the most romantic stories I’ve heard,” Tamsin agreed. “A young American student, with no money or connections, wins the heart of a peer’s son. It must have been incredibly difficult for her to put up with jealousy and snobbism.”

“I don’t think they ever regretted it, not for a moment.” Angus clasped his wife’s hand. “A bit like us.”

A shadow flitted over Claire’s face. Did I detect a hint of sadness? Yet she and Douglas seemed well matched.

“Where does your family come into it?” Diana addressed me. “Sorry if I’m nosy, but I’m a sucker for a good love story.”

“Betsy Grant came here as a scholarship student and with only a small purse. The Darlings gifted her a luxurious wardrobe, so when she met her future sister-in-law at Oxford, she could hold her own in society. If it hadn’t been for a Chanel evening gown, Betsy would have declined the invitation where she encountered the man she was destined to marry.”

Adriana glowed with pride. “She was a great gal, and Belle would have been so happy to hear this.” Belle had been Adriana’s older sister and the one who’d bought the dress in question as a present for her sister, before her return from a finishing school in Switzerland.

The dress now hung in my wardrobe upstairs. It had worked wonders for Betsy, and it still worked wonders for my great-great-aunt, ever since we’d located it in Italy, last spring. That adventure had also included several murders, a memory I liked less to dwell upon.

I added a few grains of salt to my porridge and sprinkled a generous dose of brown sugar on top.

“We’ve invited Genie to go through a few things to see if she can uncover any family heirlooms,” Angus said. “It would be a shame if anything valuable to the Darlings would be lost when we do the final clear-out.”

Adriana and I shared a puzzled gaze. Clear-out?

“You’re not selling, are you? After all these generations?” Diana wondered.

“Good heavens, no. Only, with our boys studying abroad and us spending so little time here, the castle holds more benefits for the locals if we turn it into a retreat for most of the year. As it is, we don’t contribute much. Owen's going to help us with the plans.”

"My company owns a few boutique hotels," Owen answered my unspoken question. "We take great care to preserve the period feel while adding all the modern bells and whistles."

“What about the estate?” Douglas asked.

“The grounds will be kept as they’ve always been.” Angus’s brow furrowed.

“I’d have thought you’d have been able to attract a lot of wealthy guests for the hunting season.”

“Never. As long as I have a say in it, there will be no hunts on our grounds. It’s bad enough that we still have to deal with the occasional poacher,” Angus said.

“At least there’s going to be one less. Caleb’s caught the worst of the lot red-handed, a few weeks ago. He’s due to give evidence at the start of the new year.” Tamsin reached for the coffeepot. “Would you like a refill, Genie?”

I accepted gratefully.

“Would you care for a walk?” Tamsin asked when I’d finished my breakfast. “Angus is going to claim Matt for an hour or two, and it’s lovely in the sunshine. It’s a pity Caleb’s busy. He knows every inch of the Highlands.”

“A walk sounds wonderful. That is, if you have a thick coat I can borrow? Otherwise, I’ll be stuck indoors until my luggage has caught up with me.”

“It hasn’t arrived yet,” Matt said. “I called the airline. They said to try again tonight.”

I grimaced.

Tamsin chuckled. “Black suitcase?”

“Navy blue.”

“I’ve had the same problem. It’s the color, the handlers can’t tell them apart in a rush. Don’t worry, we’ll sort out your wardrobe problems, and then Matt can pick up your stuff when he goes to Edinburgh tomorrow.”

I must have heard wrong. “You’re leaving?”

“I haven’t mentioned it yet. Angus asked me to have a peek at a gallery in the New Town. It’ll only take a couple of days.” He gave me an apologetic smile.

Adriana pouted. “This is supposed to be a holiday for all of us.”

I signaled her it was fine, despite sharing her disappointment. I’d envisaged romantic strolls with Matt through the snow, exploring the battlements and dungeons, and snuggling up by the fireside. On the other hand, he could hardly say no to our host, if I wanted to take home whatever treasures Adriana discovered.

I only prayed he’d be around to support me, should we manage to locate the most valuable missing piece of all.

When Adriana had materialized in the Darling villa, she’d worn the same earrings and silk evening gown she pranced around in now. What she hadn’t worn and what I’d been unable to track down so far was her favorite necklace. She’d rarely taken it off during her lifetime, so its disappearance had led me to two theories. Either, it was the missing piece that prevented her from crossing over to whatever realm awaited, after we’d solved the crime that in all probability had led to her waking up from the dead after close to a century. Or it was the link that led to the person responsible for her suspicious accident and subsequent death.

In both cases, finding the necklace might lead to her final departure. The thought was hard enough to bear, even with Matt by my side. Without him, I might crack.

Still, I hoped that Adriana’s mother, Rosalind, had simply given the necklace to Betsy. Then at least my murder theory would be weakened, and instead of making her depart from this earthy plane, the piece of jewelry might simply boost Adriana’s energy.

I sighed. I didn’t want to lose my great-great-aunt. Yes, she could be exasperating, and demanding, and she complicated my life, but she also was the most caring, and fun, and supportive person I’d met. Without her, my life would lose a big chunk of its meaning.

Yet it would be selfish to keep Adriana from finding closure. With only me and the animal world able to see her, she must be lonely whenever I was busy. We’d found a way for her to listen to audiobooks and to take small detours without me, but her afterlife revolved around my company. That was something, but in the long run, it wasn’t enough.

I sighed again.

Matt squeezed my hand. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“We’ll keep her entertained,” Tamsin said.

A ginger-haired maid crept into the room and bobbed a curtsy. “Excuse me, my lady, there’s a phone call for you, from the builders’.”

“A quick stroll in the snow, before I leave?” Matt asked me in a low voice.

I beamed at him. It had been too long since we’d been on our own. The rest of the company all gained points in my good book by staying indoors, so finally, Adriana and I found ourselves alone with Matt, trudging through the snow.

Matt held my hand, careful to protect me from stumbling. Adriana hung back a little, to give us space. I stopped and flung my arms around Matt. “This is the best moment so far.”

We stood in silence, until my feet got cold and Matt had to leave.

I didn’t feel like going inside yet. Instead, I stomped up and down, retracing my steps until the cold air numbed my cheeks and nose and the discomfort distracted me from missing Matt already.

Adriana peered at me. “You’ve still got me. It’s not the same but …”

“It’ll do.” I winked at her. “One last round?”

She floated off the ground. “What’s that?”

She pointed at the wall. “On the other side.”

I stood on my tiptoes to gaze over the structure. Was there a far-away figure darting through the tree stand?

“We’ve got company,” Adriana muttered. I slipped a little and pressed my hands against the rough stones for support.

“Careful”, Douglas warned, with a grim expression. “Accidents happen easily. Only a few days ago, a boulder came crashing down from a wall. It missed my head by an inch, or Claire would be a widow for the second time.”

4

I jumped away from the wall, scanning it with something akin to suspicion. It appeared solid enough.

“Not this one,” Douglas reassured me. “And, please, don’t mention it to my wife or her friend Diana. Claire would only worry.”

“You haven’t told her?” I paused. “I understand. Any more dangers I should be aware off?”

“Heavens, no. Castle Taverner is the safest place you can imagine. Far away from the hurly-burly. I’m only here to make sure you don’t stay out too long and catch cold. The breeze can be treacherous.”

Adriana and I turned around to inspect our current home away from home. As castles went, it was on the smaller side, built of grey stone slabs, with a newer wing for the servants of old, or modern day hired help, at one side. The bedrooms were on the upper floors.

The only part higher than that was the top floor with a watch tower and parapets running around the building. Arrow slits and spaces where lookouts would have cowered added to the romantic flair.

Angus or Caleb would be a good source for a tour indoors, I decided. I took great care not to slip again, with the moat only two feet or less away. The water wasn’t deep, but the ice crust did not instill any confidence. Especially in Adriana. She motioned me away from the edge with small, agitated motions unlike her usual elegant moves.

I mentally slapped myself. Adriana’s fatal illness had been caused by submersion in cold water.

Luckily, a distraction appeared. A large grey cat streaked across the snow. The second of the women who’d served us at dinner popped her head out of a side door. “I dinnae see him, Mrs. Brodie,” she called out.

“I’ll take care of it,” Adriana said.

I waved at the girl, who was a slightly plumper version of the ginger-haired one. I knew their names, Jenna and Oona, and hopefully I’ll soon be able to tell them apart. “Are you missing a cat?”

“Aye, Miss.”

“You stay where you are, and we’ll bring it to you.”

“A cat hunt?” Douglas frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go. I have a call scheduled soon.”

“That’s fine. We – I can take it from here.” I beamed at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” As pleasing as his manners were, certain things were easier done without an audience. That included pet rescue missions.

Adriana already crouched under a shrub, no doubt holding an important conversation with the cat. I hung back until Douglas was well on his way inside.

“The cook poured hot water on Marmaduke.” Adriana’s face took on a mutinous look.

“On purpose?”

“He didn’t stick around to find out. I think we should, before we return him.”

The cat meowed, and my great-great-aunt nodded. “He agrees. You can carry him.”

I didn’t spot any obvious injuries, but scooped him up, nevertheless. He nestled in my arms and meowed again. Adriana touched my hand. With the physical contact between us, the cat noise became words in my head. “That’s a wee bit wrong.”

“Wrong?” I turned to Adriana for a more detailed explanation. While she could act as a conduit between me and an animal, so we could talk to each other, her pet-whispering gift went far deeper than that. She actually understood them, and they understood her.

“Lift him so he can put his tail on your arm. The water hit him there.”

I followed her instructions. Marmaduke purred as he snuggled with me.

The maid must have peered out of the window, because she flung the door open as soon as were a few steps away.

“Marmaduke’s back, and he’s bonnie enough.”

Before I handed the cat over, I had to do my due diligence. “What happened?”

“Answer the lady,” a 40-something woman told the maid as Adriana and I ventured deeper into a cavernous kitchen.

“Aye, Mrs. Brodie. It was like this, Miss. We were preparing a pot of tea and when I was warming the pot, I pushed the kettle. Cook caught it, but we spilled a wee drop or two on poor Marmaduke.”

“Why was the door open?” Adriana asked. “If those two were trying to get rid of the cat, he’s staying with us.”

I repeated her question.

“We were just putting out the rubbish,” Mrs. Brodie said.

Because we had to be sure the cat was fine, I gave the tiniest of nods first towards the cat and then towards the housekeeper.

Adriana whispered in Marmaduke’s ear. He purred.

“It’s okay,” she told me.

I handed the cat over. The housekeeper nuzzled his fur. “Thank you, Miss.”

“My pleasure.” Adriana and I took our leave.

Inside, I took off the boots and borrowed coat in the mud room. My cheeks burnt after coming in from the cold. My head on the other hand felt cool and refreshed.

The short walk had also been useful for coming to terms with the painful fact that, again, Matt and I had much less couples' time together than anticipated. That was something we needed to work on, right after the New Year.

For now, I had a mission to fulfill with my trusty sidekick.

We discovered Tamsin in the large games room, not to be confused with the smaller room of the name. Half the castle had been converted in the great modernization, a century ago. Thus, it came as no surprise that the large space now holding a snooker table, card tables and a flat screen television once served as smoking room for the gentlemen where they withdrew after meals to discuss politics, smoke, and indulge in a snifter or two. No, I corrected myself, in Scotland they called it a wee dram, even if they poured half a pitcher of whiskey down their gullet.

Further than that, it had been part of the great hall that had taken up all the floor before being divided into two withdrawing, dining, morning and the two games rooms, plus a snug. Four fireplaces had once been used to heat the gigantic space. No wonder the lairds and lords had built their castles preferably on a hill, to keep watch on intruding enemies, and surrounded by enough woodland to burn half a forest over winter.

Tamsin arranged a vase of winter flowers on the tv cabinet.

Of all the rooms, this was the one falling a little flat on period charm. I didn’t see how it could be helped, though. It would have been tricky to hide cables and sound bars in the thick walls or the original woodpaneling. The fireplace now held a drinks cabinet, in another concession to our era.

Claire and Diana giggled over a society magazine.

Tamsin stepped back from her flowers. “That should do. What do you think, from a distance?” she asked me.

“Lovely,” I said. I had no clue what she expected.

She laughed. “Sorry, I should have told you I’ve been asked to take a few pictures if we want to market this as a retreat. Diana and Claire have graciously offered to act as models, if needed.”

“We’re searching for inspiration.” Diana tapped on the magazine.

“Good luck,” I said. “Can I help with anything? Or I could begin with my own search, so I don’t take up your time?”

“If you don’t mind? I’m afraid lots of old chests and boxes are strewn all over the place, from the garrett to the dungeons. I’ll ask Parkins to show you where to start,” Tamsin said.

I must have shown my surprise, because she laughed and said, “Don’t worry. The dungeons are perfectly clean and healthy. As far as I’m aware, the Taverners used them for storage and not as a prison. Horrible histories and spooky stories are big selling points for visitors, but not for us. If we ever had a ghostly sighting, it’s news to me.”

5

Adriana kept quiet as the butler led us down a flight of stone stairs worn from centuries of use. I gripped the railing. Most likely, my great-great-aunt had fallen silent because she respected the fact we were not alone. I hoped Tamsin’s comment wasn’t the reason. As much as I appreciated the idea of only ever having to deal with one ghost for the rest of my life, being the only one of your kind had its drawbacks too. Had Adriana set her heart on encountering another ghost?

For an instant I allowed myself the vision of me and Matt, all alone under a starry sky, while a handsome Cary-Grant-lookalike in kilt and sporran swept Adriana into his spectral arms. She deserved a little romance, and I was pretty sure that the idea of a noble lord in full Highland garb played a substantial part in her fascination with Scottish history.

“Be careful where you step, Miss,” Parkins warned me. “There’s a bit of a drop coming up.”

I peered at my feet. What the butler called a bit of a drop would have been more aptly named a bowl-shaped dip. It was at least two feet wide and covered two steps.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I couldn’t rightly say.” He clammed up.

“Curious,” Adriana muttered. She squatted to inspect the stone. “It looks so smooth but when you move closer, there are a couple of indents, shaped like horseshoes.” She floated up. “The English might have chased up Bonnie Prince Charlie all the way up from the dungeons to the tower.”

“On horseback?” I mouthed.

Parkins lifted an eyebrow in a manner he’d either copied from television or learned in butler school. “Pardon me?” For a man past his prime, his hearing was excellent.

I answered with my best imitation of his expression. “I must have been thinking aloud. The Highlands have such an exciting past.”

“Indeed. One does feel it even if one hasn’t been born and raised to the tunes of a piper.”

Adriana giggled. “He’s a hoot.”

“You’re not from around here?” We’d arrived in front of a wooden door that could have withstood a rampage or two.

Maybe it had.

“Born in Kent and raised in London, where his Lordship’s father took me into his household.” The butler selected an old-fashioned key from a key-ring the size of his fist. There ought to have been an ominous creak as he unlocked the door. Instead, it turned silently, and the hinges also offered no sound.

We found ourselves in a large room that fulfilled every idea I’d had of a centuries-old castle.

Here were old tapestries hung on one wall. Broadswords and pikes flanked another suit of armor, and the inside of the fireplace was blackened with age.

Helmets with full visor and a set of bagpipes took pride of place on a deep shelf, close to a chest that might have crossed the oceans with Drake’s ships. A kidney-shaped leather bag with a key-pad and an angled tube attached to one end stood out.

“What’s that?” I asked Parkins.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s an electronic bagpipe, given to Lord Taverner as a very expensive joke.”

To spare his feelings, I didn’t ask any further questions as I glanced around.

The rest of the furniture was newer, but still in keeping with the theme. Tartan throws and cushions offered protection against the small draught that I’d felt coming from the wall furthest north, close to the chest. Or the skylight in the middle of the tower room was the culprit.

“Your Lady Taverner had it installed, in 1935,” Parkins said as he noticed my interest. “She and her husband were both fond of stargazing, it’s said.”

A large telescope, astronomical maps and books on the subject pointed to the truth of his statement.

“Look at his sour face,” Adriana said. “I think it’s swell.”

“That must have been a huge enterprise,” I said. “Did they have to take down the whole roof?”

Horror fought with trained detachment before he answered. “It was deemed risky at the time and caused quite a stir among the gentry.” Parkins cleared his throat. “Lady Tamsin thinks you might find what you’re searching for in the wardrobe or the chests.”

He unhooked three keys from his ring and handed them over to me. “Once you’re finished, please return these to me.”

The chests were strategically placed against the three walls dedicated to heirlooms before Betsy’s time. The fourth wall held floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a large librarian’s ladder on wheels to reach the tomes on the upper shelves. Casual seating allowed undisturbed reading, and two desks sat ready for serious studies.

“Finally alone.” Adriana hopped up onto the mantelpiece, strategically placing herself between two candelabras. Angry clouds loomed on the horizon and darkened the skylight and with it, the tower room.

I switched on the light. Four chandeliers that had originally held real candles and now used candle-shaped bulbs offered enough illumination to read (or nose through a wardrobe), but it would take blazing sunshine to really brighten up this room.

For stargazers, this must be optimal conditions, though. With no light pollution from a city and with small windows in addition to the skylight, near darkness was easy to achieve.

For the guards once stationed up here, candlelight would have been enough as well. Too bright a light from the tower, and enemies would have been able to pick up their figures patroling along the parapet. Hails of arrows would have rained down on them, fired from longbows and crossbows similar to those Adriana had just discovered.

She poked an arrowhead. “Do you think this is blood?”

I inspected the object in question. There was a dark stain on the metal. “Rust, more likely.”

My great-great-aunt pouted. “Don’t you think our Highland lords would have fought in jousts and tournaments?” She flitted over to the suit of armor. “He’d have worn his lady’s colors, as he rode to win his king’s approval and her heart.”

“This castle might be a little too young to have seen medieval jousts.”

Her face fell.

“On second thought, the inhabitants would definitely have seen battles, and probably a lot of winners in the Highland games,” I hastened to add. What did it matter if our guesses were right or wrong, as long as they made her happy?

I sank into a deep bow. “Now, Lady Adriana, may I have the honor of receiving your first clue? Do you feel anything?”

She twirled around. “The tingle is still there, but I can’t pinpoint it.” Her slim shoulders slumped.

“That’s fine. Who knows under how many layers of stuff our treasure is buried.” She’d once sensed a vanity case belonging to her from hundreds of yards’ distance, but considering back then we were out in the open and only separated by a shop window from the precious object, it would be wrong to compare that to our current situation.

I unlocked the enormous wardrobe. It was so big, it had to have been built on the spot. A whole family could have hidden in its depth.

Using my phone flashlight, I spotted several suitcases in the very back. Something tickled my nostrils. I sneezed.

“Bless you,” Adriana said. She sniffed the air. “Not mothballs. Lavender, with a hint of heather.”

“And dust. A lot of dust.” I pulled out the first suitcase. The leather was so old it showed cracks. Colorful tags covered the top. The owner had been to Chamonix, Monte Carlo, Baden Baden, and a dozen more locations.

“Those tags are all the rage,” Adriana marveled. “When Belle came home, her trunk looked a little like this.”

I dragged out a second piece of luggage, and a third. They were much too heavy to be empty. Adriana stroked them, with her eyes closed, and a blissful smile on her lips.

Finally, I took out two hat boxes.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Yes.”

The word came out as a whisper. Was she afraid? I was, not that I’d show it.

“One, two, three.” I flipped the lid of the first suitcase. A thick layer of tissue paper covered the contents.

“Wait. Where do we want to put the things?”

Adriana was right. Dumping them onto the floor wasn’t ideal. I collected two of the tartan throws. They were soft enough to protect fragile materials and they appeared clean. I gave them a little shake, to be on the safe side. A few dust motes swirled up. That was all.

I spread the throws on a table the size of a barn door.

Caleb found me smoothing the fabric. He carried a black bag once commonly used by doctors, and a large red ledger.

He put both on one of the desks before he asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to interrupt your work, if that’s what you’re doing.”

“I’m the one who’s in the way. I’m only up here to confirm a few things. Tamsin said you wouldn’t mind.”

Adriana folded her hands in a pleading gesture. “Ask him to show us.”

I did. As I say down, something sharp poked me; my notebook. I put it in the desk.

“It’s a wee side project,” he said. “All the castles have their own history. We hear about the noble folks so much, that I want to shine a spotlight on the forgotten people, as a companion piece to my work about the nobility.”

“Servants and farmers?”

“Among others.” He snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and methodically selected a couple of books so old, the letters on the spine were almost illegible. He opened one on a page with census results from Victorian times. His eyes gleamed with the zeal of the real enthusiast as he indicated the name of a labourer, his address and family status. “Think of these entries as the centre of a complex web. It’s like an intricate puzzle, where every new piece can change the picture.”

“And paupers are found to be princes in disguise?” I quipped.

He chuckled. “The opposite’s more likely, but that’s the gist.” He opened his black bag and added his selection to an assortment of books and plastic bags with old documents.

“Have you carried all these up here only to pick up some books?” I asked.

“They’re invaluable and also, some can be highly confidential. People put their trust in me.”

Considering how vital any scraps of information were to my family ghost, he had my wholehearted approval. Adriana’s, too. She gave him two thumbs-up.

“Have you ever lost a document?” I asked

“Never. Everything I find is logged in this ledger. Old school, I know, but I like to have a physical back-up, in case my phone breaks, and somehow my brain stores handwritten information much better.”

He snapped his bag shut. “I’ll leave you to it.”

With him gone, Adriana and I returned to our quest. Item by item found their way onto the table. I did the transporting, and Adriana took care of her search.

“Hot diggity-doo,” she called out after what felt like an eternity.

My great-great-aunt and I had unpacked and nixed jabot collars, ruffled shirts, and buckled shoes. A kilt and a leather sporran that served a Scottish gentleman as a pocket were well-kept enough to be donate to a museum. The sporran still held a tobacco pouch and a silver guinea.

Adriana’s exclamation came as a nice surprise, considering that so far, we’d only come across male articles.

She also sounded strong and clear as a bell. Definitely not a ghost getting ready to cross over. Whatever she’d found, it wouldn’t yank her away from my side. At least, not immediately.

In her hand, she held a bejeweled hairpin. Her skin glowed with an ethereal sheen as she gathered energy from the object.

“Very pretty,” I said.

“There should be second one.”

I touched the sapphire on the pin. “When did you wear it?” Since her current hairstyle was all loose waves, I was curious.

“At a party, when I tried finger waves. They suited Belle better, so I gave her the pair of pins.” Her voice took on a tight edge. She and her older sister had been so close I hoped they’d be reunited when Adriana’s afterlife had run its course.

“I think that’s the source of the tingle,” Adriana said.

“Maybe we’ll find the second pin. Every bit helps, right?”

I unpacked tweeds and nylons, hairbrushes and blouses, flannel pajamas and lab coats. All of them revealed a little more about “the American Lady Taverner”, and none of them was of any use to us.

“We might as well give up on this room,” Adriana sighed.

“We’re not done yet.” I opened the hat boxes. Inside, long, sharp pins were skewered respectively through a cloche and a wide-brimmed hat, both in a shade of blue Adriana loved.

“Are these yours?”

“The cloche was my mom’s. Belle bought it in Paris.” A tiny tear rolled down her cheek.

“Then we’ll ask to keep it.” The Darling family bonds between mothers and daughters tended to be strong, a fact I could attest to. “Daredevil” Rosalind and her two girls had been no exception.

Adriana sat and watched over her finds as if they might evaporate, while I returned clothes and other items to their original places.

I heaved the suitcases back into the wardrobe. As I pushed the last one inside, something tugged on my sleeve. I’d caught it on a wire hanger.

“Great,” I grumbled, praising my foresight to have changed back into my traveling clothes, because I’d expected to end up dirty and disreputable. Nevertheless, a large hole in my sleeve hadn’t been on my bingo card. If my luggage didn’t arrive tout suite, I might have to borrow more clothes or rely on my twin-set until I was forced to sit upwind of the rest of the company.

Despondent, I locked up wardrobe and chests and tiptoed downstairs. The last thing I needed was to trip and fall.

I was so intent on treading carefully, that I almost barged into a heated argument.

6

“Don’t. I’ll sort it out,” an anguished voice pleaded. I couldn’t identify it. It was either a woman with a deep voice or a man with a slightly higher pitch.

“If you won’t take care of it, I will,” another voice. This one was easily recognizable as Caleb’s warm Scottish burr. “It’s a matter of decency and fairness. You can’t keep on selling lies. It’s despicable.”

Adriana gasped. My ears pricked up too.

And then I sneezed.

The voices went silent. By the time we reached the bottom of the staircase, there was no one in sight.

“What do you think that was about?” my great-great-aunt asked.

“No idea, and frankly, we’re only here for one reason, so I’d rather not get involved in anything shady or sinister or whatever is going on.” If I ignored the tiny pique of curiosity, this summed up my true attitude towards the conversation. At least, it summed up most of it.

“Right.” Adriana’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not as if these people are our friends or so, or as if we owe someone like, say Tamsin and Angus, some assistance. All they do is roll out the red carpet for us and let us paw through their family things.”

I beckoned Adriana to follow me. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in the hallway outside the bathroom, with Caleb‘s bedroom next door. I had no idea if the rooms were empty.

The trouble was, Adriana loved playing sleuth, and often enough we’d found ourselves mixed up in mysteries. “The argument could have been about nothing at all,” I reasoned.

“Applesauce. Selling lies?”

“It’s still none of our business. All we can do is keep our ears and eyes open. If – and that’s a big if – we notice anything amiss, we can reconsider.”

Adriana flung herself onto the bed and raised her arm heavenwards. “We’ve been here less than 24 hours, and you’ve already become as stuffy as an etiquette book. Anything amiss!”

I put my hands on my hips. “Shouldn’t we concentrate on our mission?”

A knock on the door interrupted what might have turned into an argument of our own.

“Come in,” I said.

Matt had prepared for the worst. Two scarves hung loose over his shoulders, and he wore a fleece-lined coat fit for a trip to Siberia. He glanced around as he wrapped me in his arms. “If you’re wanting to say good-bye to Adriana, she’s waving at you from the bed,” I said.

He returned the wave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Maybe you can figure out how we can enjoy a little break away from everyone else while I’m gone,” he murmured.

My knees went weak. “Good idea.”

“Don’t mind me.” Adriana rolled herself onto her stomach and faced the wall instead of us.

I played with a scarf end. “I’ll miss you even more than my luggage.”

He stopped me with a kiss, and then he was gone.

“It feels weird, if it’s only the two of us,” Adriana mused.

“Why? It’s not as if Matt lives with us.”

“Not him, although it’s fine with me if you want him to throw in his lot with us. I miss Cleo, or having another pet around.”

She was right. There was a tabby-shaped hole in our current living arrangement. The only upside was the lack of cat hair in my food.

“I only have you to talk to here, and only if we’re alone.” The corners of her mouth turned down.

“Shall we go search for the kitchen kitty?” I asked, when the gong went again. In five minutes, it’d ring twice, and when it was struck three times, lunch was served. The warning period dated back generations, when the upper classes changed their clothes often enough to justify having a maid or gentleman’s gentleman standing by. It seemed, the Taverners kept the old habits alive and well.

I swapped my torn sweater for my new twin-set and ran the brush through my hair. A messy bun at the nape of my neck completed my effort.

Lunch without Matt was a different, slightly more subdued affair, especially since my great-great-aunt kept herself in the background. By now I’d mastered the art of elegant soup eating so I could concentrate on the conversation around me. 

Diana’s gaze flickered over my outfit. “We are almost the same size. If you run out of clothes, drop in to my bedroom and I’ll kit you out.” 

“I appreciate that,” I said. If Matt hurried, I wouldn’t need to take her up on that offer. Yet it would be nice not to stick out like a sore thumb when it came to sartorial questions. Also, it would be fun to have the right winter gear to go on a long tramp in the snow in the company of Caleb, so he could fill me and Adriana in with all the historical anecdotes. 

It would have been nicer still with Matt by my side. How could I miss him so much already?

One day soon we had figure out what to do about our relationship. One of us always appeared to be busy. Yet, that discussion had to wait for a little while; not only because he was on the road again, but also because I had to figure out a way to find a solution that would work for all three of us.

It wasn’t her fault that she and I were as good as inseparable.

“Is something wrong with the haddock?”

It took me a second to realize Tamsin was addressing Douglas who again sat to my left.

“Delicious, as always.” He took another forkful of his fish pie, as if to prove his point. I did notice though that he had a lot more left on his plate than the rest of us. Good manners would have prompted him to praise any food served. 

“He’s making a face as if he’s swallowed a fishbone dipped in chilli and vinegar,” Adriana said.

I covered my mouth with my serviette to hide my twitching lips. She was right, and he’d flinched earlier too, when he sat down.

“Where’s Caleb?” I asked. 

Claire arched her eyebrow at me. I interpreted that as her polite upper-class way of showing curiosity in my interest, since my boyfriend had only just left.

“You know us Americans and our fascination with castles,” I added for good measure. 

“He seldom joins us for lunch. Too busy digging up the past,” Owen said, in a throw-away manner. It must be hard for him to divide his attention between admiring Diana and contributing to conversation around the table. I’d studied (or rather listened to Adriana telling me all about it) who was allowed to chat with whom, according to the seating order, but apparently those strict rules only applied to formal occasions.

“You could show Genie around,” Diana said. She lifted her wine glass and admired the ruby red liquid. It matched her nail polish and I expected she’d chosen it for that reason since she’d barely touched her drink.

I’d stuck with water, without bothering to give an explanation.

“I’m no match for Caleb,” Owen protested. “That man was born running up and down those mountains and telling you everything about who did what and when and how.”

“I’ll take Genie on a tour, when I’m through with a few things.” Angus twinkled at me. “There should be hiking boots in your size in the mud room.”

Adriana gave me an enthusiastic nod. Fresh air to blow away the cobwebs couldn’t hurt both of us. It also gave me a little bit of mental preparation for a trip to the dungeons later. The word alone caused a little shiver. 

After our long, leisurely lunch ended, I followed Diana to her bedroom. My jaw dropped as I saw it. If my room oozed period romantic, this one was fit for a princess. A blazing crystal chandelier, velvet curtains and an array of mirrors made Adriana oooh with appreciation.

Diana flung open her wardrobe. She handed me a thick cable-knit sweater in an oatmeal color, a waxed jacket with fleece lining and a pair of thick, baggy corduroy pants. Next came thermal leggings and socks. “These should keep you warm for hours.”

I gaped in surprise. I hadn’t taken her for a rugged outdoorswoman. She chuckled. “Hiking’s the best way to explore the Highlands, no matter what Owen and Douglas think. It also keeps you fit and it’s the best antidote to all the meals you’ll be served in this place. I hope you’re ready for afternoon tea in a couple of hours.”

I goggled at her. “We’ve only just eaten.”

She shrugged. “The Taverners take hospitality seriously.”

I remembered something. “Douglas mentioned Claire’s first husband, and I got the impression he doesn’t want her to dwell on him.”

“He’d wrap her in cotton wool if she let him. He’s got this sweet if very strange idea that Claire has to be sheltered from anything unpleasant. Inferiority complex, if you ask me, because he thinks she downgraded when she married him, after Angus’s brother died in a plane crash.”

“Downgraded? He’s got a title, doesn’t he?”

“Sir Douglas McIver. The country’s littered with Honorables and Sirs.”

“He’s the first one I met.”

“Really? Lots of titles are actually a mere formality. You can barely walk across Westminster without bumping into a couple of men with life peerages. They don’t really matter all that much since they can’t be passed on to one’s own children. That’s still reserved for inherited nobility, and with so many real titles for sale these days ... Anyway, the Taverners are a few rungs up the noble ladder from the McIvers.” She laughed.

“All these titles have a nice ring to them.”

She fluttered her hand. A square-cut diamond ring sparked a tiny rainbow in the mirror. “As one commoner to the other, I hear you.”

We appeared to have different definitions of commoner, I thought. Still, she was nice, and generous. With a heartfelt thanks, I headed to my room, to change into the borrowed clothes and head outside.

With a blue-blooded host by my side, who lived and breathed the history of this place, I relaxed. Adriana was bound to stay close enough to hang onto Angus’s every word. I’d stuffed her brick into my pocket, wrapped in a glove.

The winter sun cast a feeble glow upon the castle. If I ignored the barn-sized garage with its electric door at the far end of the courtyard, I felt transported back centuries. All that was missing were cross-bow and sword carrying guards in chain mail and with helmets, patroling the parapets and peering through the crenellations. 

“There are the arrow slits,” Adriana marveled. She raced ahead and floated up to touch the narrow openings. I hadn’t noticed them before. I’d been too busy envisaging the piper in his kilt, playing while the laird and his lady, who bore a strong similarity to Matt and me, entered the great hall.

“Have there ever been battles fought here?”

“A couple of skirmishes,” Angus said. “Nothing to make it into the history books. The Taverners and their castle weren’t important enough, and moat and drawbridge did a marvelous job at keeping the few assailants at bay.” He shaded his eyes against the low sun. “Do you see the parapets?”

“Yes.”

“Legend has it, during the first skirmish, Lady Taverner had a few servants put helmets on long sticks and let them peek out, through the crenelations. The attackers shot their arrows across, and the Taverner’s archers picked them off throw the arrow slits below the guard tower. The story spread, and my ancestress’s name became feared for hundreds of miles.”

“That’s amazing.”

I stubbed my foot on a snow-covered rock and came back to the present.

“I hope the retreat guests will feel the same. The castle mostly offers historical interest. What you see is nearly all the same as it was in the 1920s, so the staff is trying to model themselves on that era.” Angus said. “Back then, it was the height of luxury to have two indoor bathrooms, with hot and cold water, and a private bathroom for the master suite. We tend to glorify the days of fancy balls and brave chevaliers, but they did have their drawbacks, with latrines and commodes and lack of heating – or privacy.” He gave me a shrewd look. “Speaking of heating, care to take our tour inside? The sun will set soon.”

“Aye, that’d be bonny,” Adriana said, in full Highland mode. 

We were still in the mud room, where I grappled with the bootjack and Angus lit a clandestine cigarette, when we heard toenails scrabble over the stone floor. The housekeeper came in, struggling to prevent a black and white terrier from jumping up on Angus.

“Have you missed me so much? Good laddie.”

The terrier woofed and cocked his head, to stare at my great-great-aunt. I had the foresight to jump behind her, so the dog’s interest made sense to an onlooker.

Adriana crouched and stroked the dog.

“Hamish likes you,” Angus said.

I touched the silky head, careful not to touch Adriana as well. It took a lot of energy for her to act as conduit between me and animals, so I tried to avoid it.

“He’s adorable. Why haven’t I met him before?”

“Owen’s allergic to dog hair. While he’s our guest, Hamish is under Mrs. Brodie’s care.”

“What a pity.”

That was all I managed to say, before two gunshots shattered the peace.

7

The housekeeper froze. Hamish barked.

From upstairs came loud shouts. “He’s getting away. Caleb!”

Angus glowered. “Bloody poachers again!” He jerked open the door. The light spilled out of the room and formed a half-circle outside. Other than that, plus the light from the lamps, there was nothing to see but the imposing walls and trees in what remained from the dusk. Whoever had fired the shots had disappeared.

Parkins huffed up beside me. He struggled to catch his breath. “I’m awfully sorry, my lord. Shall I ring up the police?”

“No need. At least, not yet.” Angus managed an apologetic gesture as he addressed me. “I’m afraid I can’t take you to the dungeons just yet.”

“Scary phrase,” Adriana said.

Before I could reply, Owen and Douglas rushed in. The hotelier took a step back as he spotted the terrier, but valiantly stayed.

“The shots were awfully close, so if we spread out, the three of us ought to do,” Douglas said.

“What are you looking for? The shooter?” I asked.

“I have a pretty good idea who that was.” Angus’ jaw tightened.

The housekeeper slipped away. So did Parkins, after a tiny nod from his master.

“We’re looking for blood, or a carcass. If an animal’s only hurt …”

He didn’t need to finish the words. I could imagine it only too well.

“They’ll need us,” Adriana said. She headed towards the door. Literally.

“Wait.”

The three men stared at me.

“Wait for me.”

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your offer but you don’t know your way, and there are treacherous places out there,” Angus said.

“Not to mention a poacher with a gun.” Owen slipped into heavy boots and grabbed two overcoats from the rack, one for himself and one for Douglas.

“What about Hamish?”

If Owen really was allergic, the dog might be more hindrance than help.

“That’s a problem. He’s prone to let his hunting instincts get the better of him whenever he sniffs a rabbit.”

Adriana made little kissing noises. The terrier rubbed himself against my great-great-aunt, and me. “I’ll take care of him. I like dogs,” I offered.

That should also solve Adriana’s dilemma. As hard as it was for her not to use her pet-whispering gifts to search for an animal in distress, I could count on her to stick to my side and Hamish’s if that kept us out of harm’s, or in the dog’s case, out of temptation’s way.

“Thanks.” The men set off.

I took a lead from a hook on the wall and clipped it onto Hamish’s collar.

“He doesn’t need that,” Adriana protested. “He’s a good wee lad.”

“I’d rather not put that to the test. Owen turned purple enough in his presence.” If two minutes with one small dog caused the man to be on the brink of a sneezing attack, I shuddered thinking what a badly shedding dog would do to him.

“We could go to the dungeons on our own,” Adriana suggested.

“If Tamsin’s fine with that. I thought, I’ll grab my sketch book and we’ll explore a little, to see if your famous tingle returns.”

These days I kept a sketch book stuffed into my jacket, so all I had to do was take my own garment from where I’d put it to dress in the borrowed coat.

The constant bulge in my silhouette no longer bothered me. It freed me up to do some real pencil sketches whenever inspiration for an original Darling design struck. The biggest bonus, and one no nifty phone app could replace, was the fact that it allowed me to capture Adriana’s picture on our outings.

I’d worked diligently on my skills at portraits, before coming to Scotland. This Christmas was the first for Adriana since her untimely demise, and I planned to make it special.

Hamish’s toenails scraped on the flagstones.

“Where to first?” Adriana twirled in the large passage.

The terrier yapped.

“You’re hungry?”

“I don’t think the kitchen is the right destination for us.” A dog begging for treats or fighting with the kitchen cat might add to the stress of the staff. Also, I preferred not to fall afoul of whatever eating habits the Taverners had instilled in Hamish. Or tried to instil.

Adriana stood still and closed her eyes. “There’s something calling out to me.”

“Can you pinpoint it?”

“It’s more a whisper than a loud call,” she admitted.

“We’ll stroll around. Say the word when the signal gets stronger.”

Adriana weaved her way across the passage and into a large, oak-paneled room. There she stood transfixed, with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Did you detect something?”

“Will you look at this. If this isn’t just the cat’s meow.”

Her sudden switch from her newly acquired Scots phrases to the slang of her youth gave me a start. What had she found, that affected her so much?

I peered around. Hamish strained at the leash. I let him have a bit more freedom to sniff at the banquet table with its carved oak chairs, a chest held with hammered metal bands, and the suit of armor resting against the wall, beside another fireplace big enough to roast an ox. It was enough to make me wonder if the early lairds had owned a whole armory.

“It’s like a museum, or a movie,” Adriana whispered. She took on a coquettish pose, with one arm resting on the pretend knight’s arm.

“No tingle?”

Maybe she needed a break. Since I had no idea how her sensory perception worked, I trusted her to stop with whatever she was doing whenever she felt like it.

She shook her head, before she gazed at her metal partner with an adoration that had me whip out my sketchbook and pencil in no time flat.

“Keep still,” I said and turned a page from a design for a Scottish-influenced bangle and earrings to a fresh one.

My pencil flew over the paper. I could take photographs of the scene later, but this was the only chance I had to capture my great-great-aunt, standing there in her silk evening dress, flirting with a metal suit. The silver of her dress and the pewter shade of the armor were complemented by the gold of her hair.

I was so intent on catching the scene, that I only heard footsteps when they’d almost reached me. I flipped back the page. Tamsin had mentioned no known hauntings, and I didn’t want to be thought of as the American who lets her romantic ideas run wild as soon as she’s in a castle.

Caleb peeked at my design. “That’s very clever.”

“I’m flattered.” I was. I’d taken great care to study traditional Celtic symbols, before tweaking them to make my design unique.

“There’s a copier in Angus’ office, if you like. There’s nothing worse than losing your work and having no back-up.” He sounded as if he spoke from sad experience.

“It’s only a preliminary sketch, but thanks. What brings you here?”

He twinkled at me. “I’ve been asked to search for you. Afternoon tea’s ready in a few minutes, if you can fancy it.”

To my surprise, my stomach rumbled. As a teenager, I’d had a decadent afternoon tea in London. What started with innocent looking finger sandwiches with the crust cut off and tiny pastries, had quickly evolved into a gourmet meal to remember with tears in your eyes decades later.

Caleb promised to tell our hostess I’d join them asap, while I sprinted upstairs to change out of the borrowed corduroys.

I forced myself to slow down as I approached the drawing room where afternoon tea awaited. I had no intention to show any less than the utmost decorum. Hamish had rejoined the staff, to Adriana’s fleeting disappointment.

She draped herself on a damask-covered chair. “I wonder what Betsy made of this.”

I’d asked myself how a New England girl from a loving, but not exactly well-off family had coped with being thrown into the lap of a luxury that came with strict no-nos and death by a thousand dowagers or at least their glares.

Even in her finery, thanks to Adriana’s mother and a few other generous souls, it must have felt like going into a lion’s den.

The men had returned from their search. It had been fruitless. I breathed easier. At least no blood in the snow meant no animal had been shot.

I sipped a delicately fragranced lapsang souchong and nibbled a finger-sized salmon sandwich, when the discussion turned towards the likely culprit.

“The sooner the case comes up before the justice of the peace, the better,” Angus said. “That man is a scourge. A repeat offender, too. Well, this time, he’s bound to be sent to prison for a change.”

Douglas eyed the whiskey decanter as his wife refilled his tea cup. One glance at her, and he took the beverage without so much as a sigh. “Stupid and risky, to try his luck again here. But then, that’s the criminal classes for you.”

Caleb opened his mouth only to change his mind and snap it shut again.

“Unless it’s white collar crime, you mean,” Angus chimed in.

Douglas’s brows knitted together. His wife patted his hand. “Nobody blames you for your old mentor’s failings.”

“Good heavens, no.” Angus looked appalled. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. Maybe old Finlay thought he’s going down anyway, with an eye witness tying him to breaking the law, so he’s got nothing to lose.”

“White collar crime?” I leant closer to Tamsin. “I’m confused.”

Tamsin answered in a low voice. “A scandal in the City, years ago, but poor Douglas blamed himself for not noticing anything was amiss. The money was never recovered, more’s the pity.”

Louder, she said, “Let’s plan Christmas. We thought it would be nice to all contribute one tradition to our celebration.”

Adriana perked up. “I love playing charades and stringing up popcorn.”

Since most people in the room were looking at me expectantly, I repeated her requests.

Tamsin wrote them down on a notepad.

“We used to make our own crackers,” Claire said. “And my grandparents took out the horses and a sleigh to take us through the snow to the midnight service. I miss that.”

“I remember going with you, that first year I spent the holidays with you,” Diana said to her.

“We used to sing carols, the older the better,” Douglas said with a slightly pained air.

“Dickens’ Christmas Carol, read by the fireplace.” Owen smiled.

“It’s going to be the bee’s knees.” Adriana jumped off the chair and broke into a quick Charleston.

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed. “Good heavens, I need to return to my work. If you’ll excuse me.” Caleb put down his cup.

“Dungeons,” Adriana reminded me.

I asked our hosts if now would be a good time, doing my best to ignore the sudden knot in my stomach. There were no ghosts awaiting, apart from the beautiful specter already in my company, I told myself. No frightful wailing, rattling of chains, or vengeful apparitions. At least I prayed there weren't.

8

Our steps echoed on the worn stone as I followed Angus down a hitherto hidden servants’ staircase. It led past the former great hall, and the kitchen, down to a gloomy, low arch.

Icy fingers crept over my spine. Had anyone ever been incarcerated here and spent their days and nights shackled to the ground, squatting on rotting straw, with rats running over their feet? I dimly remembered torture chambers and medieval instruments that had given me nightmares after a museums visit as a child.

“Booo.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Sorry.” Owen apologised, with a sheepish look on his face. “Angus’s brother used to do that to me when I was a child.”

Angus glared at him.

Adriana mustered the offender.

I braced myself for what would happen next. Sure enough, Adriana pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, aiming squarely at Owen. “Boo yourself.” Chilly air blasted him, and him only.

He shook himself. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” I radiated wide-eyed innocence, in a fair imitation of my great-great-aunt.

Angus shook his head, to let Owen know that he, too, was unaware of anything.

Adriana hit Owen with another chilly blast. He fled.

My loyal ghost giggled. So did I, although Owen’s reaction had my full understanding.

Angus switched on the light, and bright beams replaced the gloom.

We stepped through the arch, into a cavernous room that spanned at least half the castle. Brick partitions a couple of feet high and five or six yards in length reminded me of open plan offices. Pillars supported the ceiling at irregular intervals.

Iron rings in the walls made me shudder again. “Was that where prisoners were chained to?”

Instinctively, I reached for Adriana’s hand. She’d gone pale, but that could be a trick of the light. Please, let there be no horrors waiting for you, I thought.

“There aren’t.”

It took me a heartbeat to realize what I just heard. Adriana had answered my words. She’d read my mind.

We stared at each other. She swayed a little, and the gleam in her eyes had dimmed before it returned. But now it was back.

There could only exist one explanation for her new powers. We were close to a strong energy source related to her former existence.

She took longer than usual to focus her search. “Over there.” Her finger trembled as she pointed towards the other end of the room, where one of the partitions was stacked high with trunks and other luggage dating back generations, if not centuries.

Angus lingered, but didn’t come too close. Was there anything spooky about the items?

“Everything on the left side belonged to Betsy, or her husband. Is it okay if I let you alone while you have a look?” He ruffled his hair. “Or I can send you one of the maids to assist?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

Angus handed me a set of keys.

“I promise I’ll be as careful as possible with the items,” I said.

“I don’t doubt it. It’s a good way to kickstart the clean-out. We seem to have spawned generations of hoarders.”

“You should have seen the Darling villa, only a few months ago. The aunt who’d last lived there spent decades crocheting, needle-pointing and quilting enough to cover all of New England with her creations. One wrong step, and you’d be smothered by an avalanche of wool and fabric.”

With these comforting words, I sent him on his way. At the last moment, I thought of adding, “The maids will be busy. I’ll simply put anything I discover aside, and then Tamsin can have a look later today or tomorrow.”

He nodded.

“That was close,” Adriana said.

I agreed. There were some things better done in private, like a possible life – or afterlife – changing treasure hunt with a ghost.

Said ghost was also slippery. One moment, she was right beside me, the next, she called out to me from several yards away. “Hot diggity.”

I legged it over to her, only to see her gawking at an array of wine casks and whiskey bottles big enough to make the whole county tipsy. Barrels were stacked up at one side.

We’d found the wine cellar.

I motioned her away, to a safe distance. If only one of those bottles had sprung a leak, on top of the wine-saturated air at lunch, I had a problem.

It was bad enough trying to keep my great-great-aunt focused on any task when she’d had a noseful of alcohol. Worse, she might end up swinging from the chandelier or playing hide and seek inside the suits of armor. Goosebumps formed on my skins at the mere thought of the havoc she was capable of causing.

“Stay here,” I commanded.

Three trunks down here contained Betsy Taverner’s belongings, according to Angus. They were all kept surprisingly clean. Some of the wine bottles were covered in cobwebs and a fine film of dust. I deducted that the reason wasn’t neglect, but the proper storage process for the sort of wine not usually found on supermarket shelves, or at “Vine and Vinyl” back in Cobblewood Cove.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Adriana. Her natural glow had returned, so nothing appeared to affect her negatively. On the other hand, she also didn’t seem supercharged – yet. Direct physical, or was it metaphysical, contact with important objects gave her a surge of energy.

She shrugged. “A little woozy.”

“From the alcohol or another kind of woozy?”

She shrugged again.

Only one way to find out.

I padded the floor with woollen horse blankets to stave off the cold before I knelt to sort through the contents of the trunks.

One held evening gowns and the tweed skirt suits beloved by the late queen and a staple in British country wardrobes. They were all well worn and expertly patched up in places. Despite marrying into money, Betsy had kept to her frugal ways. I wished I’d met her.

Sadly, the garments were of a much later fashion era than the one we were interested in.

I put the clothes back when a slim jewelry case tucked away in the lining of the trunk drew my attention.

My mouth went dry. It was exactly the kind of case suitable to hold Adriana’s missing necklace.

I resorted to yogic breathing until I felt calm enough to see for myself.

Adriana sunk to her knees as I opened the container. Her voice shook. “To see this again.” A tear rolled down her cheek and disappeared again.

I picked up a bracelet with rubies and sapphires. It sparkled in the light like a Christmas tree.

“This was Belle’s gift to our mother when she came back from Switzerland.” Adriana’s lip trembled.

I wiped away a tear of my own. As an only child I’d never experienced the close relationship that connected my great-great-aunt and her beloved older sister, but I felt her sense of loss like a physical blow.

She touched the bracelet. Her creamy complexion became rosier, and the blue of her eyes deepened.

I let her sit, with her treasure, while I continued the hunt. My diligence was rewarded when I reached the bottom of the very last trunk. Wrapped in tissue paper were a beaded clutch Adriana claimed as her own, and a photograph in a silver frame. Although the picture showed Betsy and her husband in full evening wear, it gave me another idea. Fancy affairs demanded fancy clothes. If Betsy had ended up with the necklace, she might have worn it for special occasions.

What was likelier than a photo or two of her, with the necklace?

9

I folded the horse blankets away. We took our finds upstairs, as the dinner gong chimed for the first time.

Matt rang as I buttoned my cardigan. Tomorrow I’d ask Diana for her assistance again, before the cute twin-set became an olfactory hazard.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted me.

A warm fuzzy feeling spread over me. “Hey, yourself. How’s my luggage and how is Edinburgh? Happy revelers everywhere, or haven’t you been to the Christmas market yet? When will you be back?” Longing crept into my voice.

He cleared his throat, audibly. “Slight hitch, I’m afraid.”

Adriana, who’d eavesdropped shamelessly, whistled through her teeth. “Uh oh.”

“Hitch?” Had my pitch risen half an octave? Either that, or we had a freakishly loud, squeaking mouse in the room. I lowered my voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, and I’ve been promised, your things will definitely be here tomorrow, or the day after. I won’t be done before then anyway. Not quite how we’d planned it.”

“Another couple of days?” Before I could embarrass myself by whineing about his – and my clothes’ – prolonged absence, I was saved by the final gong. At least he’d sounded as disappointed as I was.

“Call me tomorrow, okay? Miss you loads.” With that, I ended the call.

“Don’t pout,” Adriana said. “It’s not his fault.”

She was right. Matt put up with a lot for our sake, and I had no reason to feel hard done by because he’d had the nerve to leave me as a pampered guest in a romantic castle.

I heard steps behind me and hurried up. I had no intention of being the last guest to arrive at the dinner table, if I could help it.

I beat Douglas and Claire by a minute. He put on a brave face in front of his wife, yet whenever she was distracted, I notice a tiny wince.

“How’s your search going?” Diana asked.

“Genie’s discovered the most adorable things,” Tamsin enthused. “The Darling sisters, who originally owned them, must have been the belles of the ball back in their days.”

“They were.” I moved my soup spoon the correct way to enjoy a hearty broth to start us off. “I’ve got a picture on my phone, if you’d like to see it after dinner.”

Two courses later, we were done and withdrew to the games room for coffee or stronger refreshments. I signaled Adriana to stay clear of the bar.

For once, she listened without a moment’s hesitation. I had to praise her later for her will-power.

She perched on the arm of the sofa I’d chosen and I presented a picture of Adriana and Belle, dressed up for a party in 1927. They’d posed back to back, the matching feathers in their headbands touching.

“Gorgeous,” Tamsin said.

“The blonde one could have made a fortune as a model,” Diana agreed.

Adriana tried to look modest. “Applesauce. Darlings were always easy on the eye, but model …”

“Do you know if there’s a picture of Betsy with the Darling sisters?” I asked. “Or any pictures of her dressed up in things with a connection to Cobblewood Cove? The board of our local museum is constantly on the lookout for memorabilia that has a true connection to the town’s past, and the townsfolk’s.”

For a moment I thought I saw Caleb’s gaze flicker to the Taverners and the McIvers.

Then Tamsin said, “There must be a bunch of photo albums left from her early years. I’m sure I saw some in the container from Italy.”

“Unless they’re in the London flat,” Angus mentioned.

“I don’t think so. Wasn’t it only a few ornaments we took there?” Tamsin furrowed her brows, deep in thought.

“Welcome to how the other half lives,” Owen said.

I smiled and said nothing. The villa in Italy had been in the hands of the Taverners for over a century. The little black Chanel dress that hung upstairs in a garment bag in my wardrobe had been one of the items put up for auction when Tamsin and Angus decided on a clean out and a sale.

“Ignore him,” Diana teased. “Owen’s the only one here who isn’t at least in line for a title and likes to show off that he’s a self-made man.”

Owen took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Touché. I don’t mind being a commoner, though. I wouldn’t want Genie to have the wrong impression.”

“I think all these titles are a lulu,” Adriana said.

“What about you, Caleb?” I asked. “I don’t want to use the wrong mode of address.”

“You won’t. We lost all claim to nobility centuries ago.”

Adriana and I shared an excited glance.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He helped himself to a cup of coffee and brought one for me as well.

A side table offered enough space for Douglas to set down milk jug and sugar bowl, and tea for himself.

Only Claire, Owen and Angus stuck with a brandy.

“How much do you remember about Scottish history?”

Adriana rubbed her hands in glee. “I dinnae ken much, laddie.”

She winked at me. “Don’t you love the way they talk here?”

“Let’s say, I’ve heard about Bonny Prince Charlie, Mary Queen of Scots, the Highland clearings, and the Loch Ness monster. I’m far from an expert though.”

“Our ancestors were lucky, even if they wouldn’t have thought so themselves. Bonny Prince Charlie bypassed this castle on his famous flight. Caleb’s family on the other hand gave him shelter for a few nights. The punishment for that didn’t wait long. The crown stripped them of their title and their fortune,” Angus said.

“How horrible. And you were never reinstated?” I asked Caleb. “Is that why you became a historian? Because your family is so closely tied to the past?”

“Nothing as romantic as that,” he said with a shrug. “The history books paint everything in broad strokes, with battles and titles and royal successions at the heart of most well-known stories. I like to remember the small stories, too.”

“Tell Genie about your great-grandfather,” Tamsin prompted.

“I don’t want to bore her with a lecture.”

“Don’t you worry. I think it’s fascinating,” I said.

Claire and Douglas apparently didn't share my enthusiasm, or they'd heard the story too often. Claire drifted further away to refill her brandy glass while her husband stared at his tea, in a distracted manner.

“It started with the Great War. Up until then, most noble families had their heir and a spare, and in most cases many more male successors, to claim entailed estates and titles. Back then, only in the royal family the title and fortune could be passed on to the female line, if there was no son. But the first World War devastated so many families, that it was harder and harder to discover the next male heir in line. Some connections were too remote, others were almost impossible to prove, unless, like my ancestor, you were willing to dig deep into every single church registry, census paper, diaries and letter collections. He spent months away from home in the search for the missing heir, before an estate fell to the Crown, and titles went extinct. In some cases he found the right person, but there was hardly anything left to inherit. Death duties piled up if one heir after the other died in the trenches or succumbed to their war wounds in the coming years. Only in 1925 did the law change in regards to entailed properties.”

“So, if you were a woman you’d miss out?” Adriana stemmed her hands on her hips.

I repeated her question.

Caleb raised his hands. “To a certain extent, yes. A will could help provide, but certain things were exclusively tied to the male lineage.”

Adriana pulled a face. “Not fair.”

Caleb reached for his coffee cup. “Which one’s mine?”

I paused, unsure.

“That one,” Douglas said. He handed Caleb the right cup.

I picked up mine too. The coffee was cold. We’d forgotten it over Caleb’s history lesson.

I sat my cup down. Caleb followed suit.

We both yawned.

“Shall I ring for a fresh pot?” Tamsin reached out for a bell-push behind her.

“Not for me. I want to have a look at a few things,” Caleb said and rose.

Douglas followed him into the hallway.

“I’ll also call it a night,” I said.

“Toodle-ooh,” Diana said. “I’ll have a few things sent up to you in the morning.”

“Matt called Angus and told him about the delay,” Tamsin said.

“It’s all for the best anyway. There’s another foot of snow forecast and the road crews will be busy enough clearing the main roads. The last miles to us can be tricky to navigate in this weather.” Angus poured himself another drink.

Claire shook herself. “I’m glad we don’t have to be out and about. Murder, that’s what it is.”

10

In our room, Adriana danced a lively Charleston around her recovered possessions. “Yessir, that’s my handbag, nossir, don’t mean sandbag,” she belted at the top of her lungs.

I also felt like breaking into a song and dance. A lovely stash of flannel pyjamas, cashmere bed socks and a padded dressing gown awaited me, with a note from Tamsin. “Sweet dreams.”

The morning brought more finery, in the form of a cashmere sweater, warm socks, woolen pants with a disguised elastic waistband, and a cashmere cape. Jenna, the younger maid, had deposited the welcome additions to my wardrobe after bringing me a cup of tea. She’d also removed the clothes I’d worn for the last couple of days and promised to have them laundered and returned “fresh as a daisy, Miss”.

I stretched luxuriously under the heavy duvet. If I poked out a foot, I sensed a hint of cold emanating from the thick slabs of stone. No wonder the Taverners had kept the original fireplaces in addition to the radiators.

Flinging the cape over my shoulders took a bit of practice, and starting the day with tea instead of coffee was a jolt to the system, but I’d made worse sacrifices, in much worse surroundings.

“Lady Genie,” I whispered to myself. No, a grand title demanded my full name. “Lady Geneviève.”

“And Lady Adriana.” My faithful ghost had held her tongue unusually long while she watched me fight with the cape. Was she too lost in a daydream about exchanging the Darling villa for a Highland castle? Apart from Matt, whom she’d classed as a sheikh, there were no princes to be found in Cobblewood Cove. Here, on the other hand, romance lived and breathed.

I let my hand trail over the railing as I slowly descended the stairs.

My brain fizzed with ideas for sterling silver jewelry, inlaid with local amber or topaz. There was something about smoky golds and browns, together with the rich gleam of the metal that suited these surroundings.

If only I’d taken a sketchbook with me. Only the realisation that cramming it into my borrowed pockets might not be the best idea, unless I wanted to repay kindness with gross negligence, and that sketching at the breakfast table counted as a strict no under most circumstances prevented me from going upstairs. I’d have to rely on my memory for those sparks of inspiration.

Breakfast offered a choice of porridge, smoked kippers, and again, the one food I wouldn’t touch. When in sparkling form, Adriana managed to consume a droplet or two. The same went for crumbs. I didn’t mind indulging her love for our very own gelato, or crispy bacon, or carbonara sauce. What I did mind was being emotionally blackmailed into eating something not on my personal menu.

It wasn’t that I lacked a sense of gastronomic adventure, as my now defunct blog “How To Eat Like A Queen When You’re A Pauper” proved. Yet we all have lines that we draw.

Mine was met by the haggis in front of me. The idea of eating sheep’s innards and other ingredients mixed together and fried appealed to Adriana’s new found love for ye olde Scotland. They did nothing for me.

I discreetly stepped away from the haggis. If my great-great-aunt desired a nibble, she’d have to wait for someone else to supply it.

A glance around the table told me that I wasn’t the only one with reservations.

“Where’s your husband?” Tamsin asked Claire. “Cook makes the haggis especially for him, and now he’s running late?”

“He was a little under the weather last night, so I thought I won’t disturb him in his room. Caleb isn’t down yet either.” A tiny smile flickered up in her face.

Adriana watched me in growing frustration. “How hard can it be to fill your plate?”

Silence was the best, and in company the only, answer. I settled on toast and marmalade.

I’d finished eating when Tamsin beckoned the maid. “Please let the gentlemen know that breakfast will be cleared away in half an hour, Jenna.”

“Aye, my lady.” Jenna curtsied. “They both dinnae want their morning tea. The doors were locked.”

Tamsin appeared taken aback. “How strange.”

The maid bobbed her head and left.

“That is weird,” Adriana mused. “The upper class always leave their doors open for the servants to come in. Like we did.”

Angus settled next to me. “I think I can find those albums for you. There’s also Betsy’s diaries, if you’re interested.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said, with genuine enthusiasm. This day was shaping up to be special.

It was, only not as I’d expected.

I still lingered over my last cup of coffee , with the others already gone to do whatever they did, when a blood-curdling scream startled me.

“He’s dead.”

11

Adriana and I raced upstairs. Parkins held the fainting maid in his arms. Douglas, wrapped in his dressing gown, with his feet in slippers and pyjama pants peeking out, did the same with his wife.

They stood outside his room.

Angus tried to prevent me from seeing inside. “There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

I didn’t understand.

Adriana flitted past me, to investigate. She gulped. “It’s Caleb. He’s lying on the bed and he’s not breathing.”

Angus instructed us all to clear the hallway. He locked the door to Douglas’s bedroom, his face grim as heck.

“Parkins, please take everyone to the morning room while I call the police.”

My stomach churned. None of this made sense. Only last night, Caleb had been alive and well and chatting with me. Now, he lay dead in a room that wasn’t even his.

What was going on?

In a daze, I followed the others downstairs. Diana and Owen were already there, with the second housemaid. Either Oona was a lot tougher than Jenna, or the fact that she hadn’t seen the body helped. Anyway, she bustled around, pulling out chairs, supplying blankets and clucking over everyone else.

Tamsin wrung her hands. They were white-knuckled. “I can’t believe it.”

“Was it his heart?” Diana asked. “The poor man.”

Owen patted her arms. “Try not to think about it.” His response seemed a little cold to me, but Diana answered him with a wan smile, so maybe it was what she needed to hear.

Jenna propped herself up on the daybed where Parkins had deposited her.

“I ken he was doomed.”

Like a well-trained ballet, we all turned towards the maid.

She fanned herself. “Aye, and I told Mrs. Brodie.”

Now, our heads swiveled again as we all gazed around, searching for the housekeeper.

“Where is she?” Tamsin demanded.

Parkins cleared his throat. “I’ve taken the liberty to send her to the kitchen, to organize a few things.” He did not go into any details. He didn’t need to, because the missing housekeeper appeared in the doorway, with a tea trolley.

“Splendid.” Owen hurried to secure a hot drink and a digestive biscuit for Diana, before he thought of asking our hostess if she wanted anything.

An inappropriate snort escaped me. Death or no death, there’d always be tea in a British household.

I declined. Everyone else took part in the time-honored tradition.

“Doomed,” the maid repeated, either to rid herself of the memory or to redirect the attention to herself. As dreadful as Caleb’s passing was, she’d probably dine out on this story for years to come.

“Nonsense.” The housekeeper pursed her lips. “Old wives’ tales, that’s what it is.”

“What is an old wives’ tale?” Angus had returned to our midst in time to catch the last words.

“The dead man,” the maid whispered. “He put his shoes on a table only yesterday in the mud room. My granny had the same thing happening, with her own uncle.”

Her colleague rolled her eyes. “Nobody believes that stuff these days.”

Parkins quelled any possible outburst with a withering glare they probably taught in the advanced classes of butler school.

“It’s an old superstition,” Angus explained to me. “Shoes on the table means courting an untimely demise.”

“He pretends it’s all okay, but he’s got the heebie-jeebies,” Adriana declared. I gave her a tiny nod. Angus’s voice had a brittle edge, and his attempts at levity were at odds with his brisk behavior upstairs.

“Did he leave a family behind?” Douglas asked.

“Only his mother and an older sister, in Aberdeen.” Tamsin shivered.

“The poor fellow.”

“What was he doing in your bedroom, darling?” Claire enquired.

Douglas pressed his hands on his stomach. “I’d asked him to switch for the night.” He shifted in his seat. “I wanted to be as close to the bathroom as possible. I don’t know if the food was to blame, but my tummy’s been feeling rotten ever since breakfast yesterday, when Caleb and I shared the kedgeree, and last night was the worst.”

“That was you running back and forth in the middle of the night?” Owen asked.

“I’m sorry if I kept you up. I think I heard Caleb too. If you ask me, we both had a bout of food poisoning, and I believe that’s what killed him.”

I congratulated myself I’d stayed clear of the dish made with curried rice, eggs, and fish.

Tamsin paled. If there was anything worse for a hostess than having a guest shuffle off this mortal coil under her roof it was the notion that her household was to blame for it.

“At this moment, this is all just speculation, “Angus said. “I suggest we keep calm. It’s what Caleb would have wanted and until the police have arrived –”

“The police?” Claire shrieked.

“Well, of course I had to call them. We have a dead body in our midst. Any death under suspicious circumstances, or any death at all, can’t simply be ignored.”

“I told you it was food poisoning.” Douglas pressed his hand on his stomach.

His wife whimpered. “Oh, darling, I could have lost you.”

Angus pressed his lips together. “I'm quite sure the post-mortem will confirm whatever caused his death.”

His wife hugged herself. “How long will it take for them to arrive?”

“That's the other issue.” Angus put his arm around her shoulder in a protective manner. “See for yourself.”

We all legged it to the window. Outside, a blanket of snow drifted from the sky, burying every inch of ground with an even thicker layer than before.

Angus said, “If this goes on like this, it might take a wee while until the police and the ambulance can reach Taverner Castle."

12

Tamsin buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Is there anything we can do at all?” Diana asked.

“Nothing, “Angus said. “Except wait.”

“And keep busy.” Diana took a deep breath before she turned to me. “We could assist you with looking through the albums, if you tells us what to look for? It’ll be a useful distraction.”

“I'm sorry, that’s not possible,” Angus said. “The photo albums and the diaries you’re interested in are kept in that room. Well, the ones that Caleb didn't have in his possession for research purposes.”

Adriana slumped in her seat. “Can’t we at least have those? Genie?”

She was right, I had to ask. “So, those would still be available? Where did he keep them, the library or his room?”

Claire and Douglas shut me a shocked glance. Under normal circumstances I’d have shared their sentiment. It was heartless to ask, or it would have been, if those things weren’t potentially so important for my great-great-aunt. “Like Diana said, it would distract us,” I added.

“It would,” Diana agreed. Owen pulled her close. She let her head sink against his chest.

“I’ll have a look,” Douglas said. “With a tidy fellow like Caleb, it shouldn’t be hard to put my hands on his research stuff. I didn’t notice anything when I went to bed, but then I wasn’t really in the right shape to do so.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Angus said to me. “We can try our luck in the library. It’s likely that he’d have carried everything with him to his new room. He took his responsibility very seriously.”

“Even if it was for only one night?” I asked.

“Both suggestions are worth checking,” Douglas said.

I nodded. Silence fell.

Adriana drummed her fingertips together. “I don’t see anybody moving. Get a wiggle on, guys.”

“I’ll go up to the library,” I said.

“I’ll come with you.” Tamsin gave me a weak smile.

“And I –”

“You’ll go back to bed and stay there until a doctor has seen you.” Claire mopped her husband’s brow with the handkerchief from his breast pocket.

“She’s looking at him like a cow with her calf,” Adriana said. “Everyone can see he’ll be fine and dandy in a twinkle.”

Silently, I agreed. Then again, how would I feel in Claire’s shoes? She’d already lost one husband she loved, and a dead man in the house must remind her not to take Douglas’s wellbeing for granted. She might be overreacting, yet it was somehow also sweet to see her devotion.

I followed Tamsin upstairs. Somehow, the library looked a lot less inviting. “I didn't mean seem heartless,” I said, in a clumsy effort to stop her from thinking the worst of me.

“I know,” she said. “Don't worry. Caleb would have understood. After all, that's what he spent his life doing, figuring out history and following the smallest clue to our past. This means a lot to your family, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I can't even begin to tell you just how much it matters.” While Tamsin and I talked in the center of the room, Adriana had already flitted over to the desk where he’d been working only the day before. “I don't see anything of Caleb's things here,” she said.

I considered using our Morse code method again, but tapping out a long conversation was beyond me, and even though she would never admit it, also beyond Adriana. “Don't let me keep you if you've got other things to do,” I said to our hostess. “It must be hard for you to have something like this happen.”

“I still can't believe it,” she said. “Caleb was always so hale and hearty. And now he’s gone.” Her voice trembled.

“Does your friendship go way back?”

“I've known him since the day I met Angus. They've been friends forever. I dread having to break the horrible news to his mother and his sister.”mHer pain was palpable.

“Do you have to do it?” I asked.

“It would be much worse for them hearing it from a stranger.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don't know. If only the police would arrive. If only - if only we knew. If it was that kedgeree –" Her breath caught in her throat.

“I'm so sorry,” I said again.

“Yes, so am I.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Are you sure you don't mind if I run off?”

“No, not at all. Honestly, I think we just all want to do something to keep ourselves distracted.”

“That's true. I'll see you soon.”

I sank onto a chair.

Adriana hopped onto a table. A deep furrow creased her brows. “There’s something fishy about this and I’m not talking about the kedgeree.”

“Don’t say that. Despite our own experiences, only a tiny percentage of deaths are caused by foul play. We’re definitely overdue coming up against perfectly ordinary, natural causes.”

She snorted.

“It’s not that far-fetched,” I protested. Deep down though, I had the horrible feeling she was right. How likely was it that food poisoning would affect two people in the group so differently and with such a long delay?

She closed her eyes and fluttered her arms around.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Concentrating. There’s something trying to get through to me. Now, if you’d stop blocking the airwaves?”

I shut up, without pointing out the obvious fact that she’d started the conversation.

I’d spend more than enough time in her company to realize that, her flair for drama aside, she cared a lot about people in general and me in particular, and all this was part of her way to distract me from Caleb’s demise.

“Over there.” She pointed towards one of the bookcases.

I followed the direction of her finger, higher, and higher, until my head was tilted back far enough to hurt my neck.

With a determined expression, Adriana rose off the ground, drifting a little to the left.

“I almost got it,” she said, trying to grab something.

“Do you need help?”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Coming.” I rolled the librarian’s ladder into place.

“Don't dilly dally,” my great-great-aunt said.

“Okay.” I gripped the ladder tightly as I climbed up, resisting the temptation to check all the lovely tomes on the shelves. To my surprise, they all seemed to have been read instead of just being there for show.I'd once been in a book shop where a customer asked the assistant for three yards of novels, ten inches high and leather bound in shades of gold and brown. The assistant had been struck speechless, as had I.

“Hello.” Adriana snapped her fingers in front of my face.“Show me.”She waved her hand around.

Of course it had to be a section on the top shelf. I grabbed the ladder hard with my left hand and pulled in my head so I wouldn't bump it against the ceiling. Any higher and I would have insisted on mountaineer’s gear. “Which one is it?” I asked.

“This one.” She tapped her finger on a slim volume in red.It had gathered enough dust to make me sneeze.

I assumed that the maids had more than enough to do with keeping the lower levels dust free. Climbing up here was not for the faint of heart. I pulled out the book. “Is that everything?”

Adriana closed her eyes and swayed from side to side. “I think so.”

“Otherwise, if you experience another tingle, I’ll climb up again,” I promised.

“Good.” Her voice faded a little.

“Are you sure everything’s alright? Are you feeling faint?” I did my best not to panic. We'd had episodes before when I’d worried about her continued existence. This wasn't as bad, but in addition to her strained voice she was pale and less sparkly than usual.

Which was not normal, especially if we really had come across something that had once belonged to her.

Step by careful step I climbed down. When I’d safely reached the bottom, I dusted off the book with my handkerchief.“Emily Post’s ‘Etiquette’. Wasn’t that all the rage in your era?” Even today I’d met people who swore on the tips which had become big business in their various updates. But this one must have been the book that started it all.

I opened it. On the flyleaf was a note in an old-fashioned handwriting, slanting to the left. It read, “Dearest Betsy. Don't forget, fish knives are for the middle class only. Now go and conquer the old world. With great affection, Rosalind Darling."

“I was there when she bought the book,” Adriana said. “We'd gone all the way to New York. There was a fabulous bookstore off Broadway, or was it off 5th Avenue? Anyway, it was the day after Betsy Grant had received the letter about her scholarship. We knew she was going to travel to England and Mom wanted her to have the best possible start.” She broke off.

“That was a lovely, thoughtful gift.”

“It was, wasn't it? I remember when Bella wrote to me how mean the girls in Switzerland could be if somebody used the wrong fork or knife. They’d be absolute warts.”

“I can imagine. I'm so glad we found the book.” Although it probably wouldn’t give my great-great-aunt much additional energy, it was another small keepsake that connected her to her sister and her mother.I leafed through the book. It had been read over and over again, judging by the creases in the spine. Who knew, maybe it had paved Betsy’s way in society and into the heart of her future husband.

I couldn’t tell if the snow continued falling. The skylight was blanketed completely. The thick walls swallowed any sound. It was easy to imagine us being all alone in the castle, trapped in a timeless place.

I strained my ears. Nothing. It was so quiet I heard my blood pounding in my ears.

Suddenly, I felt scared. Maybe because there was a body in the house. Or because Matt was gone, and frankly, Adriana and I didn't really know these people. That must have been what it was like for Betsy. Moving to a foreign country with foreign people, and foreign manners, not quite fitting in.

I shook myself. I was starting to become fanciful for no reason at all, but there was something eerie about these thick walls that had seen so much bloody history. “Let's go down,” I said to Adriana. “We've got the book, and that’s all that matters for now.”

Downstairs, more sombre silence greeted us, until an excited bark echoed through the hallway. Hamish bounded towards us, followed by an apologetic Tamsin.

“I don't know what came over him. He knows he's not allowed up here when we've got guests.”

I could have solved that little mystery for her. Adriana had come over him, or rather, he must have sensed her irresistible presence.

“That's fine.” I bent to stroke the furry little head. So did Adriana. Hamish’s tail went into overdrive with delight.

“He must feel cooped up,” Tamsin said. “He's used to being taken for long walks, even in the snow, except when it's as bad as today.”

“Are we trapped?” I asked, with a sinking sensation.

“No, at least probably not for long. But it will take the police and the ambulance quite a while to get through to us, so we can't go out with him.”

I gulped. Suddenly I felt the need for fresh air. I fanned myself.

“Unless - there's always the greenhouse. They used to grow oranges and other fruit there, for the kitchen. There’s also palms and ferns, a small fountain and benches to sit,” Tamsin said.

“It sounds great. But is there a passable path?”

“Ask her if we can take Hamish,” my great-great-aunt insisted.

I did.

“He’s allowed to play with his squeaky toy inside the greenhouse. Are you sure you won’t mind? He can be a handful,” Tamsin warned me.

“Absolutely sure. So, how do we reach this building?”

“There's a small passage between the kitchen and the old buildings,” she said.

Hamish woofed.

Tamsin gave him a find look. “I appreciate your taking him. I don't feel like I could leave Angus at the moment.”

“That's fine,” I said. “I’m happy to take care of Hamish.”

That was the truth; anything to distract us from the dead man, from missing Matt, from worrying when we'd see him again. I hurried to slip into my outdoor boots and wrap myself up as warmly as I could without having to raid Diana's wardrobe.

“Where is everyone?," I wondered when Adrian and I were alone with the dog.

“Probably in the drawing room or the morning room or one of the other fancy named places,” she said. “They'll be fine. Let's skedaddle.” With Hamish on his leash, we made our way downstairs, past closed doors that only let through the softest of murmurs.

In the mud room, I grabbed a dog toy. We headed towards the kitchen when we ran into the housekeeper. Her face had been drained of all color, but she managed a smile. “What can I do for you, Miss?”

“Umm, I was just trying to find my way to the old greenhouse. Lady Taverner said I could take the dog there.”

“Aye, the little scamp likes it in there just fine. If you’ll follow me?”

Instead of taking us to the big kitchen, she led us to a narrow passage beside it, leading towards the servants’ wing. Halfway there, she stopped and pressed a panel in what had appeared to be a solid, oak-paneled wall. Lo and behold, a door to another passage opened. “This'll take you straight past the servants' wing to the Conservatory.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You're very welcome.” Her words came out flat, like an automatic response triggered under whatever circumstances. The stiff upper lip lived on in British servants, no matter what.

I scanned my boots. I’d chosen them for long treks in the wilderness, which in my happy imagination had included walking hand in hand through glistening snow with Matt, with roe deer in the distance, and azure skies stretching across the horizon.

So far, only the snow met my criteria. At least the wind no longer howled like the blazes.

“One question, is that the only way back?” Hamish would enjoy a quick dash outside, and Adriana could be relied upon to keep him in check.

“Oh, no. You can also walk across the courtyard. Only in this weather it's much easier and much nicer to use the hidden passage.”

13

“Boy, did they like to keep the servants out of sight,” Adriana muttered.

I had to agree, although it probably also was easier for cook and the maids or whoever was employed in the good old days to pick the precious greenhouse fruit and bring it inside without it being exposed longer than a few seconds to the Scottish weather.

The door to the greenhouse opened without a squeak. Inside, metal pipes ran crisscross, supplying a room half the size of a squash court with warm air.It consisted of hundreds of single glass panes, connected in intricate geometric patterns. Palms and ferns were planted in pots, and citrus trees formed a canopy with their glossy foliage.

“Like Italy,” Adriana said in an awed tone.

I assumed back in the days a small army of gardeners had moved the enormous pots around whenever necessary. Today, wheeled trolleys still stood ready, yet the markings on the floor showed that the containers had stayed in place for a while.

Stone benches dotted the vast area. In its midst, a fountain tinkled. The water splashed and rippled over colorful rocks and pebbles. Without hesitation, Hamish jumped in.

“Come out,” I shouted.

“Let him have his fun.” Adriana gave him an indulgent smile.

“He'll catch a cold.”

“He won’t. We’ll take care of it.” She nodded towards a small cupboard.

“Are those towels inside?” I said.

“Yes.” She winked at me. To the dog, she said, “You can splash around, but don't damage anything, okay? And I want you out in five minutes.” His head bobbed up and down. “Right.” She arranged herself on a bench and patted the space next to her. “What are we going to do about the situation?”

“We'll wait. There's nothing else we can do.”

“Don't you think we really need to get a look at the photo albums and diaries?”

“I'm quite sure the police will open up the room soon enough.” A lump formed in my throat. “That is, unless –"

“Unless he really was murdered,” Adriana said.

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“You think the same. We’re the Darling detectives, you and I. We’ve never been wrong.” She tapped her nose.

Hamish jumped out of the fountain, ran over to us and shook himself. Droplets sprayed all over me.

“Stop that,” I said.

“He didn't mean to.” Adriana pointed towards the towels.

Hamish ran over to them. “I'll get them,” I said. “Tell him I do not want to be drenched. I've already had a shower.” I dried my face and then held the towel open for Hamish so I could wrap him in it and pat him dry. He moaned with what I hoped was gratitude.

Adriana raised a hand. “Stop. Say that again.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Not you, Genie. Hamish, say that again.” The little dog barked. Then he barked again.

Adriana gaped. “No. Really? That's interesting.”

“What is?”

She turned to me. “I’ll tell you but first he wants his squeaky toy.”

I flung him the object of his desire.

“Now, what is so interesting?”

“He told me the doctor arrived while we were up in the library. And Angus led him to Caleb's room, or rather, Douglas's room. He knows because Angus said so.” She added a dramatic pause.

“Go on.”

“Hamish says, when they came back down again, they both reeked of fear.”

“That can have many reasons,” I argued. “Maybe they were nervous because in this weather, there's no saying how long the dead body will have to stay in that room.”

“Hamish doesn't think so. He says he knows the difference when humans smell because they’re a bit nervous and when they’re afraid. The doctor smelled really bad, he says.” She arched her delicate eyebrows at me.

I admitted defeat. “We have to assume it was murder.”

“It looks like that. Which also means for us gumshoes –"

“That we do nothing. We are out of our league. And the police will sort everything as soon as they’re here.”

“I've heard that one before,” she muttered.

“Let's just wait. I'm sure –" I broke off. I wasn't sure of anything anymore, except that it was nice and pleasant here in the greenhouse. And that we were on our own. And also, that this was one place where we were safe.

A shiver ran down my spine. If Caleb had met with foul play, the murderer must be one of us.

14

When I told my great-great-aunt that, the little dog gently put a paw on my shin and gave me a sympathetic stare.He woofed.

Adriana giggled. “That's a scream.”

“What is? A moment ago, we were talking about murder and now you’re having a ball.”

“It's only what he said.” She touched my hand. “Say it again. She can hear you now.”

Hamish looked at me with this marble bright eyes. “I was just saying we’re all in Barney.” He looked at my great-great-aunt. She gave him an encouraging nod.

“Barney Rubble. Trouble for you.” He rolled his eyes at me.

I couldn't help but grin.

“See?” Adriana said. “He sounds so, so funny. Not Scottish at all.”

“I think that's cockney,” I said.

“What do you expect, that I speak as snotty as that cat? I’m from Battersea, not Buckingham Palace.”

“The famous animal Rescue?”

“Yeah, duh. London born and bred, that’s me. Me and me bruvvers were dropped off at the door before our eyes were open.The gov’nor brought me 'ome with 'im.”

Adriana exhaled. She broke off the contact with me. In an instant, Hamish's words became mere yapping again.

“I hope he's not right, which is another reason to keep our noses out of the whole affair,” I said. “The last thing we need is trouble. We only have a few days left until Christmas, and then we’re leaving. I'd much rather not get on the radar of a cold-blooded killer. They're bad enough when they don't sleep under the same roof as you.”

Hamish barked.

She giggled again. “He says not to get your knickers in a twist. He's going to guard us. He says he can smell –"

“Barney,” I said, in an attempt to make light of things.

“Exactly.”

Hamish danced around as my phone rang.

“It’s Matt.” I bit my lip. “What do I say? I don’t want him to worry.”

She gave me an exasperated headshake. “Start with the sweet talking stuff and then give it to him straight.” She threw a left hook. “He's used to us having to deal with dead bodies.”

Actually, she was right.

“Hi, babe,” I said into the phone.

“How are you coping?” Matt asked.

“You've heard already?”

“I had a couple of messages, yes.” He sounded worried. “What on earth is going on?”

“It's probably nothing,” I said. “People die of natural causes all the time. And if it's not nothing, at least it's got nothing to do with us.” Was I starting to babble? I hastened to add, “There is no need for you to stress about, really. We'd much rather like to know, how are you?”

“I'm staying in town tonight. According to the forecast and the services, tomorrow the major roads should be cleared so I can get through with a four-wheel drive. Unless you want me to try to make it tonight.”

“No, that’s much too dangerous. It's really piling up outside. And honestly, there is no danger for me. Or for Adriana.” “Are you absolutely sure?” I hadn't told Adriana that there might be consequences if we found what we were looking for and solved the mystery of her death once and for all. Only Matt knew.

I beamed at my great-great-aunt, who was scratching Hamish’s back. I’d read that other people could hear if you were smiling, fake or not. Hopefully, my upbeat mood put Matt’s mind at ease. “We've got a new friend here, a dog, and if there's any barney, he swears he can smell it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You know what barney is?”

“Barney Rubble. Cockney rhyming slang for trouble.”

“Got it in one.” Through the glass panes I saw one of the maids approaching. She hunched her shoulders as she battled the onslaught of the snow.

“I've got to go now. Honestly, babe, we’re just peachy, hunky dory, no need to worry. And anyway, you'll be with us tomorrow. Bye.”

“I hope you didn’t freak him out.” A tiny crease marred her forehead. “I think you overdid it a little with the babe stuff.”

“I only wanted to prevent him from rushing out to save us and skidding off the road.”

I lifted Hamish and pressed him against my chest. He protested, the same way he had when I’d carried him before. “Sorry, buddy.” My hopes we could take a gentle turn outdoors, as Jane Austen’s heroines called it, had been dashed at the first step. I’d sunk in more than halfway up to my knees, and that on a path that had probably been cleared in the morning, if I compared it to the surrounding areas.

He protested again. “The snow is too deep for you to walk in,” I told him.

“It’s not that. You forgot his toy,” Adriana told me.

I bent to pick it up the blasted thing, used my elbow to open the door, and called out to the maid, “Go back to the house. We’ll be there in a few moments.”

“The poor thing must have been freezing there outside,” Adriana said. “Why didn't she come in?”

Hamish covered his eyes with a paw and yapped. Adriana's jaw dropped. “I don't believe it. She’s afraid of you?”

That sounded ominous. “I thought British people are all dog lovers, unless they’re allergic, like Owen? What did Hamish do?”

“He stole – borrowed her boot, while she was putting her foot in. Literally.”

“He didn’t bite her?”

“He’d never do that. She took a tumble onto her backside, that’s all.”

I held Hamish tighter. “Don’t you think of playing tricks on me, buster.”

He snuggled against me.

15

I changed out of my winter gear in the mud room. The big question was, what to do with the dog. If the maid really was afraid of him, it would be cruel to hand him over to her, or the housekeeper who’d surely pass him on.

Oona, the second maid, sorted that problem. She took his leash and said, “I’ll go and feed him now, Miss Genie. Luncheon’ll soon be served.”

Dog-less, Adriana and I hurried to join the others. At least, most of them. Douglas was missing.“I hope your husband's recovering,” I said to Claire.

"Fingers crossed. The doctor insisted on examining him, after he heard about Douglas’s gastric trouble.”

“The doctor’s still here?”

“Yes,” Angus said in a tone that didn’t invite further questions from me.

“I hope the police will arrive soon,” his wife fretted.

“Surely if the doctor can get through, they will too,” I said.

“He lives only a couple of miles away, in the village.” She rang the bell. Parkins entered with the inevitable tea tray.

“Thank you,” she said. “That will be all for now.” She filled cups for all of us, not bothering to ask who wanted anything.

Unusual, I thought, especially since serving tea or any hot beverages right before lunch seemed odd, but I didn't want to go into it. Noises in the hallway caused Angus to leave the room.

In his stead, Douglas arrived back in our midst. A slight film of sweat glistened on his brow. Other than that, he seemed to be fit again. His wife gave him a peck on the cheek. “There you are, darling. Please tell me you didn’t give the doctor any trouble and let him do his tests.” She wagged her finger at him. “Douglas hates a fuss when it comes to his health, so I have to urge him to take things seriously.”

He harrumphed. “I told the doctor there's no reason to do any tests at all. Whatever didn’t agree with me has taken its natural course.”

“So, he did nothing?” Claire gaped at him.

“He insisted on taking a blood sample. But honestly, I don't see any reason for all this fuss. The lab staff will have more than enough to do over the holidays. They're already short-handed as it is, from what I've gathered. I hate the idea that I add to the workload unnecessarily.”

“Nonsense.” Claire stroked his cheek. “Better safe than sorry, I always say.”

“You’re so right, but that’s men for you,” Diana agreed.

Parkins glided into the room and whispered a few words to Tamsin.

“You'll excuse me,” she said, with a smile that couldn’t hide her worry.

Adriana raised her eyebrows at me. “Curiouser and curiouser.” Without asking for my opinion, she flitted out together with Tamsin.

It would have been too odd if I ran after them, so I stayed put and sipped my tea.

“Would you prefer coffee?” Parkins asked, obviously in deference to my not being British.

“Yes, please.” I gave him a blinding smile.

“I'll have a cup of coffee myself,” Diana said. “And for Owen as well, am I right, darling?”

“I’ll see to it straight away, Madam.” With the butler gone, an uncomfortable silence fell. As delightful as this room was with its period flair, and decent heating, I'd have preferred large windows to offer a distraction and maybe to watch for the arrival of the police. That really shouldn't take this long, should it? Unless they did not consider our current situation urgent.

I wish I remembered more about the state of the roads after we’d left the motorway. But then I'd been three quarters asleep when we arrived. I also hoped that Matt had the good sense to check twice that the condition of the roads was fine before he set off again.

We sipped our coffee, or tea respectively, without exchanging a word.

I had the impression I wasn't the only one lost for subject to talk about. The weather, usually a harmless and reliable topic, seemed a little fraught at the moment. I noticed the cards propped up on the mantel. “How do you celebrate Christmas in Scotland? Is it so very different from the way it’s celebrated in the rest of the United Kingdom?” That should be a harmless enough subject for a conversation, I reckoned.

Claire put down her cup. “Have you been here before during this time of year?”

“Ages ago, when I was a teenager, we spent the festive period in London.”

“Then you will not notice much difference.” Claire pressed her lips together.“We don't really go into all these crackers and Christmas jokes stuff. The big thing really is Christmas lunch and the King's Speech and watching it on the telly. In our family, we follow that with a long walk, and later, Mass.”

“Weather permitting,” Douglas said.

“It’s very kind of the Taverners to have us over the holidays,” I said.

“They love company. Since their boys left, we’ve all spent Christmas here. It’s almost a tradition. Newcomers are always welcome, too, of course.”

Douglas said, “I hope you're still here for Hogmanay? If you haven't spent a New Year's celebration in Scotland, you haven't lived, I always say.”

“Unless you're a teetotaler. Then you hate it,” Owen chuckled.

“Is it so very boozy?” I asked.

“Oh, it can be, my dear, it can be.”

“Right. Interesting.” That was the last thing I needed, with a ghost who had the tendency to become tipsy after a few nosefuls or drops of liquor.

I made a mental note to check with Matt what exactly our plans were for New Year’s.

Right on cue, the very same ghost materialized through the solid oak door. She looked flustered although that could have been a trick of the light. “You won't believe it,” she exclaimed. “Can you excuse yourself? So that we can chew the fat for a moment?”

I winked at her to confirm. It had taken a while, but she had mastered the art of reading the room and figuring out when not to spring information on me in a manner that made me forget we were not alone.

We passed the bedroom with Caleb inside. I averted my gaze. In the bathroom I locked the door and ran both taps, in case anyone came close enough to otherwise overhear me having a lively discussion with myself.

“Alright, hold onto your hat, Genie.”

Adriana sat on the rim of the clawfoot tub and dangled her legs. “Angus told Tamsin that the doctor said he'd called the local police and asked them to inform the serious crime division, if that’s the right name, and that they better get a wiggle on.”

“Already?”

“Oh, yes. Because he found a feather in Caleb's mouth and a pillow with faint bite marks on the floor. Other stuff too that sounded ominous.”

“He was smothered?”

“That's what the doctor suspects.”

16

I gulped. “But how is that possible? The room was locked until Parkins opened it with the spare key.”

Adriana sparkled at me. “Don’t you see? There was a spare key.”

“Then the police should get to the bottom of this fast enough. All they need is to figure out who's got a motive and who could easily put his hand on the key or have a copy made.”

“That would be everyone,” Adriana pointed out. “We’re the only ones who apparently are not regulars in this joint.”

“At least there can't be any suspicion falling on us. That's something. Once the room has been officially searched and opened up again, I’ll ask Angus if I could borrow anything Betsy Taverner left behind. Fingers crossed it won’t take forever.” I focused on my aunt’s slightly troubled face. “Remember, eyes on the prize.”

“Abso-bally-lutely,” she said. “I wouldn't dream of interfering unless we are needed, or the police are too slow.”

I knew that determined expression of hers. It did not bode well for my near future. I only hoped that the Scottish police had a sense of humor. Otherwise, I foresaw a few sticky situations.

But that was neither here nor there. Once again the gong rang out, to announce lunch. While I didn't have any appetite at all, courtesy demanded I put in an appearance at the table. I was relieved to see that soup and sandwiches were all we were offered today.

“I hope that's sufficient,” Tamsin said.

“It’s perfect,” Claire reassured her. “At least it's a meal that we can easily interrupt once the officials have arrived.”

They did, while I’d nibbled half a sandwich and noticed that nobody else appeared to have much of an appetite either.

Parkins’ features were suitably blank as he announced the arrival of the law. Yet, I noticed that he had increased his speed a little. Not so much that you could call it hurried, but his was not the leisurely pace he’d demonstrated before.

Angus put his napkin aside. “Please stay seated, I'll take care of everything.”

“I'll go with him,” Adriana said.

I tapped my fingers on the table. On long and one short tap, a pause, then three long taps. N – O. No.

Adriana pouted but remained where she was, next to me. We waited for a good five minutes until Angus returned in the company of a man around my age who found Adriana's instant approval. “He’s a swell,” she declared.

With his broad shoulders, curly brown hair and confident smile he looked very much at home in these surroundings. That is, until he opened his mouth and said: “My name’s Detective Inspector Davieson from the Specialist Crime Division. Lord Taverner has kindly allowed me to set up an interview space in the games room. I’ll see you all shortly, one at a time.”

“Is it only you?” Tamsin asked, surprised.

“Me, Detective Sergeant Waters and Constable Reedy. The crime scene investigators will hopefully be with us shortly.”“What about – Caleb?” Tamsin reached for her husband's hand.

The DI bowed his head an inch in a manner that showed both respect, and sympathy, while demonstrating he was in charge. “Don't you worry about anything, Lady Taverner. Everything will be done exactly by the book. As you will know, investigations can be a nuisance, but if you're innocent, you've got nothing to fear.”

“Innocent?” Diana gasped. “Are you saying poor Caleb was murdered?”

“We cannot rule anything out at this moment.”

“I'm sure you’ll all agree that this is the best course of action,” Angus said. “I’ll take you to your room, Detective Inspector.”

“Thank you, Lord Taverner,” DI Davieson said.

“I wonder who'll he talk to first. Do you think he's got handcuffs with him?” Adriana's imagination galloped away with her. To be honest, so did mine. Did I really believe any of the people in the castle could be a murderer?

The why and the who were the missing parts of the puzzle. We couldn’t dismiss the locked room completely, until we found the spare key, but we’d concentrate ion the other two questions first.

“Are we going to wait here together until it's our turn to be given the third degree?” Diana asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Owen took her tone seriously. Maybe he was rattled by the idea of a murder investigation. “Don't be nervous, my darling. I'm sure it'll be nothing but a few perfectly harmless questions. Like the Detective Inspector said, the innocent have nothing to fear.”

“Except a long interminable wait,” Claire said to her husband. “I remember that horrid fraud investigation when they looked at half the stockbrokers in the city. You complained that nothing was worse than sitting around waiting for a call that never came.”

“We could play a game,” Diana suggested.

“What kind of game? I doesn't want to appear heartless, but I must admit I wouldn't mind passing the time without having to think about what's going on in the interview room,” Claire asked.

“Bridge,” Owen suggested. “Surely a rubber of bridge is acceptable under these circumstances.”

Since I’d never learned that particular card game, that counted me out. I looked around.

There was a certain lack of enthusiasm that greeted his suggestion. “Can you think of anything better?” he asked in a resigned tone.

“Not off the top of my head,” Douglas admitted. “Let's play a rubber or two.” He took a deck out of a drawer and opened the four flaps of a table that had caught my attention before, with its inlays of box wood that formed ornate foliage. Once open, the table was covered in green baize and ready for genteel card games.

With Tamsin, Claire, Diana, Owen and Douglas, they had one too many for their rubber.

Tamsin offered not to play. She joined me on the sidelines. “I'm so sorry that you were drawn into this particular mess,” she said.

“It's not like you could have foreseen anything. I only hope everything will be cleared up and you can breathe again.” I gently squeezed her hand, omitting the fact that I probably had a lot more experience when it came to coping with crime. And criminals.

“Thank you.”

17

We shared a moment of companionable quiet, until a young police woman knocked on the door, opened it wide enough to poke in her head and said, “DI Davieson sends his compliments. If we could see Ms. Darling now?”

“Me?” My mouth dropped open. I’d have thought I’d be at the bottom of the interview list, given my lack of real connection to the castle and the current inhabitants plus guests.

With all eyes on me, I marched to the door.

Adriana fell into lockstep with me. “You’d think they’d leave the constable behind. They could cook up all kinds of stories behind closed doors.”

I shrugged. I’d thought the same. Then again, they couldn’t be everywhere at once. Another police woman whom I took to be the detective sergeant, led the decidedly unhappy staff towards the drawing room. The remaining snow on his back and reddened face suggested she’d only just arrived.

“I want to go home to my mam,” muttered the Hamish-fearing maid.

“It’ll be fine. Just answer DS Waters’s questions,” the housekeeper told her.

“Where’s the dog?” I asked her, as we passed the group.

She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Downstairs, having a wee nap. He can’t stay there on his own.” The constable motioned her to move on.

“She left him in the dungeons?” Adriana bristled.

“I’ll take care of it. Excuse me, Constable?”

The young woman stopped. “Yes, Ms. Darling?”

“If we could take a small detour to the dungeons? It’s Lord Taverner’s little terrier.”

“You want us to fetch him and bring him to his lordship?”

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible. Owen Ferguson is allergic. I thought, I could look after the dog? Unless the Detective Inspector also has an issue.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s an unusual request, but I don’t think there’s a problem. Unless there is a particular reason why the wee beastie is kept in the dungeons? I did hear that right?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He's a sweetheart as far as I can tell you.” With her permission we rescued Hamish from the hardship he encountered, dozing under a blanket in a soft basket in a spot close to the wine cellar.

“It’s too cold for him,” Adriana declared.

I agreed. The room temperature might be ideal for wine and whiskey, but for a warm-blooded creature it was decidedly on the chilly side. I assumed the blanket was supposed to help with that, but I decided to have a word about the situation with Angus when the opportunity arose.

Hamish stirred as soon as we came within five yards of him. His eyes popped open, and he shook off the blanket with what I could only describe as happiness at the presence of my great-great-aunt.

“Come on, buddy, “I said and clipped the leash on him. “Now we're ready to face the music.”

The Detective Inspector had set up a makeshift office with a phone to record everything we said, and a scanner for fingerprinting. I’d encountered them before, in Cobblewood Cove.

“Ms. Darling.” He shook my hand in a firm manner and the constable toddled off, no doubt to guard over the remaining people. “If you’ll take a seat.”

I did. Suddenly, my heart beat a little bit faster, and I clung tightly to Hamish. He’d decided he'd like to be a lap dog, especially since that allowed Adriana to stroke him. “What can I help you with?”

Hamish licked my cheek.

“Hamish, no!”

The DI glared at me. “Excuse me?”

I was confused. Hamish wriggled.

“Hamish!”

A grin flickered over the Detective Inspector’s face. “You’re talking to your furry friend.”

“Of course. You didn’t think … Your name is …”

“Hamish Davieson, yes.” We shared a small chuckle before he became all business again. We went over my personal details and then he asked the time-honored question. “How well did you know the deceased?”

“I only met him for the first time when we arrived. That was two nights ago.” The realization hit me. How could it only have been two nights? So much had happened since we set foot in the castle.

I shook myself. “I had a couple of conversations with him. He was a very interesting and pleasant man. We shared the same interests in family history, and he told me a bit about the castle and Bonny Prince Charlie and such.” I swallowed.

“That's all?”

“I think so. He was mostly interested in his work and in keeping the past alive.”

Hamish licked my hand.

The DI continued. “And there is nothing else you remember, anything out of the ordinary that happened? As a stranger you might notice things other people would ignore.”

“Why do you ask? Is there a specific reason or person you think of? Because I'd much rather not share the same roof with a killer, as you can imagine.” I didn't expect him to mention the doctor?s finding, but you never.

“Mere routine. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about, Ms. Darling.” A smile crinkled his eyes.

Adriana swooned. What a pity the Detective Inspector wasn’t a specter. No, I mentally slapped myself. That was not even a nice thing to think, only because I would have wished my great-great-aunt an enjoyable fling. Did that make sense?

I came back to the present as Detective Inspector Davieson asked, “What can you tell me about Mr. Cowper's relationships to the other people present?”

“They seemed very much cordial. I think he and Lord Taverner were old friends, and naturally the friendship then extended to her ladyship. Which then included the McIvers too. Claire McIver is the widow of Lord Taverner's brother, Diana is one of her besties, and she’s an item with Owen Ferguson. They're all a very close-knit group.”

“Not all of them,” Adriana hissed. “What about Caleb’s fight with whoever that person was?”

I gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

“You’re right, Detective Inspector. I almost forgot there was one person that Caleb had a beef with, or maybe it was the other way around.”

I tried to recall the argument we’d overheard as best I could.

“He did?” The Detective Inspector leaned closer.

“I overheard part of an argument. And it did sound threatening.”

“What exactly do you remember?”

“Someone promised to sort out something. And then –” I paused.

Adriana sprang into action. Her memory could be scarily accurate sometimes. She scowled as her voice became a decent imitation of Caleb’s warm burr. “If you won’t take care of it, I will. It’s a matter of decency and fairness. You can’t keep on selling lies.”

I repeated her, word for word.

The Detective Inspector tapped a pen on his teeth and pulled out an old-fashioned notebook. He scribbled a few hasty notes.

“Are you sure that’s what Mr. Cowper said?”

I nodded. “Is there anything else you remember about the other person?”

“I'm afraid not. That one sentence wasn’t enough to tell with certainty if it was a man or a woman., even less who it was. All I can say is, it sounded serious.” Hamish yapped on my lap.

“My things,” Adriana whispered. “You said yourself, eyes on the prize.”

I did my best to look charming. “It's probably a bit early, but how long does the crime scene technicians’ work usually last?”

“That depends. Why?”

“It's not very nice to think of Caleb’s body in room close to us. Also, Lord Taverner promised that I could have a look at personal effects from one of his ancestors. Betsy Grant was from my hometown, who came to England as a student. She's the reason I'm here. It sounds uncaring, I realize that, but if it would be just possible, to have a look at these things before I leave?” Adriana fluttered her lashes at him. I would have imitated her, except she resembled a movie star and when I tried her tricks, Matt thought I had something stuck in my eye.

“I can't make any promises, Ms Darling, but I will try to keep it in mind. Thank you very much for your help.” He gave me another smile that might have caused my heart to flutter a little if it weren't for Matt. He made a phone call. “Constable? I'll see Mr. McIver next.” He nodded at Hamish. “That's a nice wee terrier.”

Adriana and I both beamed. It was so much easier to bond with another animal lover. “He really is. It's just a shame when people have allergies. But I can’t complain, since I enjoy looking after him.”

We were excused when Constable Reedy returned with Douglas.

As soon as we'd left the room, Adriana asked me, “Don't you think I should stay behind?”

I considered it. I'd rather not be too far away from her, if she used a lot of her spectral energy. I asked the constable if it would be acceptable for me to stay in the next room, reading a book. “You see, I can't join the rest with the dog because poor Mr. Ferguson would probably break out in hives or sneeze his head off.This way you'll know where I am, if you want me.”

She frowned as she mulled over my proposition. “I don't see why not,” she said.

“Great.” I opened the door to the small snug next to the games room.It was furnished sparsely. The only thing in abundance were more portraits of bewigged or high-hatted gentleman and ladies. I assumed this was the part of the family gallery, showing those ancestors the Taverners weren't overly proud of. I decided I'd have a good close look at the pictures while my great-great-aunt spied on the interviews.

18

Hamish heaved a soulful sigh as he realized he was left with me. “She'll soon be back,” I told him. “Don’t worry.”

He didn’t look convinced. Then again, I wasn't too sure if he really understood me without Adriana being around. I turned my attention elsewhere. The family portraits proved to be less fascinating than I'd hoped, or maybe I was just preoccupied. All I could say was that Angus could consider himself very lucky that he did not take after the third Lord Taverner. That early Georgian era gentleman (I knew that much because there was a discreet plaque attached to the frame) distinguished himself through an abundance of fake beauty spots and a lack of chin.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, the latter could have been due to what I assumed was a very mediocre hired painter. Or maybe his good lady, who’d judging by her own portrait been blessed with either more beauty, a better artist, or both, had committed this crime against art herself.

Caleb would have known. I acknowledged a brief pang of grief for himself, but also for myself and my lack of emotions. I was so focused on Adriana and our mission that I hadn't shed a single tear over his death. True, I'd only known him for the briefest of times, and yet. I'd liked him. He'd been good company, and even if that hadn’t been the case, nobody deserved to die and be treated as an afterthought.

Heavy steps in the hallway interrupted my train of thought. I reckoned they meant the changing of the guards, or rather the interviewees. How much longer until Adriana would return?

Hamish sensed her before I did. He sat up on his haunches, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Adriana shook herself as she squeezed through the solid stone wall. “That was a lot trickier than I thought,” she said.

“Are they already finished?”

“Not even close. I thought I'd pop in and give you an update.” She petted Hamish who rolled over to expose his soft belly. She gave him a few rubs. I did too, in case he felt that we hadn't bonded enough.

“Spill, “I said. “I’m sure you want to be back for the next interviews before you miss too much. Unless it's too exhausting for you to go back and forth without using open doors?”

She shrugged her shoulders, but I sensed that she was more exhausted than she let on.

“We’ll see,” she said blithely. “Anyway, are you sitting down?”

“Really?” Since she could clearly see me standing in front of her, I assumed she had something astonishing to tell and only wanted to make it more dramatic.

She motioned me onto a chair and sat herself opposite me. “Have a guess”, she said.

“Somebody confessed? The doctor decided that he was wrong after all? Don't tell me that - no.” My mouth went as dry as the Sahara. Please, not this.

“No what?”

“Caleb hasn't returned as a ghost, has he? And told you everything?” Did she pause a little too long? I couldn’t read her emotions as she continued.

“Of course not. But I thought you’d like to hear what Douglas said, and I think he’s right.” Adriana cast a critical glance at the third Lord Taverner, he of the missing chin. “Gosh. Look at that bird.”

“Hideous, I know. Now, what did Douglas say?”

She fluttered her eyelashes at me. “Not much, only that if Caleb was really bumped off in his sleep, the goon snuffed the wrong guy.”

My jaw dropped.

“Think of it,” she said. “Caleb died in Douglas's bed, right? And I'm not saying that this castle isn't lovely, it is. It's the bee's knees. But it is not overdoing it with heating and lights. So, imagine you’re the murderer. You sneak into a bedroom where you expect to find Douglas. The man in the bed’ll have pulled his blanket up to his nose and snored peacefully, like you.”

I decided not to start another discussion about my sleeping habits.

She mimed her actions. “You grab a pillow. You press it onto his mouth until you’re sure he’s dead. And then you get your skates on and flee. Maybe he saw he bumped off the wrong guy, maybe not.”

“In that case, Douglas’s still in danger.”

“Not while the police are hanging around. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We didn't know that they had swapped bedrooms, and we followed on their heels.”

“That's true,” I admitted. “What did the DI say?”

“Interesting. That's what he said. Very interesting.”

“That’s an understatement. Remember when Douglas told us about almost being killed by a falling boulder? It’s possible that had been the first failed attempt.”

Now I understood why Adriana couldn't wait to tell me and why she left her listening spot. Seeing how listless she lounged, I was wondering if I should let her go back or if there was at least a way to make it easier for her. Luckily, I had a brilliant inspiration.

I marched next door, knocked and waited for the Detective Inspector to open it. “Excuse me,” I said with a winsome smile. “Did you call for me? I thought I’d heard something.” He gave me an inscrutable look, but I didn’t care. I’d succeeded. While the door was open, Adriana slipped inside.

“No,” he said.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Detective Inspector. I hope I didn't interrupt you.” I spun on my heel and returned to the snug, where Hamish yapped at me.

I hoped it was to express his admiration for my very clever tactic or that he wanted to say that he was fine, waiting with me for my great-great-aunt. It would have been nice to have inherited a smidgen of her pet whispering ability. Then I could have a nice long chat with a terrier. Better than staring at the portrait of people long since dead.

I prowled the room. In one corner, at hip height, I spotted a silhouette in black, cut by a master if I was any expert. If I wasn't mistaken, it showed Betsy Taverner. She'd not been model pretty, yet her strong features with a straight nose, a high forehead, and her chin length bob were pleasing enough.

I wondered what her silhouette was doing down there.

I looked around some more and found another of her husband, placed a few inches lower than hers. At least that's who I took it to be, considering I only had the photographs upstairs to go by.

It seemed oil paintings and full-length portraits had gone out of fashion with the Taverners together with Queen Victoria. Having exhausted this fascinating topic mentally, I settled down to wait. And wait some more.

I almost missed the arrival of the crime scene technicians. Only Hamish's bark alerted me of something going on. I popped my head out of the door.

Indeed, something was happening at the back where the servant staircase used to be. Technically, it still was, only now it was also available to the rest of the inhabitants. I hadn’t used it yet, but it came out on the landing next to the gentlemen’s bathroom. An unlocked door hid it on both ends from plain sight. From my vantage point, I spotted three people carrying up bulky cases with equipment.

I'd find out soon enough exactly what was happening. Adriana was better than any listening device. As long as I could keep her happily installed with the Detective Inspector, we’d be informed of any development.

With that in mind, I told Hamish to wait as I went to fetch a cup of tea. I was fast becoming acclimatized. I knocked at the door to the kitchen wing.

“What can I do for you, miss?” the dog-loving maid asked.

“I wonder if I could have a pot of darjeeling? I'm in the snug, with Hamish.”

“I'll be right with you, miss. Would you like a hot tea cake with it? Or a crumpet?”

“No, thank you. The dog wouldn’t say no to a few treats.”

“Aye, Miss.”

I legged it back as fast as I could, satisfied with the interaction. There was something so comforting and civilized about having a cup of tea. That should serve as ample proof that I was not up to anything and that my hanging around next door to the interview room had no ulterior motive at all.

I'd stopped kidding myself that Adriana and I would stay out of the case at hand. Our investigating – I resented the term meddling – wasn’t only for her sake, to ensure our access to the crime scene and all its hidden treasures. Sure, she was the most important part of the equation. But the search for her necklace notwithstanding, it felt wrong to sit on our hands and keep idle.

Maybe it was because so far we haven't been too impressed with the police when we encountered murderers, which had happened with frustrating regularity since Adriana’s return.

They always got their man or woman, but usually that success came down to our help.

I stirred sugar into my tea and then I took out my sketchbook. Writing down some notes on paper helped clear my mind and remember things.

DI Davieson had a good point. Adriana and I might notice instances that nobody else would, precisely because we were strangers. So, what did I know about the relations between people?

There had been a lot of strange looks between Caleb and our host, among others. I wrote, undercurrents.

Also, if Douglas was the intended victim, which with the boulder affair seemed convincing, what was the motive? You don't go around getting murdered because you’re such a nice guy and everybody loves you.

There was also the mystery of how the perp got away. It would be easy enough if one had a key, to sneak in and out of one's own and Caleb’s (or rather Douglas’) bedroom, if one were among the guests or the hosts.

That ease of access probably did not include the staff. They'd have to get out of their own wing and probably up the servants' staircase. Then they’d have to get back to their own quarters without anyone else in the vicinity noticing. Then again, it wasn't impossible.

What about an outsider? No, that was ridiculous. How would an outsider, point A, break into the castle, point B, find his way to his enemy's door, and point C, know exactly where to find him and how to disappear again?

I wrote down all these excellent thoughts.

So many questions, so few answers.

19

I kept my fingers crossed that my great-great-aunt had discovered a few things that would prove helpful. 

Hamish rubbed his head against my leg. He’d finished his handful of dog biscuits and peered at me. “Do you want me to draw you, buddy?”

A sketch of Hamish should keep my mind and my fingers busy while I waited. It would also make a nice present for my great-great-aunt.

I paused, my pencil in mid-air. There were only three sleeps left until the big day.

After the first couple of hours and with the pencil drawing finished, I started to become bored, so bored I considered a brief nap in the armchair. 

Hamish beat me to the seat and drifted off. I paced the room. While their work ethic could only be commended, surely, at some stage, the Scottish police would either finish their interviews, clock off for dinner or leave for the night? That was - where were they staying? Possibly at the castle, unless there was a village pub with bedrooms close by.

It would be interesting to have dinner with them, if dinner happened at all. At this stage, I didn’t want to take anything for granted. There was the additional question if Adriana's prolonged absence meant she was uncovering interesting things about the current state of the investigation or if she wanted to preserve her strength by not walking through the walls again.

Great, one more thing to fret about. At this speed, I'd return home not as a brunette but a very premature silver-haired sleuth.

Finally, I heard footsteps and soft laughter outside. Both boded well. After all, if police people - and I assumed it was them - were laughing, it had to be good news. I couldn’t imagine the butler, or the housekeeper, or the maids taking the liberty of guffawing in a stately home that was technically in mourning and quite probably also a crime scene.

Hamish’s paws twitched as he lay curled up. That was all the movement I detected.

I decided I’d better check if indeed the interviews next door had ended before I woke him. I peeked outside. Yes. The figures in the hallway were the Detective Inspector, DS Waters and the constable, followed by my very own sidekick. She turned around to give me a thumbs up.

My heart skipped an excited beat. She had at least found out something. It would have been great if the case had been solved by now, but then she wouldn't be shadowing the police. She'd be back with me, telling me every little bit. I decided to gently shake Hamish awake before I lifted him off the chair.

I did not want to risk him being startled and forgetting his manners with me. Considering the fearful maid Oona and Owen’s health issues, I picked up the dog and carried him upstairs to our bedroom.

To my surprise and delight, Adriana was already there, waiting for me. Hamish gazed at her adoringly. She stroked his ears. “This case is a doozy,” she said. “Talk about one twist after another.”

I plopped down onto the bed, shaking my head at the dog who tried to jump up next to me.

“What are you doing?” Adriana asked.

“I don't plan to share with a dog.”

“Horsefeathers. You let Cleo sleep on the bed.”

“That’s our home. This isn’t. It's only polite to mind one’s manners as a guest. Installing a terrier on the pillows does not fall under that category.”

She glanced around. “What about that drawer?”

“That would work,” I admitted. I'd only transferred the things from my pockets last night into said container.

Pulling the drawer out of the dresser and emptying it onto the bed was only a matter of seconds. Since fluffy towels in all different sizes had been supplied for my use, I only had to choose one to bolster the drawer.

“That's better,” she said. She made a soft noise in her throat and Hamish obligingly hopped into his new makeshift basket. Maybe I should ask for a proper dog bed later, I thought, but for now the drawer would do. “You mentioned twists,” I prompted her. 

She turned her head this way and that. “Do you hear something?”

“No, sadly not, or at least not what I’d like to hear, which is what you have discovered during the interviews,” I said, with maybe a teensy bit of an edge in my voice.

She furrowed her brow. “How much longer can they take in that room? I could take a peek inside.”

“Don’t. We have no idea if your presence would interfere with whatever they’re doing. You don’t want to throw electronic equipment out of whack, plus there's still a dead body in the room.”

“Right.” She gave in with good grace, only to break into a childish sing-song a second later. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Excuse me?” I said, taking not exactly offence, but also not pleased

“Not you,” she said. “Honestly, I think you and I, we're the only ones here who've got nothing to hide.”

Apart from the fact of her very existence, I thought, but that didn’t warrant mentioning. “Your twists.”

“It's a humdinger. Where do I start?”

“At the beginning?”

She draped herself across the bed and propped her elbows up. “How about Angus?”

“What about him?”

“Only that he lied to everyone about the reason Caleb was here, apart from being buddies.”

“He did?” My mind reeled. Was Caleb an undercover agent, only posing as a reputable historian and family genealogist? But why the subterfuge?

Adriana wrinkled her nose. “When I say lying, it was more sort of a fib."

I looked at her expectantly. “Care to explain?”

“Remember him going on about Caleb writing about castles and such? Well, Angus hired him to dig up Tamsin’s family tree, as far as possible.”

“Why would he not say that?”

“He told the Detective Inspector – and remember, I have no proof that it's true – that he wanted to surprise her with the results for Christmas. Her family has come from somewhere or other in the Empire. Was it the West Indies or India? Anyway, he's been handing over every scrap of paper that he could find. He said that Caleb was a genius when it came to following the trail with only crumbs of information.”

“That's a plausible enough explanation, and I think it's sweet that Angus thought of hiring Caleb for the job.”

“It is, isn't it? He was also doing the same thing for Claire, and a few other people. Or at least he would have done. Angus had talked to Claire about his idea for Tamsin’s Christmas gift and she couldn't think of anything better than to do the same for her darling husband.”

“Which is also sweet although isn't he also a nobleman? He’ll have a well-documented family tree, no matter if the Taverners rank higher.” I reconsidered. “There's always more things to find out.”

“Like with Belle, you mean.” For a second, she blinked back tears.

I silently cussed at myself for reminding her of her own tragedies. Time to change the subject back to the present. “That's not really lying, is it? I wouldn't tell anybody what I got –” I paused. I'd almost given the game away. “For people. I wouldn't tell other folks that I’ve made a pair of cufflinks for Matt, for example, or bought a vintage silk scarf for my mother.”

“Then, what about Douglas? He begged the Detective Inspector twice not to tell his wife that he thinks he was the intended victim all along.”

“Why not? Did he mention the boulder at all?”

“He did, and he pleaded with Detective Inspector Davieson to also keep that under wraps. He says Claire's very, very sensitive.”

I wasn't quite buying that description when I pictured Claire, who seemed about as fragile as Scottish heather which might appear delicate to some but was very hardy underneath.

“What did Claire say? Did she mention any fear for her husband?”

“Nothing like that. She’s willing to bet her bottom dollar that it was a natural death. She told the Detective Inspector she seemed to remember somebody mentioning that Caleb had a weak heart.”

“Caleb, the man who used to tramp across the countryside and climb the highest mountains in Scotland?” We both rolled our eyes in perfect sync. 

“Interesting, isn't it?” my great-great-aunt said. 

Indeed. Was Claire trying to sow doubts before the medical reports came in? Or was she desperate to pretend that nothing bad could happen in her world?

“Maybe she's still traumatized by her first husband's death, however long ago that was,” I suggested.

Before we could discuss whatever else Adriana had overheard, the dinner gong interrupted us. That sound was fast becoming an unwelcome fixture of our stay at the castle.

At least there was a small washstand in the bedrooms so I didn’t have to queue to wash my hands, although cold water in winter wasn’t my ideal. I used the opportunity to give Matt a ring before heading down. To my surprise, it went to his voicemail. I left him a message. “Hi Matt, I hope to see you tomorrow if the weather allows. Say hi to my luggage if it has arrived. Miss you.”

I finished the call with an uneasy feeling. Where was he? In all the months I’d known him, he’d never been unavailable without letting me know first. If only he hadn't set off towards Taverner Castle and ended in an area without phone reception. The weather was not fit for a long drive, especially if he couldn't call for help.

Stop it, I told myself. Matt was grown up, highly responsible, and he would never drive through snow and ice into the night without a very good reason and especially without telling me first.

I checked my phone for messages or missed calls. Nothing, including a complete lack of updates on my luggage. I pushed the thought aside, since there was nothing I could do about the situation. Whatever I was wearing would have to do for now, or Diana would help out again.

It was a very subdued, if police-less group that assembled for dinner. I only toyed with my roast beef with all the trimmings. We all did, apart from Owen and Angus who finished their portions without a problem. Douglas's tummy still appeared to be delicate. He hardly ate anything after the soup course.

We retired without pudding or cheese and nuts, in what must have been a rare occasion in the history of the castle.

We had all declined the final course.

“What is going to happen now?” Diana asked as we sat in the withdrawing room with a drink in our hands.

I’d accepted a small sherry. I'd taken my abstinence as far as I could considering the circumstances. Since Adriana was in full sleuthing mode, I hoped she would pull herself together and not get soused.

Tamsin squared her shoulders. “The police are staying in the old kids’ rooms. They have their privacy there, including an eating area and a workspace. I’ve told the Detective Inspector he and his staff are welcome to stay as long as necessary.”

“Do they share our bathrooms?” Douglas asked, touching his stomach. Understandably, the poor man didn’t cherish the thought of a queue in the hours of need.

“They’ve got their own,” Tamsin comforted him. “And I'm convinced that they’ll behave as discreetly as possible. So far, they've been nothing but considerate, especially under these circumstances.”

Claire gave a little cry. “But that’s the rub. What are these circumstances? Surely, it's all a wild goose chase.”

“We'll have to wait and see, but I don't think they believe it was a natural death.” 

Claire buried her head in her hands.

Her husband stroked her back. “Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm sure whatever is going on, the Detective Inspector will take care of everything. You're safe. You'll always be safe with me, I promise.”

Tamsin snuggled into Angus’s arms. Owen hugged Diana. It was a touching display of affection. At least it would have been if I’d been able to say with certainty that we didn’t have a killer in this very room. “If the Detective Inspector thought there was the slightest danger to anyone, he’d have sent for more support,” Tamsin said.

“If they can get through,” Angus said in a low voice.

“How bad is it?” Douglas asked. “Can the ambulance pass the snowpoles and remove the body?"

Angus gave him a tiny head shake as if to warn him off the subject.

“It's fine,” Tamsin said. “We all will be asking ourselves that question.”

“The Detective Inspector suggested that, once the crime scene people give their okay, the body will be taken to the old icehouse. We won’t have to sleep in Caleb's company.”

Diana paled. My stomach knotted as I imagined the sad trip.

“Will the crime scene people be finished soon?” Douglas asked.

Angus shook his head. “I don't think so. Luckily, with the doctor’s early examination and whatever they’ve been able to do so far, the Detective Inspector said they can at least go on without the body.”

20

“That was gruesome,” Adriana said.

We'd fled the rest of the group as soon as we could. There was nothing of interest to be wormed out of them anyway, at least while they were all together. If the police hadn’t cracked the case by tomorrow morning, we needed to figure out a way to talk to everyone in private, including the staff. That reminded me of a question I’d stowed away in the back of my mind. “During the interviews, did the Detective Inspector find out who Caleb had quarreled with?” I asked Adriana.

“No. I think he agreed that maybe Caleb was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Possible. But I think it's a bit premature to rule out anything.”

“It’s all a rum do.” She rubbed her nose. “Caleb didn't seem to be the quarrelsome type.”

Hamish's ears pricked up. He woofed. She knelt next to him and put her hand on his head. “What are you saying?” He woofed again. Her mouth formed a circle. “Wow.” She held out her hand to me.

“You can translate,” I said. Having to act as a conduit between me and the dog took a lot out of her. “You plug me in if it gets really interesting.”

She arched her eyebrows at me. “If you're sure you want to miss out.”

“I'm sure I want you to preserve your strength. You've been going through walls, and you've been away from me and your brick for a long time while you were –”

“Assisting with the investigation,” she said in a prim tone that could have fooled anyone but me.

“That's one way to put it.”

“It's so sweet of you that you’re worried about me, but I swear I’m peachy.” She flexed her slender arm.

I gave in. She touched the back of my hand.

I closed my eyes, ready to listen and try to understand the dog. “Can you please lose the Cockney a little?” I asked him.

He thumped his tail. “You want me to use my fancy words?”

Adriana said in dulcet tones, “That would be great. Genie here isn't a wiz like me when it comes to understanding cute slang. She’s not ditzy, only –”

“A bit slow on the uptake.”

My eyes flew open. I could have protested, but I didn't. I was willing to spend my time, mostly, with the family ghost. I was not willing to spar verbally with a dog. At least not over an unflattering and fundamentally wrong picture he’d been given of me. There’d be words later on, words uttered in private.

He sighed. “Okey dokey, it was like this. Caleb took me for a ramble, a couple of days ago. He liked to take a butcher's at a few things outside, to clear his noodle.”I scratched my head, trying to figure out that phrase.

“Butcher's hook. Look,” he explained. “Honestly.”

Adriana gave him a shrug that was probably meant to show him she sympathized with him, and the things they put up with for my sake. The cockney and the cocky ghost.

“Like I said, we were doing our rounds across the fields and the woods. You should go. Lots of rabbits there. I could chase them down, naturally, except I won't. It upsets Angus.”

“That's so considerate,” she said. “I'm glad you feel like rabbits are friends.”

“Well, I won't go that far,” he said. “But yeah, we have an agreement not to do anything that upsets the boss.”

“We?”

“Marmaduke and me. The kitchen cat?” He seemed slightly embarrassed by this confession.

“Caleb, “I said, before we completely went off the trail and ventured verbally into uncharted territory.

“Right. He started to mumble and repeat himself, and then I figured out he was practicing what he was going to say to one of the blokes in the house.”

“Do you remember what it was?” I asked, ready to forgive him his critique of my mental agility.

“Yeah, sure. It was something about still being shackled to the old ball and chain and lying about it.”

I silently worked on the translation. Was it possible there was a kernel of truth in Adriana’s judgement, that I was slow on the uptake?

Hamish shook his head at me. “Like, the bloke still had another mate at home while he was sweet talking the dame with the glossy fur and the long legs. Now, she’s a keeper, that one, always good for a couple of treats.”

That, I could figure out. “Did you sniff out who he was talking about?” I asked, more for confirmation than anything else.

“I think he was talking about the bloke who's complained about me.” Hamish bristled. “I mean, look at me. Do I look like the kind of dog who is shedding his hair everywhere?”

“No, you're not,” Adriana said. “I for one am glad that people think you are, because otherwise we wouldn't be allowed to have you here with us, would we? You'd be with Angus.” Her shoulders slumped. “Unless you'd prefer to hang out with his Lordship instead of us.”

“Nah.” He rubbed his head against her hand.

She blew him a kiss. “Isn't he a darling, Genie?”

I nodded, hoping that was just a figure of speech because we could not adopt Hamish. He belonged here. I removed my hand from her touch.

She relaxed. “That was a humdinger, wasn’t it?”

“It was. How do you feel?”

“A bit exhausted,” she admitted.

I thought so. Because I'm a very considerate person, I shoved the bag with the brick as close to her as possible.

“Ah.” She shifted her non-existent weight around until she leaned against it, to recharge.

“That's better,” she said. “What do you make of this?”

“It seems Owen lied to Diana about being divorced. I can see how that would put a guy like Caleb in a moral bind.”

“What a snake.”

“The question is, would Owen have gone so far as to silence Caleb, so he wouldn't expose him as a liar and cheat to Diana?”

“Worth finding out, isn't it?”

“Only, how do we convince the Detective Inspector to do it? I told him twice that there was no way that I could identify the person, and if I say I have it straight from the dog, he’ll order a straitjacket for me.”

“You’re slipping. Is it because you can’t reach Matt? Make something up, the way we always do.”

“Possibly, “I admitted. “Or maybe it's the whole atmosphere. I can't put my finger on it, but something feels, not dangerous as such, but –”

"Spooky,” she said.

“Yes.” We shared a wry grin, the very idea of a ghost, sensing something spooky.

I rummaged through the stuff from the drawer that I had emptied onto the bed earlier. It was a mess. For the gazillionth time I decided to become slightly neater.I set aside three cough lozenges, all individually wrapped, two pencils, a clean tissue, a tube of lip gloss, and a sheet of paper that I hadn't noticed before.

It was covered in weird squiggles and slipped in with a smaller notebook that I'd stuffed into my pocket yesterday. Yet it was definitely not mine. I tried to retrace my movements. “I must have picked it up in the library, when I talked to Caleb. What strange doodles.”

“Let me have a peek,” Adriana said.

I straightened the piece of paper for her.

Adriana leaned over it. “That’s shorthand.”

“No, it isn't.”

“Hah. Who's the one who has been taking courses both in Gregg shorthand, and in typing?”

“You.”

“Who’s the authority, then?”

“Also, you.”

She smirked. “Yessiree.”

In her real life, she'd taken classes to prepare for becoming another Dorothy Parker. I still used a notebook or my phone to write down whatever clever witticisms or rhymes she came up with to preserve them for eternity. “Fine,” I said. “You're the boffin. Tell me what this note says.”

She stared at it. Her forehead creased in tiny wrinkles.

At the back of the corridor, a bang gave us a start.

I was just dashing to the door to take a cautious glance outside, when my phone rang.

“Matt? Hey, babe,“ I answered it.

“I'm sorry you missed me earlier. I'd lost my phone charger cable.But now I've got a new one.”

I sank onto the chair. “I'm so glad to hear your voice. When are you setting off in the morning?”

“That's just it,” he said with an apologetic tone in his voice.

“Don't tell me it's still the roads?”

“No, I get the impression that the Scottish people are used to getting a big dump of snow up in the Highlands. No, it's the gallery. They want me for another round of discussions, tomorrow. I’ll have to stay in Edinburgh for one more day.”

“Oh,” I said, slightly deflated.

“Unless you want me to cry off –”

“No, no.” I attempted a tiny laugh, to show him how absurd the idea was, that I’d put myself before his career. He deserved all the consideration, seeing how he put up with my whole ghost situation. “Has my luggage arrived?”

“I can pick it up tomorrow morning, so I'll definitely bring it back to you. That is, hang on,” he said. “There's a message from Angus coming in.”

“Right.” While I waited for him read it, I opened the door a couple of inches. I noticed the backs of two people, carrying a stretcher. Caleb was leaving the castle for the last time.

It gave me a jolt to the system. “Things that go bump in the night,” I uttered inanely. I must have said it loud enough for Matt to catch it, because the next thing I heard from him was, “I think I should cancel the client's appointment after all.”

“Why?” I asked. “There's nothing that you can do here.”

“There is. I can protect you. Angus has received a message from the doctor. It was murder.”

21

His words echoed in my ears although he only confirmed what Adriana and I knew. Only - “Why would the doctor inform Angus? Isn’t that the job of the police? And he only did a quick examination. There’s been no post-mortem yet.”

“You know how it works in small places. Everybody knows everyone and I think he's been working with the police often enough for them to be able to confirm his suspicions with the information he provided.” He sounded grave. “I'm scared for you, Genie. I’m sure you’re already knee-deep involved.”

“We have to be. We’ve been in dangerous situations before,” I said. “No harm has ever come to us, right? Don't forget, I've got Adriana watching over me.”

“You do.”

We both fell silent for a moment.

“We are looking at an inside job,” I said.

“It looks like it,” he replied. “Seriously, sweetheart, you're more important to me than any client in the world.”

“I know.” The problem was, I felt the same about him and letting him return while there was a killer on the loose would put him put him in danger as well. It was for his sake that I preferred him to stay away from what soon became a danger zone.

On that sobering note, we ended the call.

“Are they all gone now?” Adriana asked me.

I listened closely. The men were no longer audible to me. If Adriana didn't pick up anything either, they must have left. I nodded.

“That means I could go in and search.”

“Are you sure you're strong enough?"

“Of course.” Again, she flexed her biceps.

I considered my options. “I'd hide in the bathroom with your brick, except it's the gents’ and it might be a bit tricky to explain if somebody noticed me coming out. Or I could lurk in the hallway.” I had another idea. “What if I hang out on the servants' staircase?I could pretend I have dropped something if one of the policemen comes around.”

“I'll be peachy. You can be such a worrywart sometimes.”

I pondered this. She was right. I still didn’t like it one bit though. “Can you at least make it quick? Only long enough to see if either something is calling out to you, or you can spot the photo albums or the diaries? Remember, I can't help you pick up things from the shelves. All you need to do is locate them and let me know. Then we can think of something together. Understood?”

“Yes, boss. I'll be all hotsy totsy.”

“Famous last words,” I muttered, while my stomach knotted.

“Oh, come on.” She tapped me on the nose.

For the briefest moment, I experienced the sensation of the touch. My tension eased. It meant that Adriana was at peak energy levels. She’d need them. These were serious walls that could easily double as a castle defence that tested even the most powerful specter. The builders and craftsmen of yore had meant business.

The constable was lingering outside Caleb's bedroom door. She gave me a weary look as Adriana flitted past her. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Darling?”

“I thought I had lost something in the hallway.” I bent and pretended to pick up the pencil I’d kept hidden in my sleeve until this instant.

Darn and blast. Constable Reedy had me so flushed that I used up my emergency excuse straight away. There was no way now I could hang out on the boxed up staircase without her wondering what I was up to.

Adriana oozed through the door without so much as a moment’s hesitation, even though I had to trudge to my bedroom. I stifled a scream. Now I’d stress every single second until she was back with me, and with Hamish, who picked this moment to complicate the situation further.

It appeared I hadn't closed the door properly, so he squeezed through and ran up to me.

With a panicked look, I picked him up. “What are you doing out here?” I scolded him. “I'm so sorry,” I told the Constable. “I'll keep him under lock and key, from now on. We won’t interfere at all with whatever you’re doing.”

She gave me a curt nod.

“Is anything wrong?” I asked her. “That is, apart from the obvious.”

She pressed her lips together. I got the impression she was under orders not to spill the beans. If the doctor had already been told it was murder, the police officers in the castle would have been the first to confirm it with the crime scene guys.

Interesting, I thought. Was the Detective Inspector trying to keep us all in the dark to spring a trap? Or was he preparing his statement? It must be a little bit awkward having to deal with the local aristocracy in a case that was bound to make countrywide headlines the moment the news came out.

With the dog firmly in my arms, I beat a retreat. I kept Hamish distracted with stroking and a handful of treats until my great-great-aunt returned. I left the door slightly ajar so she could save some energy. Also, it helped my already stretched nerves to watch her enter a room the normal way, which she did now.

“What have you found?” I asked.

She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Close the door.”

I mentally face-palmed. I'd forgotten the first rule of Ghost Club. Obediently, I shut the door.

“The better question is, what have I not found?” She paused.

I hoped it was more for a dramatic effect and not to regain her strength. “I’m all ears.”

“Do you remember how seriously Caleb took his work and how he took great care not to lose anything?”

“Sure,” I said.

“There’s not a single sign of it. Not a single scrap of paper or a letter or other documents. Do you think the police have taken them?”

“It's the only explanation. Which begs the question, why?” We shared a poignant look.

“What about the other stuff Angus told us would be in the room, the diaries and albums? Surely that’s not on its way to the crime lab?” I pondered.

“They’ve locked all the cupboards. There are a few things that look like they could be photo albums inside one with a glass door. Except, I didn't feel anything. All I sensed was sadness.” She shook herself.

“It's fine,” I said. “It was worth a try. I’ll ask Angus again, or the Detective Inspector. We only need to be a little patient. If we're lucky, the information we’re looking for is already hidden in Caleb's work materials or his notes. They’re bound to be returned as soon as possible to the rightful owner, which is Angus.”

She perked up. “Absolutely. It's all going to be peachy.”

Hamish's ears pricked up.He yapped.

“Quick,” my great-great-aunt ordered me up. “He says there's somebody sneaking across the hallway.”

22

Again, I carefully inched open the door and peeped out.

“It's Douglas,” I whispered.

He reached for Caleb's door handle, then paused and knocked instead. The constable came out of the bathroom. He stopped in surprise and cleared his throat in a nervous manner. “I was wondering,” he said. He broke off.

“Yes, Mr. McIver?”

“If the room is, I mean, if he - what I want to ask is, could I pop in for a minute and pick up my clothes?” He looked down on his outfit and pulled a faintly disgusted face. “I'm afraid this is all I have to wear for now, Constable. As you can imagine, one would like to put on fresh attire, since our room swap was only meant to be for one night.” He looked at her with a comical expression, very much in the Bertram Wooster manner that had Adriana and me in stitches when we listened to the Wooster and Jeeves audiobooks.

Ah, the British upper class. Death and murder could be taken in one’s stride, but the very idea of having to put on a shirt that was not fresh had them in a tizzy.

Constable Reedy inclined her head a little. “I'm afraid that's not possible.”

“It'd only take a minute,” he pleaded, another endearing trait. I had the sneaky suspicion the police officer was more accustomed to the upper class throwing their weight around, judging by her visible softening. “I'll check with the Detective Inspector if I can bring you some clothes.”

“I’d appreciate that. Or I could go with you? It’ll only take a minute?”

She shook her head. “I have my orders. ButI’ll talk to my DI.”

He lingered for a moment before he gave in with good grace. Considering how I felt about my still missing luggage, even without the strict etiquette rules he was used to, he had my sympathies. Nevertheless, the thought of wanting to rummage around in full view of the bed where one of his friends had died made me shiver.

“What was that? Stiff upper lip?” Adriana giggled.

“Probably,” I whispered. I shut the door. “Have you any idea yet what Caleb wrote?”

Adriana pursed her lips. “Give me a moment. It's not like this is that easy to decipher. It’s Gregg shorthand.”

“That tells me nothing,” I asked.

“It means that everybody uses it differently. If you've got an idea what he was writing about, it's so much easier to figure out from the context.”

I shook my head. “You lost me.”

“Think of Hamish and the way he speaks. It's not everybody who can understand him, but if you do the meaning is perfectly clear.”

“So it's kind of a code that is different for everybody who's using it?”

“That’s exactly what it is. You use it phonetically too. I’m sure I can crack it, if we can find the clue to the context.”

“And if we don't have the right idea?”

“Then we are pretty much up the creek without a paddle, and it might as well be ancient Greek.”

That did not bode well for our investigation.

I patted my pockets. “Where's my sketchbook?” I asked.

"I haven't seen it," Adriana admitted.

"Darn, I must have left it downstairs.“

"Is that a problem? You’ve got at least a dozen of the things.”

True as that observation was – I told myself it was proof of my artistic leanings and preparedness and that leaving one of them behind had nothing to do with lack of organisation – I needed that notebook. “I’ve taken a few notes in it so I'd rather it doesn't fall into the wrong hands.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” She hopped off the bed.

Hamish barked. “You’ve got to wait for us, sweetheart,” she said. “We have no idea who's running around downstairs.” He dropped his head onto his front paws, the very essence of sadness. My great-great-aunt wasn’t the only loss to the acting world.

With her in tow, I crept down the staircase. I had no idea why I tried to be as silent as possible, only that somehow my skin prickled, as if there was danger afoot. Which was ridiculous considering the contingent of police loitering about.

I'd reached the interview room when I heard the Detective Inspector say something inside. His voice was too low for me to decipher his words, but I thought he had a serious tone.

I made a snap decision and knocked.

“Yes?” He opened the door.

“I'm sorry to disturb you,” I said. “I wanted to let you know that I've got to pick up something from the snug, before you think I'm an intruder.”

“Why would I think that?” A hint of a smile curled up his lips.

Adriana fluttered her lashes. “He’s swell.”

I ignored her growing infatuation, as personable as the Detective Inspector was, to follow my spur-of-the-moment plan.

“I don't know,” I admitted. “I only wanted to let you know, so you’re not distracted if you hear me next door.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Darling.”

I gathered my courage. “Is there any news?”

The pleased expression disappeared as if wiped off his face. “Why are you asking?”

“Yes, Genie, why are you?” Adriana put her hands on her hips.

“Because I had a phone call,” I admitted. I took a gamble it would stand me in good stead to come across as the kind of honest, upstanding person that one would want to confide in and also maybe overlook the occasional trespass in the future.

Adriana caught on. She winked at me.

“From whom?”

“From Matt. My boyfriend. He left when Caleb was still perfectly well. He’s heard that the doctor’s suspicions have been confirmed.”

The Detective Inspector’s gaze flitted towards the locked door.

“Matt’s worried about the situation, and to be honest, so am I. Should I barricade myself or not?” My voice shook a little.

He gave me a sympathetic look. “You’re safe enough.”

I pressed a hand upon my heart. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“I also haven't forgotten about the other thing we were talking about,” the Detective Inspector continued.

“Oh, yes?” I allowed myself a glimmer of hope.

“I will keep it in mind as soon as the scene of crime will be available again.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, a genuine one. “That shouldn't take too much longer. Should it?”

“That depends on the progress of our investigation. I'm keeping the room sealed until I've decided whether I need more support from the Major Crimes division or if we are equipped to handle everything here.”

More support? Was he implying he was stumped?

“I was just wondering –” I faltered. Had Douglas’s hemming and aahing rubbed off on me? I plunged ahead. “The thing is, it’s quite possible that important information I'm looking for might also be included in Caleb's red ledger, in which he was writing down his progress on his various jobs.”

Adriana nodded at me, prodding me on. “It probably sounds crazy, but Lady Taverner, the one I told you about, might have been the recipient of a valuable necklace that belonged to my great-great-aunt originally. If that’s the case, I promised my mother to trace it and buy it back for her. If not –” I swallowed. “If Lady Taverner hasn't had that necklace in her possession when she left Cobblewood Cove for England, it's possible that it was the object of a robbery. A robbery that in the end cost my great-great-aunt's life. She was only 21 years old.”

Adriana gasped. Her face drained of color. I don't think I'd ever explained my suspicions to her in such blunt terms, that her death and the necklace might be closely linked. Anyway, I would have loved to spare her feelings, but we were also running out of time before we had to leave the castle.

“What red ledger?”

“The one from the bedroom,” I said. “Caleb invariably took everything with him, in case something would get lost otherwise. He was very conscientious. He told me so himself, and I've heard it confirmed from other people. So, if your people have bagged the ledger as evidence, maybe you or the constable could look through it? The necklace was a choker with a pearl drop pendant.”

His brows drew together, until there was only a fraction of an inch between them. “I'll check with my people,” he said. “Until I've done that, I'd be much obliged to you if you wouldn't speak to anyone else about this or anything your boyfriend has told you.”

“Of course not,” I said, doing my best to appear as trustworthy as the Bank of England.

“I appreciate your discretion. Good night, Ms. Darling.” He discreetly opened a file in front of him.

I lingered for a second, until Adriana confirmed that she'd be fine to stay behind.

If I was right, the Detective Inspector was checking a list of all the things that had been bagged for the crime lab. Hopefully it would tell us if the ledger was still in the castle or if it had been sent off already.

I assumed the technicians had clocked off for the night, or for good after sealing the room off. As far as I knew, only the Detective Inspector and his two assistants for Angus lodged in the castle.

He gave me a sharp glance as he still saw me idling on the spot. With a sweet smile, I swept out of the room and next door, where I picked up my precious notebook from the snug while I waited for my great-great-aunt.

She arrived out of breath, or as out of breath as a ghost could technically be.

“You won't believe it,” she panted. “There is no entry about Caleb's work or his phone in the files.”

23

I made sure the door to the snug was firmly closed before I answered. “Do you think it's possible he left everything behind for once, when he swapped lodgings? Including his phone?”

“That’s why we need to check Douglas's room,” she said blithely. “Get yer skates on, lass.”

Her relapse into a sprinkle of Scottish was accentuated by a few steps of what she probably took for a Highlands reel. It made a change to her beloved Charleston.

“Excellent idea. Only –" I looked at my phone to check the time of day or rather night. “He's probably already in bed and I don't think that you want to march in there while he's asleep or whatever he's currently doing.”

“But we need to do this fast. You said yourself how important this is.” Her lip trembled and my heart went out to her.

“First thing tomorrow.” I raised my fingers for a pinkie swear. “We'll strike when he goes down for breakfast.”

She hesitated a little, yet she had to admit that my argument was sound. We had more than enough to think about until we did a little light reconnaissance in Caleb’s former room. Tonight, there was no chance that we might put our hands on Caleb's notes anyway, apart from the one that we had in our possession.

Somehow, I had the curious feeling that if only we knew what it said, it would help us. Caleb had been deeply interested in what I told him about our very own Lady Taverner. Was it possible he had extended his own research to look into any connection to her as well? It seemed as if he was used to juggling multiple topics at the same time and they did fit in well together, with the history of the Taverner brides through the ages, leading up to Tamsin, and with his passion for the story of the Scottish lairds and the serving classes, and whatever happened to those who had been disowned or executed for treason.

On the other side of the border, other, less lethal dangers had lurked. Queen Elizabeth I had the tendency to visit castles with a huge entourage, and the preparation alone had bankrupted more than one noble family. She’d been famous for inspiring building works and opulent purchases of decorations she either never saw or graciously accepted as lavish gifts. Adriana had regaled me for weeks with her new-gained wisdom.

For a split second I wished Caleb would materialize as a specter too. They’d make a cute ghostly couple. No. I shook off that thought.“Let's go to our room,” I said. “Then we can put our thinking caps on.”

We only came as far as the first suit of armor, when suddenly a soft moan stopped us. It turned into ghastly wail rising in the empty fireplace. I clutched my throat, unable to utter a single sound.

Adriana, my unflappable great-great-aunt, shrieked, something I'd never heard her do before. She melted into the suit of armor.

My heart pumped so fast I could feel the blood pounding in my throat. What on earth was able to spook a ghost?

The Detective Inspector came running so fast, he skidded on the last step.

The housekeeper followed at a more careful pace. “I'm so, so sorry,” she gushed. “I have no idea how that happened.”

“What is going on?” the Detective Inspector demanded.

“Lord and Lady Taverner kindly hosted a Halloween event earlier this year, and this was one of the tricks. It's a recording. I have no idea why it was left behind and what triggered it.” Mrs. Brodie reached into the fireplace and felt around in the flue. “There it is.” She held up a small black box.

My heartbeat slowed to a normal pace, and the Detective Inspector’s strained features relaxed.

Adriana came out of her hiding place. Her jaw dropped as she saw the black box and she bristled with indignation. Right on cue, the wail started again. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

The housekeeper pressed a button. “I have no idea what's going on,” she said.

“Is it battery operated?” I asked. “Maybe there's an electrical fault in the system. I’d take them out if I were you.”

She did.

The Detective Inspector turned his back on me and marched off.

I followed my great-great-aunt who flitted upstairs at top speed. When we were alone, I asked her, “Did you trigger that thing?”

She shuddered. “I might have,” she said. “Except, there was something else first. The moan.”

Now I shuddered as well.“Something else?”

“It came from the dungeons. Like a wall of sadness, engulfing us.”“

Another trick?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

She shook her head. “Genie, I think it was real.”

“Please, don't tell me that you want to go down to the dungeon with me.”

“Not right now.”

“Good, because I think it would be a great idea to wait until Matt is back. You can hide inside that suit of armor. I can't, if anything with tentacles and three heads pops out of the walls.” I stopped, aware that I was talking nonsense.

“Don’t be silly. You think that Matt would be able to save you from something with three heads?” She paused. “He's a sheikh, alright, but I think you're exaggerating a little.” That was rich coming from a ghost prone to histrionics.

I looked at my hands. They were still shaking a little. I clasped them so they were steady. “Have you ever experienced anything remotely like it before?” I asked her.

“No.” She shook her head. “That's what scared the bejeezus out of me.”

Hamish lifted its head. He was curled up in the makeshift basket. He barked once.

Adriana's eyes widened. “He said it’s real and it's a little girl.”

“What is real?”

“The moan.”

24

I had no idea how it happened, but I sank onto the bed. “There are ghosts here, other than you? Ask him please.” My voice rose into something too close to a screech for my own comfort.

“There is nobody like me. I would know that.” She patted her glossy curls in an attempt to act normal. But I could sense that deep down, she was uneasy.

Hamish yapped.

“Yes,” she said. “That's what I experienced. It's like an echo of someone, and grief. Melancholy, too.”

“But there’s nothing to be afraid of?” I asked her. Were that my teeth chattering? I snapped them together. She was the only specter I'd ever met, and sadly, she hadn't come with a manual on how to look after your new ghost. But just because I’d never met another ghost, it would be crazy to believe there couldn’t be others who were possibly only visible to people with a close connection to them.

Equally, it was just as likely that there were evil-spirited among them, like with living people.As much as I loved my great-great-aunt, I wouldn't want to meet any more ghosts. Definitely not.

I had another thought I did not appreciate having to deal with. “Don't tell me that we’ve been chosen to solve the mystery of the moaning little girl.”

“I don't think so. It felt like a super old echo, like maybe something that happened centuries ago. It's a very old castle, after all.”

“That's true.” I breathed easier.

She draped herself on the bed, next to me, and gazed soulfully into my eyes. “It could be it's got something to do with Caleb's death. Maybe he found out something about this little girl before he was bumped off.”

And there we were again, back to where we started with Caleb’s death. Which meant, the first order of things would be to figure out who really was the intended victim. “Did Douglas say anything else to the Detective Inspector about why somebody would want to see him dead?” I asked her.

“He confirmed that there had been trouble over an investment scheme one of his former partners had set up, with lots of people losing their money. The DI dug it up on the internet.”

“That sounds like a pretty good motive to me,” I said. “Except it’s a pretty tenuous link, unless the whole countryside is crawling with folks who invested with Douglas's exclusive stockbroking company, which is ridiculous to consider.”

“I didn't buy it either."

I nodded in agreement. “As much as I'd love to think that some outsider broke in, committed a murder in a locked room and disappeared again without a trace, it's not likely, is it? I think we better start figuring out what we can say for sure and then separate fact from our speculation.”

I took out the notebook that I had saved from the snug and opened it on the page where I'd left off. The writing swam in front of my eyes. Maybe I was a lot more tired than I’d thought. I decided to let my subconscious work on the problem while I caught some shut-eye.

I advised Adriana to do the same, or at least save her energies and recharge a little. She didn't sleep as such, but she did tell me that once in a while she sort of faded, if that was the right expression. Otherwise, she'd be more than happy to watch over Hamish playing as well as me.

The little dog had already dozed off. He snuffled in his sleep. “He's so cute,” she said. “I wonder what Cleo is doing right now.”

“I miss her too.” The little tabby who waited for us in the Darling villa was part of our happy family. She was also indispensable, since I couldn't spend all my waking hours with Adriana and even less all my sleeping hours if I wanted to have anything resembling a private life. The fact that she had such a close connection to pets helped with giving her a worthwhile afterlife. At least I hoped so. For now, having a small terrier nestling in a drawer filled the hole in her heart.

I hoped that Angus would let me keep Hamish with us until we had to say our final goodbye to Taverner Castle.

My subconscious had obviously gone on strike because in the morning I was no further than the night before. I waited until I heard Douglas knock on his wife's bedroom door.“Coming for breakfast, sweetheart?” he called out.

“One moment,” she trilled.

“That’s a heck of a chipper sound for somebody who spent the night in a murder house,” Adriana said. She tapped her nose. “I think that's mighty suspicious.”

“Possibly,” I admitted. “Or she is happy that Caleb was the victim, and her husband is alive and well.”

“Hmm.” She harrumphed and started for the door.

I held her back. “Let's give them a few minutes.” I loitered with intent in the hallway while my great-great- aunt entered the deserted bedroom to snoop around.

“What are you doing here?” Diana asked.

I spun around. I hadn't noticed her coming up to me at all. “I'm studying this picture,” I said pointing at a watercolor whose only value lay in the fact it supplied me with a pretext. It showed mist curling above Ben Nevis, with a stag roaring by a babbling brook. I could easily identify the mountain and the rest, because a plaque on the frame said so. “Ben Nevis with babbling brook.” The artist’s signature was illegible.

“It's pretty vile, isn't it?” she whispered.

I answered with a non-committed shrug.

“I believe it's an heirloom, painted by a Victorian relative. Nobody had the courage or the heart to throw it onto a bonfire.”

“It happens a lot,” I said. “I had a craft-obsessed great aunt who made up in cataracts what she lacked in both good eyesight and good taste. Still, she was a dear, not a darling, as we used to say in the family.” I gave a tiny guffaw, to demonstrate how not at all preoccupied I was.

Diana chortled. “I'll see you downstairs.” She waved at Owen, who made his appearance dressed in black, as befitted a house in mourning. Had he prepared for the sad occasion, or did he schlep around an extensive wardrobe when visiting a castle? I made a mental note, considering we hadn’t ruled him out yet.

As I watched them disappear down the staircase, I had to fight the urge to bite my fingernails. I didn't dare leave here, not with Adriana still inside the room. I, plus the vital brick in my purse, were her support. Luckily Diana hadn't asked me what I was doing with the large purse dangling over my shoulder, if I was only waiting to go down to breakfast.

Finally, my great-great-aunt reappeared, unruffled and only a tad slower than usual. We retreated to the sanctuary of our bedroom. “What have you found?” I asked.

“He's a slob,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Who? Caleb?”

“No. Douglas. Everything was a mess, even worse than you when you're in one of your creative spells. The wardrobe stood open, and some of Caleb’s clothes lay at the bottom, with empty hangers above them. And don’t ask about the towels. All over the wash-table and the desk.”

I could imagine Douglas frantically searching for a shirt or sweater that fit him, after the constable had sent him away empty-handed, and then ignoring everything apart from his stomach-ache. He was used to someone cleaning up after him, too. “What about letters, books, notes, maps, the ledger, or other things Caleb used for his research? Or his phone?”

“Not a scrap,” she said. “Whatever he had, it's not here.”

“Shoot.” Bewildered, I scratched my head. “There must be a reason why all these things have disappeared. Do you think there’s a connection to the murder?”

Adriana goggled at me. “Say that again.”

“You heard me very well the first time. “

“You said, shoot.”

“I did.”

“The shots! The poacher. Wasn't Caleb supposed to be the only witness against him? And with him out of the way, he’ll be home free instead of on his way to a prison cell.”

25

“I had completely forgotten about him,” I said. “How's that even possible?” It reminded me of another thing I had forgotten.“Let's think this through, before we go to see the Detective Inspector.” We sat side by side.

Hamish ran up to Adriana and me. He put his paw on my leg and tapped twice. Adriana took my hand, and just like that, I heard Hamish confirm our suspicions. “If it's the bloke who caused all that barney, the one with the stinky gun? Yeah, he was here.”

“Are you sure?” I asked the dog.

“A new-born puppy could’ve smelled the stink he left behind.”

“Here, in the castle?” Adriana asked.

“No, outside in the greenhouse. You know, where you took me to chase a ball for you.”

I felt a surge of excitement. “Do you remember when that was?”

He raised a paw to scratch his head. “Not long ago. A couple of days? Ask the cat, he'll know. Marmaduke knows most everything what the housekeeper does. That woman keeps a handful of treats in her pockets, so it pays to know where she is going at all times.”

“The housekeeper? Is there a connection?”

Hamish gave the canine equivalent of a shrug. “I’ve told you what I smelled. Go, see the cat. Tell him I sent you.” He winked at us.

Adriana let go of my hand. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

Neither did I, and I wasn’t sure if the Detective Inspector had thought of that angle. Which meant, our next stop after breakfast would be to find the elusive cat to interview him. I needed as much information as possible to take to the Detective Inspector.

What had my life come to, with murder, mayhem, and putting animals on the witness stand?

“Genie.” Adriana snapped her fingers. “How much longer do you want to dilly-dally? We’ll miss breakfast and you know how grouchy you get when your tummy is hollow.”

She was a fine one to say that. Although she didn't eat as such, apart from a crumb or two when she was full of proverbial beans, she loved food, or rather, the smells. “Coffee’ll do for me.” I had no intention of skipping the first meal of the day, but sometimes she needed a little reminder of the many things I did for her.

She sucked in her cheeks. “I’m a trifle peckish.”

“I thought so.”

I picked Hamish up. “Breakfast time for you too, my friend.”

Since we were the last at the breakfast table, we did not linger very long. I had a helping of scrambled eggs with Scottish salmon, washed it down with several cups of strong coffee, and then I thanked the maid who started to clear the table.

“The others are in the yellow withdrawing room,” she told me.

“Where is that?” I asked. There were so many rooms in this castle that I did not intend to get lost unless it was on purpose

“You turn left in the hallway, go down the back corridor, take the short staircase, and then it's the third door on the left. You can't miss it.”

“Thank you,” I said again. I wiped my mouth with napkin and folded it neatly. “That was excellent.”

“I'll tell Cook.” The girl seemed visibly pleased.

I rose and so did Adriana, who was still licking her lips. “Do you think I could pick up the dog again for a walk?” I asked the maid.

“I'm sure Mrs. Brodie will be very pleased if you take the task off her hands.”

“Where do I find Hamish? I hope he's not down in the dungeons again.”

“Och, no, miss, not the wee sweetheart,” she said. “Mrs. Brodie herself said as it was spooky down there, lately. No, there's a small run off the mud room. Haven't you seen that before?”

“I haven't,” I admitted. “

“That's where you'll find him.”

Adriana wiggled her brows at me. “Run, huh? And all of a sudden Mrs. Brodie doesn’t want anyone in the dungeons.”

“We’ll find Hamish,” I promised her. “Hopefully, we'll also find the cat.”

We did. Marmaduke throned in the mud room, on top of the bench, cleaning his paws with all the diligence of someone intending to enter a beauty pageant. His fur was glossy, his whiskers resplendent, and he looked far removed from the fleeing cat we’d first encountered.

“Hello, my pretty. You're a sight for sore eyes,” he said. Or at least, those were his words according to my great-great-aunt. I wanted to spare her the exhaustion of connecting us all three. I signaled her to go ahead and ask the questions we’d agreed.

She whispered in his ear. He meowed. “Marmaduke says that Hamish already told him what we want to find out. He says he's been wracking his brains without a break ever since.”

I’d heard that before. He wasn’t the first feline we’d come across in our investigations, and they all appreciated a tasty reward. “We’ll bring him a treat later. But first, to what results has he come?” I asked.

“He said the housekeeper and the man with the stinky gun met the greenhouse a couple of days ago. They had a long, long chinwag in the greenhouse.”

“Inside?” I asked.

“That's what Marmaduke said. He was watching them because he didn't plan to ask her for a nibble while the mean man was still around.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Only, why would Mrs. Brodie meet somebody who’s clearly not welcome on Lord Taverner's grounds, not to mention with the one man on the premises who was going to send him to prison or whatever sentence will be handled down for repeated poaching?” She uttered soft noises. The cat twitched his ears and chirruped.

Adriana's jaw dropped. “You won’t believe it, Genie. The poacher and the housekeeper are connected somewhere on the family tree. Marmaduke says that their ancestors were litter mates.”

I let that little nugget sink in. If this information was correct, the housekeeper could have been very well the person who helped organise the murder of Caleb.

Adriana remembered another piece of evidence. “We saw her come along and pass the men when Douglas said they were arranging the room swap.”

“It would be good to know if she overheard them, or if they arranged with her to have anything swapped, like the duvets or pillows. She also would have been the best person apart from the butler to get her hands on the spare key. It would have been so easy to let him inside and palm him the key and wait for it to be dropped off with her again. Nobody would have been the wiser.” My stomach knotted together at the thought of Angus. What a horrible, horrible idea that his own staff had conspired to murder under his roof - or committed it herself.

26

Marmaduke slunk off, after a renewed promise to bring him a portion of cooked liver. If cook didn’t have any, I’d ask Matt to bring some back with him.

The maid had been right. Hamish was in the run next to the mud room. He came bouncing along as soon as he spotted us. “Good boy.” I clipped on his leash. I needed fresh air. A short walk with him would clear our heads and allow us the privacy help to sort out what exactly to say to the Detective Inspector and how to phrase it so I didn't sound insane. Every inch of the landscape was covered in white, but the snowfall had long since stopped for good. I stomped my boots. I still sank in almost to my knees, but the crunchy snow under my soles and the glistening sun would have been fun under normal circumstances.

I envisioned myself pulling a sled with Adriana on it, or starting a snowball fight with Matt.

A sigh escaped me.

“What are you thinking about?” Adriana asked. “You’re pulling a face as if you've swallowed a rotten batch of bathtub gin.”

“I want things to be normal again. Without any fears or suspicions. We're in Scotland, it's Christmas time, Matt’s not here, and we're having to deal with yet another murder.”

“Chin up. It won’t be much longer,” she said. “Now, tell me again what you're going to say to the swell Detective Inspector.” Obediently, I repeated my rehearsed text, again and again, until we’d found a version that appeared natural and held enough truth to hopefully convince him.

He greeted me with a cordial handshake before he sat behind his desk again. “Ms. Darling.”

“Detective Inspector Davieson.” I placed myself opposite the desk. Adriana perched on the tabletop, keeping a close watch on both of us.

“I'm afraid I haven't been able to locate the ledger you we're so interested in.”

“I imagined as much,” I said. “I believe the murderer stole all the papers and possibly also Caleb’s phone, where he kept notes, unless you’ve got that in your possession?”

He leant back in his chair. “What brings you to that conclusion, if I may ask?”

I glanced around to make sure that there was nobody who could eavesdrop on us. “Caleb was a scholar and a methodical one at that. He wrote down everything he deemed to be important. I saw it myself and he also told me.”

“I’ve heard as much already,” the Detective Inspector said.

“Have you also been informed that he was the only witness in a case of poaching, a case so bad the offender wouldn’t get off with a fine and a slap on the wrist?” I thumped the desk, to add emphasis to my words. “Isn’t it highly likely that he wrote down his observations or a witness statement? And that all his papers were stolen to hide the fact that one item was more important than the others? There might even have been an earlier attempt on him as well.”

“Go on,” the Detective Inspector said.

“I didn't think much about it at the time, but Caleb was a keen outdoorsman. Very much in contrast to Owen and Douglas. A couple of days ago, there were gunshots fired outside.” Now, I had his undivided attention. He leaned forward. “I was with Lord Taverner in the mud room at the time. He was going to run outside and chase the man, only his quarry was out of sight when he opened the door. But what if the gunshots were meant to lure out Caleb? It probably would have succeeded. He was the one person you could rely on to otherwise grab his coat, and run out into snow and ice, only in this instance he was in the library, immersed in his work.”

I paused, to catch my breath. “I don’t know much about poaching, but would anyone have risked Lord Taverner’s wrath, on top of the difficulty of bagging anything in this kind of weather? When the men searched the area, there were no blood spots, nothing that even indicated so much as a single hare being shot. I believe Caleb was the intended target. If he’d shown himself, he’d have been fired at.”

“That would still not explain how a poacher could get inside the castle and disappear again without a trace. It's not like he's a ghost.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Adriana. Was that just a turn of phrase or was the Detective Inspector sensitive to her presence? So far, Matt was the only human we knew who reacted positively to her.

“He could easily have had help,” I said. “Somebody who was also aware that the gentleman had swapped bedrooms for the night. Someone with access to the spare keys and with intimate knowledge of everybody's habits.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

Adriana rubbed her hands. “Oh, boy, this will blow his socks off.”

I allowed myself a fleeting smile. “I’ve overheard a conversation that made it obvious the poacher is closely related to Mrs. Brodie, Lord Taverner's trusted housekeeper.”

His reaction was everything we could have hoped for. He pushed back his chair and jumped up. “Are you sure?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Interesting. That’s a bit of information nobody else has bothered to share with us. Neither the person in question nor Lord or Lady Taverner.”

“I don't think they would have been aware,” I pointed out. “It's not like you would include in your CV that among your family is the neighborhood poacher, especially if you want work for someone as opposed to any form of hunting as their lordships.”

“Fair enough. But what about leaving behind traces? The murder happened in the wee hours, sometime between midnight and 2:00 AM. There’s no light outside. It would have been madness to venture into the darkness under these weather conditions."

Another inspiration hit me. “He didn't have to. Like I told you, the housekeeper was intimately acquainted with everybody's habits. And there are enough hiding places almost in plain sight, for example those gigantic fireplaces, or behind the suits of armor that are everywhere. All our bird needed to do was sneak inside the castle, via the servants’ wing, kill Caleb, and lie low. As soon as it dawned, he'd be off again. The snowfall was heavy enough to cover any track within minutes. Plus, there would’ve been no reason for anyone to look outside. If somebody noticed footsteps, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to say she had simply gone for a walk with the dog, or to check the weather.”

Adriana did a high kick. Automatically, I jerked back.

Luckily, the Detective Inspector was too busy thinking to notice my strange behavior.

“It fits,” he said. “It fits well enough. Thank you very much, Ms. Darling, for your support. If you hear anything else of interest, feel free to come and see me.”

“I will,” I promised.

“Smooth as silk.” Adriana danced alongside me, as we left the Detective Inspector to take care of the necessary final steps in his investigation.

“I didn’t expect that. It's a nice change,” I said. Usually, we either had to run rings around the local law enforcement or had a hard time convincing them to take any action. The Detective Inspector though proved to be different, a smart man with an open mind and a well-developed sense of responsibility.

I couldn't bring myself to join the others in the withdrawing room.A little bit of solitude wouldn't come amiss for my great-great-aunt, and Hamish as well. After all, I’d promised not to cross Owen’s path with the dog by our side.

I wondered how long it would take the Detective Inspector to wring a confession out of the housekeeper. I hoped she was only an accessory after the fact. If her poacher relative had persuaded her all he intended to do was steal the papers that could incriminate him, she might have fallen for it.

“That won’t wash,” Adriana said when I explained my thoughts. “He could have been able to testify in person, unless he was silenced for good.”

“She seemed so nice,” I said. “Well balanced, too.”

Hamish whined. He covered his eyes with his paws.

“He liked her, too,” Adriana said. “You'll find other people to give you treats, right, my lad?” She patted Hamish until he cheered up. “What shall we do now?”

I grimaced. I didn't feel like doing anything while we waited for the inevitable storm to break, when handcuffs were taken out and the full horror of Mrs. Brodie’s murderous duplicity became common knowledge.

I put on one of Adriana's favorite audiobooks, with the inimitable Jeeves saving his master Bertie Wooster, in my opinion the quintessential male damsel in distress.

While Adriana listened and giggled in all the right moments, I took out my sketchbook.

I wanted to finish at least the preliminary drawing of my glamorous family ghost flirting with a knight in shining armor. I could decide later if the open visor should show us a dazzling Cary Grant, or silent movie star John Gilbert, or another charming man. Sketching was a good distraction. Otherwise, my mind would run around in circles until I had a headache, without changing anything at all.

A couple of hours later the pencil dropped from my cramping hand.

“Can you pause?” Adriana asked, to my satisfaction. We’d agreed after the incident with the Halloween recording, that she should keep her ghost powers away from electrical things. I could have brought my ingenious Faraday’s Cage into play, if it weren’t for the side effects. The shawl slowed her thinking, a sensation she disliked.

The narration ended mid-joke.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Listen closely.”

I did. “Are those footsteps?”

She nodded in confirmation.

I poked my head outside. The housekeeper was showing the Detective Inspector the entrance to the servants’ staircase, up which I suspected the poacher to have crept to his victim’s door. Mrs. Brodie bestowed a wan smile on the Detective Inspector.

“What's going on?” Adriana asked. “She doesn't look very guilty.”

I had to agree. The Detective Inspector, too, didn’t act as if he’d nabbed a cold-blooded villain, unless he was setting a trap for her. Only - how would that work? He knew the things I told him would be easy enough to corroborate. No, something was wrong.

He must have sensed me because he turned around and gave me a tiny head shake before I close my door.

“If it wasn't the housekeeper, then who was it?” Adriana asked. “Do you think there's a copycat?”

"You mean because of the gunshots?”Then her words triggered my grey cells, finally. “A copycat. We must have been blind.”

“That's what I said.” She gave me a confused look.

“Copies. Caleb told us, he always made a copy and kept it somewhere safe. What are the odds that the murderer took all the originals, but he either didn't know about a second set of papers, or he couldn't find Caleb’s hiding place?”

27

We high-fived each other.

Adriana twirled around, in an energetic Charleston. “Yessir, that's my baby.”

I let her finish her song and dance routine. “The question is, where do we find them? We can't very well search the whole castle without anybody noticing.”

“We'll figure it out,” she said. “We always do. All we must do is try to think like Caleb.” She pressed her fingertips against her temples. “Ommmm.”

I interrupted her. “What would he have done to keep the documents as secure as possible? What did he know that nobody else would think of straight away?”

Adriana shrugged her shoulders. “He knew the castle layout, but so does everybody else here, apart from us. They’ve all been here oodles of times.”

“I'm not so sure, although I believe you’re on to something. I reckon the servants will know their way round a lot better than the guests. Unless –” I paused. It had seemed so plausible that the housekeeper would have smuggled in her villainous relative through the same passage we had taken when she had shown us the way to the greenhouse.

I should have figured out right away that she was innocent, because then it would have been stupid to show us how easy it was to get through the servants’ wing to the main part of the castle.

Yet something else stirred in the back of my mind.

“Adriana, do you remember what you told me about all the old castles and secret passages?”

“You think the papers are hidden in a priest’s hole?” Her eyes gleamed.

“Something like that, I assume. Caleb would have taken advantage of his superior knowledge of castle constructions in general and this one in particular. It doesn't have to be a priest’s hole. It could be smaller, something hidden within the walls or behind fake panels?”

“Aye, lassie, that’s right.” Adriana readied herself for a long, excited lecture.

I cut her short. “How about we try to figure out exactly where these things could be? We could start in the library. If there are any old documents or drawings, they will be there.”

“What are you waiting for?” She danced in front of me and beckoned the dog.

“I think it’s best if Hamish does not come along.”

“He could stand guard,” Adriana said.

“He’d be great at it, but what if Owen turns up? I’d hate to lose our chance at sleuthing if Angus is upset that I’m not keeping my promise.”

She pushed out her bottom lip.

Hamish growled.

“Please?”

“He says yes, but he doesn’t like it.”

A knock on the door alerted us. I opened, holding Hamish back.

Outside stood the constable. “May I come in for a second?” she asked.

“Of course.” I closed the sketchbook. There was no real reason, but somehow it felt private.

The constable crossed her arms behind her back to stand as straight as possible, until Hamish rubbed himself against her leg and she bent to stroke him.

“What can I do for you?” I asked. “Have I forgotten anything?”

“No. The Detective Inspector asked me to tell you that he appreciates your assistance.” Did she wrinkle her nose a little at that last word?” Probably not too happy with civilians meddling and proving more useful than herself. On second thought, she didn't seem the type to give me that old “everyone in their lane and don’t get any ideas” spiel. I waited for her to go on.

She lowered her voice. “He also said that the person that you were concerned about had nothing to do with the case at hand.”

“As clean as a whistle?” I asked, with mixed emotions. The strongest was a sense of relief. I preferred not to be at the mercy of a killer, especially one who could easily tamper with our food and drink.

On the other hand, there was the evidence of Hamish and Marmaduke who had no reason to lie. “What about that meeting with you know who?”

“She did admit to that. She also made it very clear that she’d told Finlay – the person, that she would not plead his case with his Lordship and sent him packing for good.”

“Are you sure?”

“It's our job to do so,” the constable said, slightly less amiable than before. “You can trust us that we wouldn’t take her word at face value without establishing the facts.”

“Of course, I didn't mean to doubt you, I'm just – “

“Understandably nervous.” She finished my sentence.

“Yes,” I said, grateful for her digging me out of the hole. “Exactly.”

She picked a few dog hairs off her pants leg. The woman had eagle eyes. “I'll leave you to your lunch. It ought to be ready any minute.”

As if to prove that again, she only dealt in proven facts, her words were interrupted by the ubiquitous gong.

What had at first seemed charming was fast becoming the bane of my existence. “Thank you, Constable,” I said and closed the door behind her.

“Do you believe what the Constable said? That Mrs. Brodie is innocent?” Adriana asked.

“Yeah. It would have been nice to have solved the case in such a neat fashion, but honestly, it didn’t add up. Would you risk a cushy post like she has here, either running the Taverner’s household or the future retreat, let alone go to prison, possibly for the rest of her life so this Finlay guy will be spared a probably much more lenient prison sentence?”

“We're back at the start.” Adriana marched up and down.

“Not quite. We have one possibility crossed off our list and an idea where to look next,” I cheered her up. “We’ll explore the library as soon as we’ve sat through lunch.”

“If you don't mind, I'll stay behind,” my great-great-aunt said.“Oh.” I was taken aback. That was not like her at all.

“I'll keep Hamish company. And maybe this stupid piece of paper will finally give up its secrets.” She tapped her fingernail on the first squiggle that she had identified as whats-his-names’ shorthand.

“I'll be as quick as possible without being rude,” I promised her. I wasn't that hungry anyway.

Hamish drooled. “I'll see if I can bring back some food for you.” I tickled him behind his ears. He sighed and rolled onto his back, exposing his soft belly for rubs.

“I'll take care of him,” Adriana said. “Now, skedaddle. And first, brush your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, with a hint of sarcasm that rolled off her like water off a duck’s back. Sometimes she seemed to forget that I was the older one. Technically speaking. And the one in charge. Also technically speaking.

I went down, increasingly aware that time was running short. Hopefully lunch would also serve up some inspiration. It did not, but it did come with a hearty soup and sandwiches, and less than sparkling company.

It was the first time that I mingled with the others since the news was out that Caleb had indeed been murdered. No wonder the atmosphere was subdued. The stiffest of upper lips could barely be expected not to droop.

I glanced around from under my lashes. Claire’s hand trembled so much she spilled her soup without noticing. Her husband did. He wiped away the droplets with his napkin before his wife trailed her sleeve through the spot

A nerve on Diana’s jaw twitched, and Owen tugged on his tie after every second bite, as if it was too tight.

Tamsin and Angus both appeared half frozen.

I wasn’t the only one watching the sorry sight. Diana did her best to act in an unaffected manner, and she almost succeeded. She inclined her head towards me. “Lovely to see you in perfect shape. Here we thought the constable might have given you the third degree.”

“The constable?” I hadn’t noticed anybody overlooking her visit. Quick, I thought, I needed an explanation before my pause became awkward.

“I think she hoped to be flying under the radar. She’s a huge dog lover and wanted to see Hamish.” I addressed my host with what I hoped was a winsome expression. “Please tell me you don't mind that he's still in my room. He's such an emotional help to me considering everything that's going on and with Matt away …” I sniffed.

“I'm so sorry, Genie,” Angus said. “I asked the Detective Inspector if we, or at least you and the other guests would be allowed to leave.”

I answered with a brave smile. “I understand perfectly it's necessary that we all stay here until the case is solved.”

Claire gasped. She put down her soup spoon, which was clearly the better option, before she spilled even more of the broth. “That man! He won’t let us leave and he won't tell me what he's doing to protect my husband, who clearly was the intended victim. Who knows what new devilry is on the cards?”

Her hysterics made it clear why he’d originally not wanted her to hear of his suspicions. Well, it was too late for that.

“No, no, my love.” Douglas patted her hand. “I'm sure it's all under control.”

Owen agreed. “There must be a way to get hold of a list of all the investors who were burnt by that bad scheme.”

“Which was years ago and my husband knew nothing about it,” Claire interjected.

“Quite, quite. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, only that surely the Detective Inspector has gotten his hands on this list already so he can figure out which disgruntled investor could be lurking in the bushes.”

“Indeed. We’re a very exclusive company,” Douglas admitted. “I can't imagine any of our regular clients who are with us because of either personal connections or personal recommendations, could hold a murderous grudge. The only thing harder to imagine is somebody wanting to harm Caleb, or anyone here for that matter.”

Claire nodded. His hand-patting and his logic both appeared to calm her down.

He continued. “It seems a bit far-fetched to me, that, without a proper post-mortem, the police already decide to rule out death from natural causes. The Lord knows I’m still feeling slightly under the weather.”

“I don’t think the police would make that kind of mistake,” Diana interjected. “It sounds terribly snobbish, but they wouldn't dare, not with people of our class and influence.”

There was no responding to that statement, especially since it was clear from everyone's faces that they thought the same, without exception. One simply did not trifle with the aristocracy and the wealthy. Secretly, I thought it was a stroke of luck for the Detective Inspector that I and my sidekick didn't suffer the same inhibitions, as charming and considerate as Lord and Lady Taverner were. I excused myself, once again using Hamish as a pretext.

Adriana lounged on the bed with him, ignoring what we had discussed about being guests here and the dog staying in the drawer. “He's been very well behaved,” she said, pushing out her lip, before I could mention anything. “You won't mind a few hairs, will you? He's been so helpful.” She stroked him and his tongue lolled out.

“I'm glad to hear that,” I said. “Does that mean that you have had any luck with deciphering this?” I tapped on the piece of paper in front of them.

“Have I ever.” She beamed at me. “Hamish reminded me that Caleb might have used Scottish expressions, so he was running me through the words that he knows. The wee clever laddie.” She tapped on one word. “This is clearly bairn. Which means child so we believe it’s got to do with family. And another word is probably jobbie.” She gave me an expectant look.

“That’s a new one for me. Could Hamish please translate?”

“Here's the thing,” she said, looking very pleased with herself. “It can mean several things. Either it’s poo, or it's a small job or it's a small job that is crap. And I think that's what Caleb meant, a job that turned out to be, well, you know.”

“He did seem slightly unhappy once in a while,” I said. “I thought it was only because of this argument with what turned out to be Owen and his lies to Diana. But it's possible that he had more things on his mind, especially since he was mostly dealing with heritage and family trees.”

“Aye, lassie.” Adriana tapped her nose. “I think we have enough clues to continue our search, don’t you?”

Hamish set up on his haunches.“I really wish we could take you along,” I said to him. I had another thought. “He doesn't need to do a jobbie, does he?” She wasn’t the only one who had a knack for picking up new words.

“He says he's fine if we can go for a walk later. He’s the sweetest, most bonnie lad in the country, isn't he?”

“No doubt.”

I took a foldable double-bowl from my carry-on. Since Adriana befriended animals wherever we went, I'd taken to carrying light-weight containers with me. I filled one with water. In the other, I put a chewy treat that hopefully would keep Hamish happy for a while.

I placed them next to his drawer. However useful he’d been, there was no way I was going to condone him hogging the bed and developing bad habits that would get him or us into trouble. Adriana blew him a kiss. We were off.

The library was again deserted. I gave my great-great-aunt the task of standing guard at the top of the staircase. Since she was unable to take any book from the shelves, it was much more useful if she could warn me of new arrivals, in case I found something that needed hiding.

I started my search methodically, with the shelves in the area where Caleb had worked. It seemed logical that he’d have want to keep reference books as close as possible, so they could easily be put away and taken out again as needed.

I let my gaze travel over each shelf from left to right and then right to left, starting at the bottom.Soon I lost track of time, and I had the sneaky suspicion I was going cross-eyed. Also, my back ached. I decided to take a break and do a few stretches, when a slim red volume attracted my attention. A deep, dark red I'd seen before.

“Oh, my goodness,” I said.

Adriana left her post and swooshed to my side. “What is it?”

I pointed towards the spine.

Her jaw dropped. “Caleb's ledger?”

28

“Bull’s-eye.” I pulled it out. What on earth? It was only an empty shell. Every single page had been torn out.

Why? It couldn't have been Caleb. He’d never have treated any kind of book with this much disrespect. Also, he had no reason at all to destroy his own work. Only, why not rip up the whole book? Why keep the binding? I took a closer look. The ledger was bound in cow leather, a material that wasn't that easily to get rid of completely.

You could burn paper or cardboard. At least half the people in the castle had used the fireplaces in their rooms since we arrived, judging from the smell in their clothes. Alternatively, paper could be torn to tiny pieces or cut into ribbons and be flushed down the toilets.

With leather, things weren’t as simple. I had to hand it to our villain. The best hiding spot for the remains of a book was a bookshelf. It would have taken only a few seconds to slide it in among the other books.

My jaw clenched. That also proved whoever had murdered Caleb had been up here. Had they seen what he was working on and decided there and then that he needed to go?

Had the person found and destroyed the duplicate papers? If not, where could they be?

Adriana waved me over. She'd moved on to the shelves where we had found Emily Post’s etiquette book.

“What is it?” I asked. She pointed out a slender book to me. A book co-written by Caleb and half a dozen others. A small treatise about the architecture of Scottish castles through the centuries.

The book was covered in a slight film of dust. I deduced it hadn't been taken out recently. If there was a clue in here, the murderer hadn't found it.

I took the book and dropped it gently onto the table. It fell open where I’d hoped it would, on the chapter written by Caleb. A shiver of anticipation crawled over my spine as I reached the one page that with luck, held the answer to all our questions. I hid the book in my purse. I didn't want to stay too long up here, in case somebody was watching us and put two and two together. With Adriana by my side, I started measuring the room. “Do you recollect where we felt a slight draught?”

She grimaced. I’d forgotten she didn’t share all my sensations.

“Where I felt a slight draught.” I pointed towards the chest.

“It’s locked. I don't think he hid anything inside that.”

“No. Behind it. Can you see anything?”

Dutifully, she floated across and peered down. “Hot-diggity,” she marveled. “You’re the bee's knees. There is an opening and a shaft that’s closed at the bottom. I think I can see something inside.”

Without waiting to hear from me she draped herself over the chest and stuck her arm inside what once upon a time had been a latrine. According to Caleb, a lot of castles had kept these original features, only closed to the outside world, when they were no longer needed to empty bowels and bladders into the moat. They added to the sense of history.

From the outside you could sometimes spot them jutting out from the walls, but they were no longer open to the elements. A perfect hiding place.

“It's documents, alright,” Adriana said as she pulled out her arm again. “A whole bundle.”

Now I needed to figure out how to extract them.

Adriana giggled as I traded places with her. I assumed that Caleb had come up with a way to retrieve those papers easily without contorting himself into a human pretzel.

I was right. Under my fingertips I discovered a taut fishing line, fastened on one end to a protruding stone with an upturned edge. The other end was wound parcel-style around a heavy bundle wrapped into oil cloth. It weighed at least four pounds.

I hauled it up and hurried to stow it away in my purse. It was getting slightly cramped in there and painfully heavy in my shoulder.

For once, I didn't care. All that mattered was reaching our room with the precious cargo. I didn’t dare risk leaving it up here. If we could locate the papers, someone else might do the same.

I checked that my purse revealed no clue as to its contents when Adriana broke into laughter.

“What's so hilarious?” I asked.

“Don't you see? Jobbie. He told us where to find it. In the old timey-wimey potty.”

I joined in her laughter, carefree for a few precious moments. Then I sobered. “Back to work. We need to read this carefully before we can consider our next steps.”

“I go ahead,” she said. “If anybody comes along, I'll blast them so hard, they’ll end up as ice-sculptures.” She puffed out her cheeks. The castle inhabitants were spared her blasts. There was no one in sight, and we slipped safely inside the bedroom, with a purse full of borrowed papers worth killing for.

29

I wedged a chair under the door handle to guarantee we’d be undisturbed and nobody would manage to enter with or without a key. Until we'd figured out who'd murdered Caleb I was not going to trust anyone, no matter how much I liked them.

“That’s enough research material for a dozen doctorates,” Adriana stated as I spread out the papers and books we’d found on the bed.

“Darn.” If we had to read every single word, it would take forever - if we managed it at all. There were letters written in a checkerboard manner, dating from the era when paper was scare, and postage was paid by the page. People would simply fill the page and then turn it 90 degrees and write across too.

Then there were faded spidery scripts, treatises, census papers, marriage certificates and wills, purchase agreements, love letters, and newer messages in a modern hand. For a historian, this was heaven. For me, it was more the opposite. This threatened to be a mammoth task.

“How do we figure out where to start?” Adriana asked.

I massaged my scalp, to stimulate the blood flow. Supposedly, it helped with brain function. “Let's see first if we can split it into different piles, for the diverse jobs the stuff belonged to.”

“Clever, if you have any idea what they all are.”

I thought back on my conversations with Caleb. “I don't think that his work on the history of Scottish castles would be reason enough to kill him. You said he wrote bairn. That implies families. He said he was writing about the forgotten people, and then he had two, possibly three concrete family stories that he was working on, right?”

Adriana creased her forehead. “Go on.”

“Number one, he was tracing Tamsin’s heritage, hired by Angus. Number two, he was doing the same for Douglas, hired by Clare. And number three, it’s possible he also researched our Betsy, inspired by my story. Let's see if we can sort everything accordingly. Anything else goes on an extra pile.”

Adriana was a lot better than me when it came to reading the old-fashioned writing styles. We'd finished a rough division when once again, the gong echoed through the hallways.

“Not again,” she muttered.I wished I could excuse myself. There was no way I was going to leave our precious find behind for anyone to sneak in and steal it. Maybe I was on the verge of becoming paranoid, yet I was convinced the murderer was playing cat and mouse with the police, and all of us. I was equally convinced we were so close to solving the case, and to finding the clues we were looking for ourselves. “Where can we hide the documents?” I asked Adriana.

She sat down and propped her chin into her hands, in a deep contemplation last seen this theatrically on DVD, courtesy of Constance Bennett.

“Can you hurry up?”

She glared at me. Then she clapped her hands. “Open that book.” She selected one of the volumes we’d set aside as only being relevant to the history of the castle as such.

I obeyed.

“Flick through it. There should be a few maps.”

She was right. About 70 pages in, we found a description and a detailed drawing. The interior design of this bedroom had changed but the overall structure remained faithful to the original. She flitted over to the wall with the unlit fireplace.

She guided me to the left side. There was a marble surround, edged with carved wood. “Now search for a lever.” It was tiny, disguised as part of a carved thistle. Also, it was a button instead of lever. Otherwise, my great-great-aunt was spot on.

I pushed the button. A panel next to the mantel sprung open an inch. I grabbed inside and found I could easily push it aside, to reveal an opening in the wall big enough to hide an adult person.

As fast as I could, I bundled up all the papers we had discovered, wrapped them again in the oil cloth, and dropped the package inside the panel. It closed without a hitch. Only a slight squeak told me that it hadn't been used recently.

I wondered how many more secret passages and hidden nooks and crannies there were, and how many people knew their secret way around the castle. Then I put that thought aside for later contemplation. The gong had rung out the third time and it simply would not do to arrive late at a lord’s dinner table.

When I entered, Owen sent Diana’s regards. She had her taken to her bed with a migraine.

Tamsin washed down two aspirin, with a glass of water. I waited until she’d swallowed them before I approached her and Angus, with a hand pressed against my forehead. “I'm so sorry,” I said. “If you'll excuse me, I think I'll also get some rest. My head’s pounding.”

“Of course, my dear.” Tamsin peered at me. “Would you like aspirin or do you prefer something stronger?”

“A pill or two would be nice.” I accepted the half empty blister pack and hurried out of the room. On my way, I discreetly snatched a freshly baked bread roll from a basket. That should keep me going, despite the missed dinner.

“That was fast,” Adriana said.

“I excused myself with a headache, so we can crack on with our research.” With most of our suspects safely ensconced in the dining room, we could talk freely.

Again, I used the chair to block the handle. If someone tried to enter through some of the secret passages, which I still hadn’t studied in their entirety, we’d probably hear them scrambling behind the wood paneling.

I focused on the first set of documents I’d spread out on the bed for easier study.It made fascinating reading, or at least it would have, without the urgency of finding out exactly what in these papers was so threatening to somebody that they killed Caleb over it.

And then we knew.

I rubbed my eyes.

We read everything again. Then we cross referenced, and talked about our deductions.

Adriana and I agreed. There was no doubt we’d uncovered the motive and with it, the killer.

30

“The Darling Detectives Do It Again,” Adriana declared in dramatic air quotes. “Do you think we’ll go down in the history books as gumshoes?”

“Unlikely. The bigger question is, what do we do now? Handing over the papers to the Detective Inspector might not be enough, or at least not fast enough before our vacation’s over.”

We sighed in unison. “We have to set a trap again.”

“Do you really think we should do this on our own?” Adriana said, switching from gung-ho mode to being the voice of reason.

“You're right, we’ll need help.” I tried to remember where the Detective Inspector’s room was. By now, dinner was long over, and most people would seek out their beds.

“I could look around,” she suggested.

“Let's take Hamish for a final walk before we retire,” I said. “That would give us a good excuse to check on everybody’s whereabouts.” I picked him up, and he blissfully snuggled his head against my chest.

We walked past the bedrooms that lay in complete silence, traipsed down the staircase and past the drawing room where the men huddled together over a nightcap or two. I didn't see Tamsin or Claire but I heard them talking in the adjoining room. The connecting door was open, a point I took as a good omen.

I sneaked past with the dog and my great-great-aunt and poked my head into the makeshift interview room. It was empty, so why wasn't it locked?

“Can I do something for you?”

I spun on my heel. “Detective Inspector?” In my surprise, I clutched Hamish so hard, he yelped.

Adriana soothed him.

“Coming to see me, Ms. Darling?”

I glanced around under my lashes and lowered my voice. “Actually, I was. I've got to take the dog outside first, if you don’t mind?” That ought to buy me a few minutes in which to figure out how to sell my plan to him.

To my astonishment, he simply said, “I'll join you.”

He grabbed a couple of flashlights from his desk. Obviously, the man was well prepared for all situations. I guided him towards the greenhouse, using the same path Mrs. Brodie had shown me.

We stayed outside the building, giving Hamish the chance to run around for a little bit and do his business.

I’d armed myself with a pooper scooper and a bag. There was a handy bin already supplied for this eventuality. At least, I assumed that's what it was there for.

The Detective Inspector took out a pipe. “I hope you don't mind,” he said. “It helps me think.”I'd known worse habits, from men a lot less attractive, and it might put him at ease.

I graciously said, “Feel free to smoke.”

He struck a match. The scent of burning tobacco hit my nostrils in a not unpleasant way.

Adriana sniffed the pungent air. “My dad’s den used to smell like that.” Now I was doubly glad that I hadn’t objected to the Detective Inspector’s pipe.

We tramped around in circles, with the snow crunching underneath our feet and our feet sinking in. It took an effort to move around at a decent speed, which helped me with collecting my thoughts.

The Detective Inspector listened without interrupting as I laid out my reasoning, and my plan. The only thing I left out was Adriana’s involvement.

When I’d finished, he stood stock-still. Then he took me by the shoulder. He was so shocked, his Scottish came through for a moment. “Yer aff yer heid. I cannae let you do this, Ms. Darling.” He took a deep breath and returned to standard English. “It’s too risky.”

“Not if you help me.” He shone the light flashlight at my face, taking great care not to dazzle me but enough to see it written on my face that I was serious.I did the same with him, to see nothing but concern reflected in his eyes.

“It'll be easy,” I said. “Or at least it won't be dangerous for me, with your assistance. The worst that can happen is that I was wrong, and nothing will come of it.”

“We need time to prepare.”

“We need to strike now. When everyone’s gone to bed, our killer will consider himself safe and fall into the trap. Privacy and silence are in our favor.”

Adriana crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Listen to the lady.”

“I'm not happy with the idea of letting you take that kind of risk.”

“You'll keep me safe, Detective Inspector,” I said, once again.

“Flatter him. He’ll be putty in your hands,” my great-great-aunt said.

I tilted my head to the side. “I have absolute faith in you and in your abilities.”

He grumbled a little before finally he gave in.

“That took forever,” Adriana fretted when we were alone. “What if everybody's already asleep?”

“In that case we'd have to rethink our strategy.” I sounded slightly more confident than I felt, despite my statements to the contrary. Was it really that smart to rely on a killer getting rattled?

Adriana waved her arms around, in an attempt to buck me up, and sang her own version of You Do Something To Me. If I ever met Cole Porter in the afterlife, I owed him an apology for the lyrics. “We do the gumshoe that we do so well … We two detect everything, and all that mystifies you.”

She still sang as we stole into the library. I placed a bundle with papers in the old latrine.

Then I threw on a bathrobe and sauntered downstairs, with my phone in my hand. The men were still assembled in a corner of the drawing room, and the women had also remained where they were. Maybe deep down they believed in the good old saying of safety in numbers.

I pretended not to notice anyone, because I was too busy chatting on the phone with Matt as I poured myself a brandy. “You won't believe it,” I said into the phone. I lowered my voice into a stage-whisper that should carry nicely. “I’ve finally figured out where Betsy’s diary is. Caleb left a note, about it and a bunch of other old documents.”

“You sound a bit strained,” Matt said in a suspicious tone.

I'd called him for real because I didn't want to run the danger that anybody spotted me faking a phone conversation. That would have made anybody smell a rat, especially one with a guilty conscience.

Matt went on. “Please, Genie, don't do anything dangerous while I'm gone.”

I said, “I know, right? It must be serendipity that I stumbled upon the note in the library.” With the snifter in one hand and the phone in the other, I wafted out of the room.I didn't dare look back to see if any of my audience had reacted to this interesting tidbit or if I had completely miscalculated.

31

A sour taste crept into my mouth. I took a brief detour to the bathroom to empty the glass with brandy into the sink and to run cold water over my wrists, to calm my nerves and my stomach.

Adriana leant against the wall outside the bathroom. “What took you so long?”

I didn't get a chance to answer or to duck away, when she screamed, “He's here.”

“Hamish, help,” I cried out loud, a split second before I saw a hand came from behind and press the tip of a knife against my rib case.

“Let's take a walk,” a voice whispered into my ear. A strong arm clamped me against a chest. “That little dog is not going to come to your rescue.” The menacing tone changed to one of pleasant conversation, which somehow was worse.

My stomach plummeted.

“You'll be fine, Genie. All you have to do is follow my orders," the voice whispered.

With shaking hands, I opened the door to the staircase up to the library.

Douglas McIver marched me up without giving me the tiniest chance to escape. He’d moved the knife an inch away from me which reduced the danger of him stabbing me by accident if I made a wrong move. Yet I had no doubt that he did not intend to let me go.

If only I'd listen to the Detective Inspector.

I’d expected a trap. But stupidly, I had relied on Douglas waiting in the library until I arrived to continue my hunt. Now all I could do was pray that I’d manage to come up with a way to stall him until the cavalry appeared.

Or I would be the next victim.

He switched on the lights. They cast a bright circle on the floor.

Adriana shook, frightened for me.

I stifled tears of fear and self-pity. Despair was not an option, I scolded myself.

Douglas’s voice pierced through my mental fog. “You mentioned you’d found some papers.”

“Yes,” I whispered. My mind was racing to come up with an idea, any idea to save my skin. I glanced around through my lashes. Everything was as I’d seen it the first time, with Parkins as guide.

There were weapons on the wall, but too far away, and I was more likely to kill myself with a pike or a halberd than anything else.

Douglas continued. “You see, I'm very interested in seeing them myself. If you lead me to it and give me that note …” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“I can tell you where to look. Otherwise you’ll need to let me go, so I can move.”

He loosened his grip on me, but not so much that I could step away from him, or the knife. I studied it, only to look away before I lost my nerve completely. “The note was in that bookshelf over there. I put it back where I found it.” With trembling fingers, I pointed it out.

“If you would kindly procure it for me.” A whimper escaped me as I stepped forward and took the sheet from where I’d stashed it earlier, when I prepared our trap.

He took one glance at the paper and raised the knife. I shivered. “This is gibberish, Genie. I'm not in the mood to play games.”

Frantically, I shook my head. “It something called Gregg shorthand. It’s a phonemic system, which makes it harder to decipher for others. I think that's why Caleb used it, to tell himself confidential things. I only struck lucky because he’d showed me how to write one word, that was the key to the rest.”

He lost patience with my long-winded explanations. “Where are the papers?”

“In the latrine.”

“What?”

“It's blocked up,” I said. “It's a perfect hiding space, easy to reach, yet out of sight.” My voice went small. “You killed him, didn't you?”

He did not answer. “Fetch me those papers.”

I breathed a little easier. That should at least let me escape the knife's reach for a few seconds, while I climbed over the chest. I strained my ears.

Adriana shook her head at me. “He isn't here yet. You need to stall.” With stiff limbs, I climbed onto the chest, stemmed my feet against the wall and pushed it a few inches away.

It took all my strength to create enough space to dangle my legs between chest and latrine. I twisted my torso and made a great show of fumbling inside the latrine and finally retrieving the parcel. For an instant I considered flinging it at Douglas. Too bad my position made that impossible. I glanced around.

He was still close, dangerously close, and the Detective Inspector hadn't come to my rescue.

Now I had only one hope left. I concentrated with all my might, not daring to call out, yet praying that Adriana would again be able to read my mind. I was thinking the instructions for her over and over again while I pulled my legs out of the gap and slowly moved around. In my hands I held the parcel.

“Now,” I screamed inside my head.

“Down,” she yelled and concentrated all her powers.

The electronic bagpipes wailed like a million lost souls. Although I’d expected it, they almost gave me a heart attack.

Douglas was startled so badly, he spun around. With one leap, I jumped off the chest, grabbed the knight’s helmet and bashed it over his head with it. He groaned as he dropped the knife.

A large figure pushed me aside and tackled Douglas, before he had a chance to recover. In the blink of an eye, the newcomer pinned him to the ground and clapped handcuffs on him. 

DI Davidson had come to the rescue. 

“Get up,” he ordered Douglas, as his sergeant dashed into the room. “For your information, Mr. McIver, the lady wasn’t calling the dog. She was alarming me. You’ve been outwitted.”

My knees grew weak. I pressed a hand against the wall to steady myself. “That was about high time”, I said.

“I'm sorry I didn’t interfere earlier. I couldn't risk him stabbing you.”

Douglas replied with an expletive that I hoped Adriana would not store in her memory for future use.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to go to my room now,” I said. My legs were shaky, and my head felt weirdly light, so light that I thought I was hallucinating when I saw Matt storming into the library.

“Genie. Thank heavens you're safe.”

“He came to rescue you,” Adriana formed a heart with her hands. 

“You were in Edinburgh until tomorrow.”

“I had the crazy notion you’d embarked onto something dangerous. When you rang, I was only a few miles away.” 

He hugged me close as my nerve finally gave out and I buckled under.

32

The sun stood high in the sky when I finally woke up.

Matt had held me in his arms all night long, stopping the nightmares that had caused me to cry out more often than I cared to remember.“I can't believe I nearly lost you,” he said.

“Thankfully, you didn't.” I nestled against his chest.

Hamish dozed in his drawer and Adriana gazed at us all with a serene smile, perching on the dresser.

“How did you sense that I was in danger?” I marveled.

He rubbed his chin which sprouted an attractive hint of a stubble.

“No idea. All I can say is that, out of the blue, I had the sudden urge to jump into the car and come here as soon as possible.”

“But you did finish the job?” Reputation was everything in his line of work.

He planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Yes, I did.”

“Good. Like I said, I had everything under control with the Detective Inspector's help.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, but to his credit he didn't utter a word.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I skipped dinner last night and I'm starving.”

A slow smile spread over his face. Suddenly, food didn’t seem that important. Having a chaperone sitting on the dresser on the other hand cramped my style. I filed that problem for another day and jumped out of bed. Matt, bless him, had hand-delivered my suitcase and unpacked it as well.

I paused. What did a houseguest wear in a castle where she’d helped put a murderer behind bars and break his wife’s heart? Suddenly I didn't feel like facing the others yet.

Breakfast had finished hours ago, and lunch was a little while away, so I asked Matt to sneak into the kitchen and work his irresistible charm on the cook or Mrs. Brodie.He came back with two packed lunches which we took to the greenhouse. By now Adriana and I considered it our own special place, far away from vexing questions.Hamish rolled on the floor and chewed a bone. Adriana inhaled the aroma of ham sandwiches and coffee from a flask and our thermal mugs.

We didn't say much. Instead, we enjoyed each other's company. After last night, the simple fact of seeing an - admitted watery - sun again and watching an eagle soar overhead, made me feel joyously alive.

Adriana did her level best to allow us some privacy, although it clearly took her some effort.

Matt and I had reached the comfortable stage in our relationship where we didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words.

***

The Detective Inspector found us there, wiping crumbs off our clothes and playing with Hamish. “How are you today, Ms Darling?“ he asked, peering anxiously at me.

“I'm okay,” I said. “What’s going to happen now?”

“We have the suspect in custody since last night. His wife has left the castle, in case you were wondering.”

I nodded. The thought of facing Claire had been stressful. Admittedly, I wasn’t to blame for her husband’s misdeeds, and given time, she’d probably learn to count her blessings. Nevertheless, I doubted she’d ever want to see my pleasant self again. “I assume you need my official statement and that’s why you here?”

“I'd appreciate that.”

“What about the others? Did you mention anything about my involvement?” My voice wobbled.

Adriana dashed to my side. “I won’t let anyone bad-mouth you.”

“It’s fine,” I mouthed behind my hand. So far, I’d avoided any open ghost talk, and I intended to keep it that way. Calm, collected, and charming, that’s how my Scottish friends should remember me.

Adriana rolled her eyes. “You have that doolally look again. He’s talking.”

Matt held my hand as I switched my attention to the Detective Inspector.

“I’ve said as little as possible. I assumed you’d prefer that,” he said.

“I do.” I wondered how much he had told Angus and Tamsin.

I’d barely had the opportunity to speculate. As soon as the Detective Inspector had left, Angus came to see us. If this went on at this rate, the greenhouse would need a revolving door.

Angus cleared his throat. “How are you?”

“I’m alright.” His question could only mean one thing. He knew what had happened. I tried to read his expression, without success. I assumed the British nobility learned on their nanny’s lap how to keep a civil façade whether one was dealing with a lack of lobster for a party or a murderer under one’s roof. Both Matt and Adriana moved as close to me as possible.

I mentally prepared a rousing speech to convince Angus to let me borrow Betsy’s diaries. I’d braced myself since last night for being sent off. I could understand if Angus and Tamsin locked up the doors, refurbished the drawbridge and had the moat dug twice as deep. If anything dampened the idea of Christmas, murder and betrayal topped my list.

“You don’t have to say –”

Angus interrupted me before I finished my sentence. “Please, stay. Unless you'd rather get away as far as you can from the unpleasant memories.”

“No,” I said. “I'd love to stick around and have a proper Highland Christmas.”

“And look through Betsy Taverner's diaries and photos?” He attempted a soft chuckle. “The Detective Inspector will need to see you a couple of times, I assume.”

“But not here, I guess.”

“He’ll continue his work in the police station. The drive isn't too bad, now the roads have been cleared. You’ll enjoy the nearby towns. Very quaint and full of history.”

“He knows everything, doesn't he?” Adriana said, when he was gone.

I shrugged, yes.

“I think he knows enough, but I also think he won't tell.” Matt confirmed my idea.

33

The return to the remaining company was surprisingly easy.

Diana's eyes were red-rimmed, but I suppose that had more to do with Claire than with Douglas.I spotted her vanity case by the door.

“Are you leaving?” I asked, a little blunter than intended.

“Tonight. We’re not running away if that’s what you think.” She snuggled into Owen's arm.

He colored slightly. “I’ve come clean, about pretending I already was single again. And now my wife, soon to be ex-wife, has finally agreed in writing to the divorce. She promised so many times and then pulled out again that it feels like a Christmas miracle.” He gazed adoringly at Diana. “Caleb made me realize I can't build a relationship on lies.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I never doubted you. It’s nice you didn’t want to drag her through the courts.”

On her hand, I spotted a gigantic diamond ring. “Congratulations, if that’s what I believe it is,” I said.

“It’s not an official engagement yet and these weren't quite the circumstances we'd hoped for but thank you.” She twinkled at me.

“Why don’t you stay for Christmas?” I asked.

“I’d love to but I really want to make sure that my lawyer has everything to start the divorce proceedings, before my ex has a change of heart,” Owen said.

Diana nodded. “I also want to check in on Claire. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. It must have been such a shock.

I sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Was I under scrutiny?

“Say something,” Adriana suggested. “Don't stand there like a dummy.”

I racked my brain to came up with something. I failed.

Owen jumped into the breach. “You were lucky with your timing,” he said to Matt. “It’s been rather a lot to take in, I have to say.”

“He must have had a moment of madness,” Diana said. “The Detective Inspector kept very quiet about details, but, honestly, murder?” She shuddered. Owen pulled her even closer.

“It depends on what you've got to lose,” Angus said. His jaw muscles worked. “It won't be a secret much longer, but as far as I’ve been told, Caleb had found out a few things that Douglas desperately wanted to keep quiet forever.”

“Caleb? He’s – was – a historian,” Diana said. “His main interests ended before Douglas was born.”

“That’s the rub. It seems that one of his ancestors in late Victorian times was a cuckoo in the nest, born before the mother married into the family, conveniently abroad. The husband died shortly after the wedding. The birth certificate and entry in the church register were falsified a little later.”

“Nobody could blame Douglas for that.”

“It still posed a real threat. There might have been other claims to the title and the family fortune. The inheritance laws were very strict about the line of succession. On top of that, his whole success in business depended on his social standing.” Angus paused and stared at his feet. “There’s also Claire. As dearly as we all love her, she has very clear expectations of her spouse. Maybe he feared losing her.”

“Horsefeathers,” Adriana muttered. “Nice tale though.”

I covered my mouth to hide a grin. The story Angus has told was true enough - Adriana and I had discovered the proof - but it was far from the only thing we had discovered.

“I don't think we'll ever know for sure,” Tamsin said. “All we do know is that he murdered Caleb. Please, let's not talk about it any longer.”

***

“I’ve kept quiet about his real motive,” I told the The Detective Inspector a little later. Matt had taken me to the small police station in town to give my official statement.

“I appreciate that. I assume you have a few questions?”

“You bet,” Adriana said.

She and I had figured out a few things on our own. I had the sneaky suspicion she wanted to impress the handsome policeman, using me as a go-between.

“Douglas planned to poison Caleb, didn't he?” I asked.

“How did you guess?”

“First, there was the mysterious food poisoning that only affected Douglas. The symptoms gave him that wonderful excuse to change rooms, to make it look as if Douglas was the intended victim, if anything went wrong.”

The Detective Inspector nodded. “Go on.”

In hindsight, I was so very, very smart. “I also remembered how Douglas’s hand had hovered over Owen’s coffee, the one that he didn't drink after all. When that plan failed, he had to improvise. All the regular guests were well acquainted with the castle, so it’s not far-fetched that he’d figured out a way to enter the room, smother Caleb, and leave the room again using one of the secret passages, with nobody the wiser.”

“You make a fine detective.”

“Och, aye, we do.” Adriana fluffed her curls.

“The rest of you were never meant to be harmed,” the Detective Inspector continued, unaware of being the object of a ghostly flirtation. I bit the inside of my lip to stifle a giggle.

“He kept the poison in his suitcase. If he'd been lucky, Caleb Cowper's death would have easily been written off as a result of bad food.”

“That means he came prepared. He already arrived at the castle, ready to kill,” I said.

“It appears so. It must have been a shock for him to discover shortly before the trip that his wife had hired a well-respected historian and genealogist and handed over all the information she’d found, including a few letters he should’ve destroyed.”

“The letters we found?”

“They gave Caleb Cowper enough information to dig deeper into the investment fraud scheme, and the missing money. Far from being an innocent bystander, Douglas helped transfer the money out of the country and into shell accounts. One of the victims was Caleb’s mother.”

“Why not go to straight to the police?” I asked.

“I think he wanted to be absolutely sure before he accused an old friend, especially since the original investigation had ended with the case being closed. His accomplice was sentenced to five years. He?ll be released in a year.”

“Why did he keep the letters?” I wondered.

“Leverage. There were a few other things alluded to, which I can’t divulge.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile. Adriana goggled at him. “Shall we now begin with your official statement?” he asked.

“I’m ready.”

“I hope this hasn't spoiled your visit completely,” he said when we were done.

“It hasn't. I only wish I had a lot more time to explore.”

Adriana’ eyes lit up. “Yes, we should definitely do that.”

The Detective Inspector shook my hand. “Goodbye, Ms. Darling, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Goodbye, Detective Inspector.”

“Hamish,” he said.

“Goodbye, Hamish.” I beamed at him. His appearance in the crucial moments had spared me the necessity to give testimony at the trial. He'd overheard more than enough to take care of everything on the witness stand.

We were free and ready to celebrate Christmas at the castle.

34

It was a quiet affair, small, but perfectly formed.

We’d gone to the small market town ten miles down the road the night before, to hear the carol singers, aged between five and eighty. Their breath had plumed in the cold, clear night. Moonlight cast its silvery glow over a ten feet tall Christmas tree in the cobblestone square.

I’d choked back tears as I listened closer to Silent Night. They had gained a new soprano.

Adriana sang her heart out. In the moonlight, her hair shone like a halo, and with her silver evening frock she resembled an angel.

“I've never done this before,” she told me afterwards, back at the castle.

I was happy she enjoyed herself because Betsy's diaries had been a disappointment. While they were not a complete washout - she had faithfully listed every single item she'd received from the Darlings - there was not a single mention of the missing necklace.

We had to start all over again.

What was a huge success on Christmas morning was the stocking I’d hung from the bedpost.

For the longest moment, she stared at it. “This is for me?” Her voice wobbled.

“You must have had a stocking before.”

“For me,” she repeated. “Quick, Genie. Show me everything.”

I emptied her presents onto the bed.

Her gaze traveled lovingly over three gift wrapped items.

“Which one do you want to open first?” I asked.

She tapped on the thickest parcel. I unwrapped it, smoothing the paper.

“It's a movie,” she said. “No, it’s two.”

“You'll love them.” Cary Grant in The Bishop’s Wife and in Arsenic and Old Lace were also on my personal hit list.

“The next one,” she said.

I unwrapped my sketch of her, with her pretend knight.

“Oh my goodness.” She almost cried. “That is the nicest thing I've ever been given, apart from Belle’s presents.”

The third gift was a Christmas card with the sketch of Hamish under a tree, promising her we’d go wherever we had a chance to find her old belongings. No strings attached.

“I've got something for you as well,” she said.

“You do?”

She whispered something into my ear.“That's perfect,” I said.

“You deserve it.” She flung her arms around me. “Now let's have a bite.”

I'd dressed in a floor-length velvet gown in a rich burgundy, which paid faint homage to the medieval court dresses. Adriana had picked it out for me. Matt was resplendent in a dinner jacket.

We went down the staircase, to the quintessential soundtrack of the Highlands, like I’d imagined it only a few days ago.

For Parkins, who’d swapped his suit and tie for a kilt, played the bagpipes for us – the real thing, not the electronic ones that had been Douglas’s downfall.

Angus and Tamsin had recovered from the murder and the police investigation. They both oohed and aahed over my handcrafted presents, a bangle with an intricate design using elements of the family crest for her, and checker design cufflinks for him, similar to those I’d given Matt.

With Owen gone, Hamish had taken his rightful place at the table with his owner again.

While we battled through all the traditional courses of a Scottish Christmas lunch, from soup and pâte on Melba toast (with the pieces of bread broken off and buttered as one went along, naturally), to turkey with all the trimmings, he sat on a chair between Angus and unbeknownst to out host, Adriana.

The little terrier feasted on juicy morsels of turkey. Marmaduke the cat had also received his fair share. We'd seen to that.

The meal had started in the early afternoon and stretched out over more than two hours. In the background traditional Christmas music played. I’d accepted a glass of wine. So, what if Adriana became tipsy? She'd been mostly sober during our visit and she deserved to let her hair down.

The pièce de resistance was the Christmas pudding. Mrs. Brodie carried it in, in all its flaming glory. Adriana goggled.

“Careful,” the housekeeper said once the brandy had burned off and she served us generous helpings. “It’s hot and we’ve stirred in all the usual things, if you’re not familiar with the tradition.”

Tamsin noticed my blank stare. “The small tokens you find in your Christmas pudding are supposed to bring you good luck. There's a silver coin, a ring, a thimble and an anchor hidden.”

Adriana clapped her hands. “That’s the bee's knees. We should do that at home.” She clapped again when I found the ring in my portion. Matt stared at me with an inscrutable expression.

My cheeks burned. Adriana leaned closer and sniffed my wine. “Ooooh. We should have another glass.”

“Later,” I said.

“Pardon?” Tamsin asked.

“Later I'll - I forgot what I was going to say.”

“No wonder, after these last few days,” Matt came to my rescue.

Tamsin let it slide. “Do you care for a short walk to stretch our legs before we sit down for the traditional speech from the palace?”

“Excellent idea,” I patted my tummy. “I'm stuffed.”

“A hefty dose of Alka seltzer is another Christmas tradition under this roof,” Angus said.

“I can imagine.” I stroked Hamish, who’d finished his own feast. “For the walk, lead on, Macduff.”

Once safely outside, I linked arms with Matt and Adriana. After sticking her nose into my wine glass, she needed steadying before she decided to float up into a tree or see if she could reach the battlements.

A pink tinge washed over the azure sky, announcing the coming dusk. Everything felt timeless. We might as well have been back in Stuart or Elizabethan times.

I took a deep breath. The air smelled of pine and wood fires.

“Look at meeeeee,” Adriana sang out. She'd let go of me and now danced in the air, floating a couple of inches above the ground.

“You're watching her, aren't you?” Matt asked.

“She's having a blast.”

He waved at the general direction of where I was gazing, since he couldn't see Adriana. “It's nice she's keeping up her spirits despite the disappointment.”

“It's even nicer what she's given me for Christmas.” I whispered the exact words she’d told me into his ear.

Matt stopped on the spot. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

35

Which was why we three found ourselves less than a week later at the banks of Loch Lomond. Tamsin and Angus had left the castle and gone to spend New Year's Eve with their son.

I'd been toying with the idea of visiting Edinburgh's Old Town for the festivities, until Adriana had given me her Christmas present. I waved adios to the idea of a Hogmanay celebration where booze ran freely and carousing people in various state of inebriation owned the streets. That scenario did not work for my lovely great-great-aunt, or my sanity. This, on the other hand, won our hearts at first sight.

We’d rented a lakeview cottage, with no other neighbors within half a mile. The inky water lapped against the shore. Starlight glittered on the surface and dotted the gentle ripples with small diamond shapes.

Now hidden from sight, in the background, Ben Lomond and smaller hills separated Highlands and Lowlands, according to my guide. In the surrounding Trossachs national park, deer and Scottish wildcats roamed freely. Matt and I sat alone outside on the porch, wrapped in several layers of clothes. We were holding hands. I rested my head against his shoulder.

Adriana had kept her Christmas promise and given us space. Matt and I shared one bedroom, and she occupied the other. That’s where she was right now, listening to her audio books and being the soul of discretion.

I checked my watch. It said five minutes to midnight.

“I'll fetch the champagne,” Matt said as he rose.

I sat still, thinking over everything that had happened during this year. It had started with me coming to Cobblewood Cove in April. I’d planned to stay for a few weeks at the most. Like my parents, or because of them, I'd been a rolling stone most of my life.

No longer. As soon as Adriana materialized, she’d turned my life upside down. Thanks to her, I had a real home. I’d found roots, Matt, and more happiness than I’d ever imagined. True, I'd also stumbled into more hair-raising situations than I’d ever dreamt of. And yet …

Matt arrived with a champagne.

“Three glasses?” I asked.

“We’re three people here, aren't we?” He gave me that quick smile that invariably caused my heart to flutter.

I jumped up and ran inside the cottage. “Quick, Adriana, before it strikes midnight.”

“Woohoo.” She glided outside.

Matt filled the glasses. I held hers out to her and tilted it so she could try to drink a drop or two. Matt’s and my breath intertwined in the cold night air. In the distance we heard the faint ringing of church bells. They chimed in the new year.

Matt pulled me into a kiss that chased away every other thought. When I came up for air, Adriana licked her lips and sank back onto the ground, grinning from ear to ear. “This is the best night of my life. I think we should take Matt along when we travel again to hunt for my necklace. Is he a good kisser?” She rolled over to look me in the face. “I think I'm soused.”

“You are,” I said, and clinked glasses. “Here's to a happy new year.” Silently I added, and a long afterlife. “Fill me up again with giggle-water.” She hiccuped. “I want to dance. Let's dance, Genie.”

What the heck. So far, Matt hadn’t batted an eyelid at any of our antics.

I hit her favorite playlist, and by the fabled banks of Loch Lomond, my adorable Ghost and I danced the Charleston until I ran out of breath, and she laughed until tears streamed down her face, only to disappear again without a trace.

Adriana Darling, life of the party.

I crossed my fingers it would stay that way, and that our quest wouldn’t instead one day be the end of me.

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About the author

Carmen Radtke has spent most of her life with ink on her fingers and a dangerously high pile of books and newspapers by her side. She has worked as a newspaper reporter on two continents and always dreamt of becoming a novelist and screenwriter.

When she found herself crouched under her dining table, typing away on a novel between two earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand, she realised she was hooked for life.

The shaken but stirring novel made it to the longlist of the Mslexia competition, and her next book and first mystery, The Case Of The Missing Bride, was a finalist in the Malice Domestic competition in a year without a winner as well as nominated for a CWA Historical Dagger. Since then, she has penned several more cozy mysteries, including the Jack and Frances series set in the 1930s.

Her Genie and Adriana Darling series combines her love for the 1920s and 1930s and old screwball comedies in the form of a pet-whispering ghost, and contemporary settings.

Although, she has by now committed more crimes in her novels than she ever covered as a reporter, her conscience and rap sheet are both clear. The only blood Carmen has shed, was a fly she swatted. Even that was an accident.

After years in New Zealand and England, Carmen now lives in Italy with her human and her four-legged family.

You can find more about the author on

www.digital-publishers.com/en/authors/carmen-radtke

carmenradtke.com

www.facebook.com/authorcarmenradtke

www.instagram.com/scribbler25

x.com/CarmenRadtke1

Other titles by the author

Genie and Adriana Darling Mysteries:

Ghost and the Haunted House
ISBN: 978-1-91741-734-1
Learn more

Ghost Stirs the Pot
ISBN: 978-1-91741-733-4
Learn more

Ghost Takes a Vacation
ISBN: 978-1-91741-732-7
Learn more

Genie and the Ghost
ISBN: 978-1-91741-731-0
Learn more

More serious crimes

An Unfamiliar Murder

Jane Isaac

E-Book-ISBN: 978-1-91741-716-7

Some secrets just won't stay buried.

Arriving home from a routine day at work, Anna Cottrell has no idea that her life is about to change forever. But discovering the stabbed body of a stranger in her flat, then becoming prime suspect in a murder inquiry is only the beginning. Her persistent claims of innocence start to crumble when new evidence links her irrevocably with the victim...

Leading her first murder investigation, DCI Helen Lavery unravels a trail of deception, family secrets and betrayal. When people close to the Cottrell family start to disappear, Lavery is forced into a race against time. Can she catch the killer before he executes his ultimate victim?

Become curious?
We hope you enjoy the reading sample!

Reading sample

Chapter One

The walls were closing in on Anna. Her chest tightened.

A loud, chilling wail rose up from beyond. She closed her eyes, pressed her palms to her ears to shut out the intermittent screams.

“Shut it!” yelled a voice in the distance.

“Can it!” growled another. “Before I make you.”

“Like to see that,” responded the first one. Raucous laughter filled the air.

Anna sat on the hard bench and shuddered, hugging her knees into her stomach, coiling her body to protect it. As the last decibels of laughter abated, her eyes focused on the graffiti scratched on to the wall beside her. Read this and weep. She stared at it for a moment then slowly, gradually, her body started to rock, forwards and backwards.

The sound of a door banging in a distant corridor reverberated around the building, breaking her abstraction. She looked around at the windowless room, the empty, off-white walls; the grey metal door; the dazzling light bulb in the middle of the ceiling that made her eyes ache; the grey flecked ‘easy clean’ flooring. A smell of bleach pervaded the air.

Anna felt a pang in her bladder as her eyes focused on the small cubicle in the corner. She quivered, wrinkled her nose. The thought of using what was inside didn’t appeal.

Footsteps and the jingle of metal brought her attention back to the door, her nemesis and barrier to the outside world. She held her breath as they halted for a second, before moving on, fading into the distance. It wasn’t her turn yet.

Anna massaged her shins gently through the navy jogging suit that hung off her tiny frame. She wriggled uncomfortably as the folds of material rubbed against the bare skin beneath, resenting being ordered to wear it, like a young child whose mother chooses their wardrobe.

Thoughts of her own mum made her shudder. She closed her eyes and imagined the scene at her parents’ home right now. This was supposed to be their special evening, their 30th wedding anniversary celebration. The invitations had been sent out weeks ago. She could see their friends arriving all smiles and congratulations, only to be turned away, only to be disappointed …

The camera in the far corner of the room faced her disconcertingly. Her bladder bounced in her stomach again and she scowled at the thought of them watching her, clenching her teeth in an effort to fight away the tears, cursing her tendency to cry when angry. Were they watching her body language?

Another distant noise in the corridor outside. Thud, thud, thud, at regular intervals. She clutched her stomach. She really needed the toilet. The footsteps were measured, precise and getting louder. She listened intently, trying to block out the other noises: the whir of the camera, the jangle of metal, the voices in the background, which all conspired to dull her hearing. The sound of a key being inserted into the lock followed. The door opened to reveal a man in black uniform looking slightly dishevelled. His hair was in dire need of a cut, his nose flattened as if, in the distant past, it had been on the receiving end of a good, hard punch.

“Anna Cottrell?” he asked. “Yes?”

“Your solicitor is on the phone for you.” He held out a cordless telephone. Anna jumped off the bed, tripping over her own feet in her haste to reach it.

“Will, is that you?”

“It’s me. Are you OK?”

“No, I need help.” She failed to draw breath, speaking quickly, as if the call would be ended at any moment.

“I’m on my way. Do you need anything?” he asked gently.

“Just you to get me out of here.”

“Sit tight. I’ll be there in twenty minutes…”

***

Two hours earlier, Anna switched to second gear as she free-wheeled down the hill and past the wrought iron sign indicating the entrance to Little Hampstead, completing her three mile journey home from work in the nearby midlands city of Hampton.

Due to its close proximity to the city, the small village of Little Hampstead was rapidly losing its sense of community. As long-standing residents died or moved into care, their properties were snatched up at over-inflated prices by professional people seeking the refuge of a rural, countryside setting. The school had closed two years ago, the post office six months later. Even the old village shop building was covered in tarpaulin, as builders worked steadfastly to turn it into the next hot residential property. What was left was a ghost village, the presence of the majority of its 400 inhabitants only noticeable by their wheelie bins on collection day. This suited Anna, she much preferred this environment to the goldfish bowl community where her parents lived.

Dark rain clouds, swept along by a bustling wind, threatened the November sky. Thankful for the assistance of bright street lighting as she entered the village, she slowed at the crossroads and turned right into Flax Street.

The familiar hum of her mobile phone started as she arrived outside number 22. She braked, fished her phone out of her pocket. “Mum” flashed on the screen. Manoeuvring herself off her bike, she sighed and pressed the answer button. “Hi, Mum.”

“Anna. Where are you?” The voice was brittle with panic.

“Calm down, I’m outside the flat. I just need to get changed and I’ll be over,” Anna said.

“Did you pick up the serviettes?”

“Yes, I have them. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Make it half an hour.” The call was ended. Anna sighed again and raised her eyes skywards. She put her phone back in her pocket and wheeled her bicycle towards the opening that divided the cluster of terraces, sympathetically converted into apartments, and stopped, waiting expectantly.

“Damn that light,” she muttered and gave up the wait, proceeding to wheel her bicycle through the aperture between the houses, which was bathed in darkness.

As she reached the rear of the property she was grateful for the slice of natural light the moon supplied as it broke out between the clouds, enabling her to see clearly enough to climb the steps to the entrance of her home. Using all the might in her slender body she lifted her bicycle, carrying it up to the door of Flat 22a.

It wasn’t until she reached the top stair, placed her bike down against the wall and fumbled in her bag for her keys, that she realised something was wrong. The door was ajar.

Anna stared at the open door for a moment, nonplussed. Did I close it this morning? She thought. She couldn’t remember locking it. Surely, I didn’t leave it open? Aware of the habitual rush that dictated her morning routine, she let her mind ponder these questions as her eyes searched around.

And then they found it, as they would a small crack in a windscreen: splinters down the side of the door, close to the Yale lock, chips that exposed the bare wood underneath the red paint, indicating that the door had been forced. Her body froze. A shiver rolled down the back of her head, gathering momentum as it descended, like an icy, cold waterfall.

She stood for a moment, glued to the spot, glancing around at the neighbouring terraces, praying for some sign of life.

Her senses heightened. She became aware of her own shallow breathing, the noise exacerbated by the growing darkness, and the knowledge that she was alone. On this side of the door at least.

With a sudden movement, she pushed the door with her fingertips. “Who’s there?” she called out, trying to hide the panic threatening to break her pitch. Her voice disappeared into the silence of the night.

Anna sucked a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second as she held it, a gesture intended to muster any remaining courage, before she pushed the door open further to expose an empty hallway. Relief squashed the air out of her lungs. This part of the house, in any event, was empty. Her shoulders relaxed and she reached around the left hand side of the doorframe, fingertips searching for the light switch. Finally they found it and with a short click, bathed the hallway in the poor, limited light of a low energy light bulb.

The light revealed very little: a small shoe rack containing a pair of black ankle boots next to muddy trainers to the left; four coat hooks above, upon which hung a single, black fleece jacket; a quarry tiled floor, covered for the most part by a colourful Turkish rug her parents had brought her back from a holiday.

Anna paused for a moment, her eyes darting around. There were only two doors off the hallway. The first on the right led to the kitchen and was ajar, the second directly opposite led initially to the lounge, following on to a double bedroom and small bathroom. This door was closed. The main entrance provided the only access to the flat, which occupied the first floor of the old house. The only access, she thought to herself. Whoever had forced this door would have also left this way. If they have left.

A tremble rippled through her body. Her hands shook as she parked her bicycle outside against the wall, removed the rucksack and rummaged in her pocket for her mobile phone. One bar of charge showed up on the lit panel. She gently pressed a button, switching the sound to silent, pressed three nines consecutively and placed it back in her pocket, her thumb perched over the call button, before stepping into the hallway.

Silence saturated the flat. She stood still for some time listening for any little sound, before gingerly placing her hand against the kitchen door. Deftly, she put one foot inside and peered behind the doorway. Relief again flooded her veins. It was clear.

Bizarrely, Anna felt an adrenalin rush at this point. This extraordinary turn of events felt like an out-of-body experience, the scene of a film set, where her alter ego was on an escapade of discovery. It was the kind of story that one would relate later at dinner parties to friends who would hang on every word. But this is no film, no story, thought Anna. Another shiver. It shot down her back this time, making her tremble again. This is right here, right now. This is real.

Reaching for the second drawer on the left, the kitchen light still off, she opened it and slowly felt around, eventually drawing out a long, sharp carving knife. Armed with mobile phone and knife, her confidence rose as she approached the lounge door. A strong metallic smell filled the air.

Holding the knife firmly between her thumb and forefinger, she pushed hard. It swung open to reveal a large room, which the small streak of light seeping through from the hallway had little effect on illuminating. Just as she was cursing her laziness at leaving the long, heavily lined curtains drawn that same morning, she stopped. What was that? She shrank back into the hallway. There it is again. Tap, tap, tap. So quiet she could barely hear it. She allowed only very short, controlled breaths – as if it would impede her hearing. Nothing. Were her ears playing tricks on her? No, there it is again.

Anna retreated through the hallway and turned around, following the sound. There it was – the chain on the back of the door was hanging down, tapping against the back of the wood in the wind. She sighed heavily, relaxed her shoulders and turned back towards the lounge.

She repeated her earlier actions, this time reaching around the right hand side of the doorframe, a few fingers freed from the knife to search for the switch. Suddenly, the room was immersed in light. But her fingers felt soft and sticky this time and, as she drew her hand back into view, she noticed they were covered in a red liquid. It was then that she raised her eyes.

Anna gasped, dropping the knife. Panic surged through her body like a tidal wave. Her right hand clasped the doorframe tightly to prevent herself from falling as her legs weakened. She felt as if she was drowning, fiercely battling against a weight of water that was rapidly pushing her down. The room started to spin, mixing up colours, until everything was a blur. The heat in her head rose as she fought the urge to faint.

Acid rose in her throat and for a moment Anna stood there, head hung, sickly tears running down her face. Finally she turned back to face the horror of the room’s contents, opened her mouth but her voice caught, suppressing any sound as she pressed the ring button on her mobile phone.

Chapter Two

Detective Chief Inspector Helen Lavery was standing beside the toilet, watching her fifteen-year-old son retch and cast out the poisoned contents of his stomach like an overflowing drainage pipe, when her mobile phone rang.

“Damn! Hold on a minute, Matthew,” she said, patting his shoulder before walking out of the room. He looked up helplessly. The truth was that he couldn’t hold on even if he had wanted to.

She reached into her pocket as she crossed the landing and answered on the fifth ring, just before the voicemail kicked in.

“Yes?”

“Ma’am, this is Inspector Henton. I’m sorry to bother you this evening, but you are the Duty SIO.” It was a statement more than a question, as if he sensed her irritation, the intrusion into her evening.

“Yes, I believe so,” she replied, reaching down to grab a notebook and pen from her bedside table. “What do you have for me?”

“Uniform were called to a flat in Little Hampstead at 6pm this evening, where they found a body with multiple stab wounds. Paramedics have certified it dead and the Duty DI is on the scene.” The control room Inspector’s voice was rushed, keen to pass on this information, as if the end of his shift were approaching.

“Any suspects?” Helen asked as she opened her wardrobe, her fingers flicking through the endless hanging clothes, most of which hadn’t been worn in years.

“Only the informant, an Anna Cottrell, who claims she arrived home from work to find the body of a stranger in her flat.”

“Who is the inspector at the scene?” she said, as she crossed the room and rummaged through the washing basket, pulling out a white, jersey shirt.

“Acting DI Townsend.” Helen closed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking a stray strand of her dark, bobbed hair behind her left ear as she dug through the archives of her brain, recalling her memories of Simon Townsend.

During her first year in the force they had worked on the same shift. His nickname was “Cuff” because he was known for cuffing off jobs, choosing to do as little as possible. His reputation for being lecherous was legendary and none of the female officers liked to be crewed up with him. But there was one incident that was soldered on to her brain cells.

On one particular night shift he was paired with a junior PC, Janet Bland, a new recruit just out of training. They were tasked with staking out an industrial estate that had experienced a number of burglaries in recent months. They arrived by car and were required to patrol the area on foot every couple of hours.

Whilst alone on patrol PC Bland was accosted by three male assailants. Although she managed to shout for assistance on her radio, by the time emergency support arrived, she had been badly beaten. Townsend claimed that it had happened while he had momentarily broken contact to relieve his bladder nearby.

Bland was in hospital for six weeks afterwards, and did not return to the force. Helen never found out whether this was due to the extent of her injuries (which included cracked ribs, a broken femur and a detached retina), or as a result of the mental trauma the incident had caused. Janet, while refusing to make a formal complaint, later confided to her colleagues that Townsend had chosen to sleep in the car, rather than accompany her on patrol. The episode cast a shadow over the whole station for many months afterwards.

Whether or not Townsend was disciplined, Helen was too junior in rank at the time to know. He transferred to the Metropolitan police shortly afterwards. She’d heard that he had been promoted to Sergeant a couple of years ago and returned to the Hamptonshire force last year when his marriage broke up, but their paths had not crossed. Until now. She wondered how anybody, even a reformed character, with Townsend’s background could rise through the ranks to Acting Inspector.

“Ma’am?” The voice at the other end of the line jolted her back to the present. “Would you like his mobile number?”

“No, I have it,” she lied. “Is there a Duty DS on scene?”

“Yes, DS Pemberton.” Helen cast her eyes to the ceiling in relief. “I will take his mobile number please.” She scribbled down the digits, clicked to end the call and quickly changed out of her jeans and sweater into the tired looking suit she’d picked out, breathing in to fasten the size twelve trousers. She threw the shirt over her head, donned the jacket and reached over to grab her mobile phone, punching in DS Pemberton’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“DS Pemberton.” The thick, Northern accent disclosed his Yorkshire roots.

“Sergeant, this is DCI Lavery. I’m the Duty SIO this evening. What do we have?” she said as she scrambled around the bedroom, lifting the remote, moving books off the bedside table, in search of her watch.

“Have the control room not briefed you?” he asked, an indication of surprise in his voice.

“In your own words, Sergeant.”

“Certainly… Well, control room were called to 22a Flax Street, Little Hampstead at six o’clock this evening by a twenty-four-year old female who claimed she’d returned home from work to find the door forced and the stabbed body of a white male, approximately fifty years old, in her flat. An ambulance was called who certified death at six-fifteen, and I arrived while the paramedics were on site.” He articulated these facts efficiently and she was impressed by his competence, as always. Helen had worked with DS Pemberton for a couple of months on “Operation Sandy” the previous year, where she had led a team seeking to reduce the number of distraction burglaries in Hamptonshire. He was an old school detective with plenty of experience.

“What action has been taken, so far?” she asked, as her eyes found her watch, laid on top of the bookcase.

“DI Townsend is with me. Would you like a word?”

“In a moment. Please continue.” Helen reached over and grabbed her watch, precariously balancing the phone between her chin and neck whilst fastening the catch.

“Errr… Of course.” There was a trace of perception in his voice, betraying his awareness of the inspector’s reputation. “Uniform cordoned off the area, preserving the crime scene. They called out the Force Medical Examiner who is here now and the CSIs, who have just arrived, and took an initial account of events from the suspect. We’ve started house-to-house within the vicinity. Just waiting for the pathologist.”

“What do we know about the suspect?”

“Very little. No previous record. She works as a teacher in a local school, has lived in the flat for two years. Claims the victim is a complete stranger to her.”

“Any weapon?”

“A carving knife was found at the scene.”

Helen narrowed her eyes as she scribbled down the details. “Where is the suspect now?”

“She has been arrested and escorted to the station. She was found by the entrance to the room where the body was found, knife beside her.”

“OK. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t let anybody move anything and make sure the Crime Scene Manager logs every movement, both into and out of the house.” Helen cringed as the words flew out of her mouth before she was able to stop them. DS Pemberton would be well aware that this was the first time she had headed a murder investigation. Coupled with the fact that she had only served a short spate in CID as a Detective Sergeant during her ten-year service (a constraint of the accelerated promotion scheme), she knew that she had a lot to prove. And she also knew that her every move would be scrutinised not only by her superiors, but also by her own team.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll speak to Inspector Townsend now.”

She could hear a momentary shuffle in the background as the phone was handed over. Townsend must have been standing right next to him.

“Good evening, ma’am. I…”

Helen cut in. “Good evening, Inspector,” she said and, not wishing to invite conversation, quickly continued, “When you have familiarised yourself with the crime scene can you please get back and secure us an incident room? I believe Cross Keys is the nearest station to Flax Street?”

“It is,” he replied.

“Good. Then I’ll leave it to you to set things up. The press will be crawling all over this very soon and we need to be prepared. And start calling in the DCs,” she paused for a moment, rubbing her forehead. “I’ll call you back before you do that. OK?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you at the station.” She clicked the button to end the call and started jotting down names of particular detectives for her homicide team.

***

Just over twenty minutes later Helen flashed her badge at the PC who was blowing hot air into his hands, rubbing them together and stamping his feet in an effort to keep warm. He moved aside, allowing her to walk through the gap between the houses and climb the rear steps which led to the entrance of Flat 22a. As she arrived at the entrance hall she could see DS Pemberton, talking to a man in a long, black coat with his back to her.

“Detective.” She nodded to DS Pemberton and immediately the black-coated figure turned to face her.

“Good Lord!” he exclaimed.

“Good evening, Charles,” she said, relieved that, out of the limited number of pathologists that serviced their area, she had struck gold. Dr Charles Burlington was captivated by his work, his lengthy career providing him with a wealth of experience.

“Helen, how lovely to see you!” His face lit up as he extended his hand, but she didn’t miss the glint of surprise in his eyes. She shook his hand warmly and smiled.

“How are those little boys?” he asked, as he recovered himself and stood back to survey her fully.

“Oh, you know, teenagers,” she replied, the smile still playing on her lips.

“Teenagers. Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Then it really must be quite a few years since we saw each other. Do give them a slap on the back from their uncle Charles. I’m sure I must owe them both a rugby tackle.”

“I think Matthew would give you a run for your money these days. He must be six inches taller than you.” She laughed. It was good to see Charles. He’d been a great friend to her late father, and the family. They resolved to stay in touch after the funeral though work, family routine and moving house had restricted their contact for many years to Christmas cards. She noticed his thick, curly brown hair had transformed to white and crows’ feet had crept in around the eyes, but in spite of his age he still kept himself trim.

“How is Sarah?” she asked, creasing her forehead, trying to think when she had last seen her. It must have been John’s funeral, she thought to herself. John, Helen’s husband, had died suddenly in 2000. Helen remembered Charles’ devoted wife fondly. She was one of those women who had given up her job as soon as their first child had been born, and once they had grown up and left home, dedicated her life to gardening, home cooking and exercising the family collie.

“Running around after the grandchildren these days, reliving her childhood,” he replied. Silence followed as he started to look around the blood-bathed room. “And what do we have here?” He was focusing on the corpse now, sat up against the large sofa that dominated the room. “Are you working on this one?” he added, turning his attention back to her.

“Heading the investigation actually,” she replied, watching the surprise in his eyes warm to comprehension. “So, I’m going to need your help Charles.”

“Well, well. Following in your father’s footsteps, I see?” James Lavery had dedicated the majority of his career to the Homicide Team in Hamptonshire. It was his stories, his enthusiasm for the job, sheer tenacity and desire to make a difference that had rubbed off on Helen during her formative years. Leading the Homicide Team had been her ambition for as long as she could remember.

He looked back into the room. “We’d better get started then.” She watched him move over towards the body, encased in his own world of forensic pathology and turned back to face the sergeant.

DS Pemberton was an imposing sight, a bear of a man in height and width with a shiny, bald head. The last ten of his twenty years in the force had been served as a detective and, having worked on the homicide team for five years before moving out to Area, he was completely comfortable in this environment.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, his voice so deep it sounded as though it had been lifted from the pit of his stomach. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, Sean. And you?”

He nodded. “Can’t grumble.”

Helen turned and looked over the scene properly for the first time. “So, what do we know about this chap?” Pemberton started shaking his head before she’d even completed her sentence. “No wallet? Doesn’t anybody recognise him?” she asked. With the amount of police staff and civilians that had passed through this room in the last hour, it was very possible that somebody might have recognised him.

“Nothing. We’ve checked his pockets. There’s nothing on him that indicates his identity.”

“Can I move him?” Helen turned around, following the voice. It was Charles, bent over the body, calling to one of the Scenes of Crime officers.

“Yes, we’re done in that area,” he called back.

“Excellent,” Charles replied, shuffling around the corpse, absorbed in his work.

Helen looked back at Pemberton, her thoughts racing. “Has anyone taken prints?” she asked.

“Not yet, as far as I’m aware.”

“Get somebody to bring down a mobile fingerprint machine, would you?” she said. “At least then we could get the prints run through the system to see if he is known to us. We could do with identifying him as soon as possible.”

Pemberton nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a mobile phone. He turned and walked into the hallway as he made the call.

Helen stood and surveyed the walls showered in blood, looked across the floor. Finally her gaze rested on the corpse. Male, aged around mid-fifties she guessed, with grey, thinning hair. She tried to look beyond the blood wounds and extensive stains on his body. His appearance was generally unkempt, his hair greasy, his clothes ragged, as if they had seen better days. Yet he didn’t look like a tramp. He wasn’t dirty enough for that.

She glanced over at Pemberton as he strode back into the room. “What did the FME say about time of death?” The Force Medical Examiner, or FME, was a local GP who attended murder scenes to certify time of death.

Pemberton stifled a chuckle. “Sometime within the last four hours,” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” Helen said incredulous. “What good is that?”

“Let’s hope he comes up with something more accurate.” Pemberton nodded towards Charles who was now on his knees, suitcase opened, hard at work. Helen walked over to him.

“What do you have for me, Charles?” she asked.

“Well, of course it’s very early to say,” he replied, as he turned his head sideways to look up at her, “but I would say that this killer knew exactly what he was doing.”

“How do you mean?” She bent over to look as he turned the body over on to its back.

“Look here, and here.” He pointed out two large stab wounds surrounded by congealed blood. “The knife was inserted from the front on all the wounds. He was facing his assailant the whole time.”

“Interesting.” Helen knitted her brows.

“And look where the wounds are placed. In my experience of stabbings, the assailant is almost whipped into a frenzy, providing far too many wounds because they panic and don’t know when to stop. This is not the frenzied attack it initially appears. It looks as though our killer was going for main arteries and organs, hence the blood spatter,” he gesticulated to the walls adding, “I would say that this was probably his first blow.” He leant over and pointed at the heart. “The first and the fatal blow. Nobody could put up much resistance to that.”

“Are you saying it was somebody skilled, a doctor perhaps?”

“Not necessarily, you don’t even need A level biology to work out where the major arteries and organs are placed. All you’d have to do is read a few books. You could get it all on the Internet these days. No. What I’m saying is that he went for a quick death. He wanted him dead quickly and only continued to wound to make sure he was dead.” DS Pemberton had joined them now and they were all staring at the victim, wide-eyed. It felt as though they were the only three living people in the whole room.

“And look at the smear marks over there.” Charles pointed across the floor. “The victim would probably have crumpled and fallen face down, in a ball like configuration, from these wounds. But the killer didn’t leave him there. He dragged him over to the sofa and sat him up against it, to face whoever walked through that door,” he said, lifting his head to look over at the entrance adding, “eyes open deliberately, for maximum effect. He was intent on creating quite a show.”

Helen stared at Pemberton and then back at the body, “What about time of death?” she asked eventually, breaking the silence.

“Difficult to be exact,” Charles said, shrugging apologetically.

“Some indication would be useful.”

“Well, he’s pretty much bled out. Considering the cold weather conditions and the lack of heating in here, his size and the pooling of the blood…” He looked at his notes, “body temperature and rigor mortis just setting in around the neck and shoulders…” He appeared to be talking to himself at this point. “I would say he has been dead for about three hours, estimating time of death at any time before five o’clock. But that is only an estimation,” he looked up at Helen, as if to confirm this statement, “I’ll be more sure when I open him up tomorrow.”

“OK, thank you,” she said.

“I understand from your officer here that you possibly have the murder weapon?” Charles asked as he carefully packed the last remaining items into his briefcase.

“Yes, a carving knife was found next to the suspect,” DS Pemberton broke in.

Charles fastened his briefcase and rose to standing. “A kitchen carving knife? Are you sure?” He stared at the sergeant, perplexed.

“I believe so. That’s what it looked like to me. We’ve had it measured and sent it back to the station for examination.”

“What’s the matter, Charles?” Helen asked.

“Well, I can’t be sure until I perform the autopsy tomorrow, but I’d say that the blade that caused these wounds was rougher than a mere kitchen carving knife. More like that of a hunting knife.” He stood up as he spoke, pulled the rubber glove off his right hand and held it out. As Helen reached to shake it he added, “I guess I’ll see you at the autopsy in the morning. We’ll firm everything up then.” He nodded at Pemberton and waved to the CSI team, before exiting the flat.

Later, Helen pulled her jacket around her to prevent the chilly air from biting into her chest as she crossed Flax Street and walked around the corner. The wind had died down now, but not before it cleared the sky of clouds, leaving way for a heavily frosty night. When she reached her car she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, flicked through the contacts until she located home and pressed the dial. The call was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” a voice whispered.

“Hi, it’s me. How’s Matthew?” she asked, as she climbed into her car.

“He’s OK. Don’t worry. He’s sleeping now. How about you?”

“Will you make sure he’s laid on his side?”

“He’s fine, really. I’ll go check on him again in a moment. How’s it going?”

“Yeah, fine thanks. Looks like I’m going to be late though, and probably in for most of the weekend.”

“I kind of guessed that. Look, don’t worry, I can handle things here. You just do whatever you need to and I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it. See you later.” Helen ended the call, ignited the engine and rested back into her seat as she pulled out into the darkness. It was going to be a long night…

***

People show an amazing array of different reactions to a dead body. Some are frightened, afraid that the corpse will return to life and try to avenge their attacker, like in a film; some are horrified at the scene, the circumstances in which a person lost their life; some are sad, they grieve for the victim, think of their friends, their family, the lost years of life and opportunity; others are matter-of-fact, like the emergency services who are more accustomed to such sights and whose senses have numbed over the years as a result. Anna hadn’t felt any of these emotions. In fact, she hadn’t thought about the body at all. Until now.

As she finished talking to her solicitor and watched the cell door bang closed, she realised that, so far, her mind had focused on her incarceration, consuming her with anger tainted by the fear of being imprisoned. It had blocked out all earlier events, which felt like a blur, a whirlwind. An extraordinary out-of-body experience.

She recalled the blood splattered over her lounge, like a scene from a horror film. Who would have thought that one person’s body could contain so much blood? She thought for a moment – a person. This blood had belonged to somebody. An overwhelming feeling of shame engulfed her. She had been consumed with the incomprehensible inconvenience to her life. He had lost his… Her stomach churned, but this time her bladder did not call out to her – it seemed to have frozen.

Anna forced her mind to push further into its depths. A lacerated body sat facing her on the floor. The eyes… She shuddered, shaking as she recalled the eyes open wide, staring at her. Eyes that had belonged to someone. Panic pulsed through her veins as realisation set in. The victim of this atrocity belonged to someone. The brutal truth of this fact made the pain in her head sear until her brain felt as if it were splitting in two. This was somebody’s father, brother, husband, son…

Somewhere, some family would be disturbed this evening. Possibly watching a film, or putting the kids to bed, or maybe sitting down to dinner – a normal routine family evening, ruined by a knock at the door.

As they answered the door and saw the police officers wearing their hats, speaking in a solemn tone – “May we come in?” – their minds would race, overwhelmed with questions. Who was it? What has happened? They would brace themselves for bad news. Maybe they would think that their car had been stolen? But the police officers’ tone would be too serious, their manner too empathetic and, once invited into the sitting room, they would ask them to sit down. Then, they knew it was serious – an accident, maybe even a death. Anna shuddered…

She imagined then that the questions would start. “Was your husband wearing a certain colour jacket when he left home today? Did he leave the house wearing grey trousers?” And this may instil an element of hope in the victim’s family. Anyone could match that description, it was nothing significant. But then the mention of something personal like a white gold, engraved wedding ring would crush all ambiguity – and they would know, there would be no doubt.

The breathing would stop, they would clutch their head and in one moment their world would be shattered – all because of that knock at the door. And they would gaze up at the clock, reading the time when their life had changed irrevocably.

Tears streamed down Anna’s face. Would they think it was her? That she could even be capable of causing such pain, such devastation? The thoughts made her head go hot and dizzy. Sweat coursed down the back of her neck as she jumped off the bed and rushed to the toilet in the corner, pushing strands of hair out of her face as she retched.

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