They turned to Megan. Regardless of the rising sun, and the chirping birds, and the whispering sisters, she was still sound asleep. She had barely even shifted her position on the lounger. It was an indication to Hope of how utterly exhausted Megan’s body was. It also helped her to better understand why Megan hadn’t woken up when Carter had climbed from the cellar into the study.

  ‘Although Megan would have gotten a terrible shock if she had found Carter slinking next to her in the middle of the night,’ Summer said, ‘I’m certain that she would have stopped him in his tracks. She would have hit him on the head with the nearest knick-knack; he would have dropped to the floor like a stone; we would have called the police to arrest him for breaking and entering…’ She drew a sudden sharp breath. ‘If that had happened, he would probably still be alive.’

  Hope looked at her, startled. ‘That never occurred to me. But you’re right. If Carter had been arrested, he wouldn’t have drowned in the retention pool.’

  Summer drew another breath, this one long and melancholy. ‘And all because he wanted that book.’

  ‘The book? You think that’s the reason…’ Hope broke off abruptly. In her daze upon waking that morning, she had forgotten all about the book. Instantly panicked, she spun in her seat and jerked up the edge of the cushion. A wave of relief washed over her. The book was still there, wedged next to the arm of the settee. She pulled the book out and held it tightly in her hand. ‘He didn’t take it,’ she exhaled.

  ‘Who didn’t take it? Are you talking about Dylan?’

  ‘Yes. He saw where I put the book last night for safekeeping, and you said that he was tucking the quilt very thoroughly around me. He could have easily helped himself to the book in the process.’

  ‘Dylan did show a great deal of interest in the book,’ Summer agreed, ‘certainly enough that he could want to take another look at it.’ She added with a sigh, ‘And I had the impression from Dylan’s remarks that Nate was awfully interested in the book, too.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Summer sighed again. ‘Well, there isn’t much that can be done about it now. We can’t put the cat back in the bag, so to speak. We can only try to limit the damage as much as possible by not letting either Nate or Dylan have any more contact with the book. The real damage, of course, is what happened to Carter.’

  ‘That’s what you meant before?’ Hope asked her. ‘You think the book is the reason that Carter died?’

  ‘Don’t you think so?’ Summer returned. ‘Is there any other explanation for why someone would kill him?’

  ‘There was the affair with Jill Berg.’

  She shook her head. ‘That hasn’t even been confirmed. We only have Austin’s word for it. Maybe there was an affair between Jill and Carter, or maybe the affair involved someone else entirely. Either way, it’s too weak to build a murder case on.’

  ‘Except you were the one who directly accused Austin of being the murderer because of his anger over the affair,’ Hope reminded her.

  Summer shrugged. ‘That was yesterday afternoon. We thought Carter had been electrocuted then. Now we know that he was drowned with the hoses. And now we also know that he had the book hidden in his cloak.’

  ‘But if the murderer wanted the book from him, wouldn’t they have simply taken it out of his cloak?’

  ‘Not necessarily. They might not have known that Carter had the book in his possession. Or they might not have been able to reach it in the pool because of the water and the hoses. Or they might have had to make an unexpectedly quick getaway because you and Rosemarie came outside to look for Percy.’

  Hope was thoughtful. ‘There’s no question that the book has value – but only to the right person. Plus, that person needs to translate it from Latin.’

  ‘Which is difficult but not impossible,’ Summer responded. ‘With enough time and energy and patience, anybody could translate it eventually using a combination of a dictionary, grammar book, and the internet. But because Latin lacks the capitalization and punctuation that we’re familiar with today in our modern languages, a novice would make a lot of mistakes along the way. And with this particular book, those mistakes would significantly alter its meaning. So I think that a person serious enough to want to steal the book either already has the necessary skills and training to translate it themselves, or they specifically know someone who is able to do it for them.’

  ‘How many people in Asheville and the surrounding area can that include?’

  ‘Perhaps a professor at the university who teaches classical languages? Or someone like Dylan?’

  ‘Speaking of Dylan,’ Hope said, ‘we need to keep our fingers crossed that his proficiency in Latin is even rustier than he claims and that he only understood a few words and phrases of what he read yesterday. It was precarious enough with the mermaid tears and crow eyes. Imagine if he were able to study the book more thoroughly. Or if he got his hands on the other volume, which is the one that contains all of the incantations and…’ She sat bolt upright. ‘Good God. I just remembered. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, Dylan told me that he knew it was the first volume. He saw it on the title page. And then he asked me if there was a second volume.’

  Hope and Summer stared at each other, both coming to the same alarming realization.

  ‘What if this book’ – Hope’s grip on Volume I tightened – ‘wasn’t the only one that Carter took?’

  Summer swallowed hard. ‘What if he also stole Volume II?’

  SIXTEEN

  Depositing their empty coffee mugs next to their empty wine glasses from the previous evening, Hope and Summer hurried from the patio to the flagstone path around the house and toward the driveway. They didn’t worry about leaving Megan behind on the lounger. Between Morris and Gram, Megan was in the best hands possible. In Hope’s hands was the book, held in an iron clasp. After spending the night outside in the fresh air, the book was no longer damp from its swim in the retention pool, and the former mildew smell was now almost imperceptible. But Hope was far less concerned with the spread of the foxing on the pages or the leather peeling from the cover than whether the book’s companion remained amongst the rest of the brownstone’s library in the study.

  The sisters drove as fast as safety allowed. It was relatively early, so the traffic heading into the historic district was thin. When they reached their block, they looked down the row of buildings expectantly.

  ‘Can you tell whether the power is still off?’ Summer asked.

  ‘No. The streetlamps are dark, except that’s normal at this hour of the morning. The windows are also dark, but it’s bright enough outside that we might not be able to see any lights on regardless.’

  They parked the car in its usual spot in the alley behind their property. As they walked along the sidewalk toward their brownstone, they studied the Larsons’.

  ‘The windows are dark there, too,’ Summer observed. ‘No sign at all of Miranda and Paul. Or their contractor.’

  ‘I can’t imagine that the contractor or construction crew would be allowed to come back here for at least the next day or two after what happened,’ Hope remarked, ‘both from a safety and an investigative standpoint.’

  ‘If I were on that crew, and I heard that there had been a murder on the site, I wouldn’t ever return.’

  ‘Fair enough. But unless the Larsons tell them, I’m not sure that the crew will specifically hear about the murder.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because the tape is gone. Take a look.’

  Summer followed Hope’s gesture toward the side lawn. Morris’s conversation with the police chief had indeed been successful, and the chief’s order had apparently been acted on without delay. Not one band of yellow crime scene tape remained visible. The retention pool was still there, as were the rubber hoses, which were now even more tangled than before, no doubt as a result of the police extricating the body from the water.

  The sisters stood for a moment on the edge of the sidewalk, gazing contemplatively at the place where Carter had died.

  ‘We didn’t know him at all,’ Hope said, ‘but I still feel as though we should pay our respects somehow.’

  Summer nodded in agreement. ‘Thief or not, he didn’t deserve to lose his life in that pool.’

  ‘It was so cruel and so—’

  She was interrupted by the rustling of vegetation. Turning toward the noise, Hope was startled to see a man on the side of their brownstone, pushing through the boxwoods along the wall with a sack of tools slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Who is that!’ Summer exclaimed.

  The man was wearing a white T-shirt stained with dark streaks of paint or grease. Beneath an equally soiled baseball cap, his hair hung limply to his shoulders. It seemed to be a safe assumption that he was not a member of law enforcement.

  ‘Hello!’ Summer called to him, more inquisitorial than friendly. ‘What are you doing at our house?’

  He looked at the sisters with little expression. Then he looked down at a sheet of paper that he was holding. ‘Henkin?’

  ‘Huh?’ Summer said.

  ‘Henkin?’ the man repeated. When he didn’t receive a reply, he studied the sheet more closely. ‘No, it’s Henshaw. Are you Henshaw?’

  Hope and Summer exchanged a glance.

  ‘Which Henshaw?’ Hope asked.

  Once again, the man looked at the sheet. ‘I don’t know. There’s only a first initial. I can’t make it out. It might be an M. Whoever answered the call and took down the instructions in the office wrote too fast.’

  ‘What call and instructions?’ Summer said.

  ‘The call and instructions for the job.’ There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, as though the answer should have been obvious to them.

  ‘What job?’ Summer pressed him.

  Now there was distinct annoyance. ‘To seal up the door in this wall.’

  Hope and Summer exchanged another glance. Morris – possibly in conjunction with Dylan – had evidently determined that regardless of any opinion from the Baileys to the contrary, the potato-coal chute was too great of a safety hazard and a security risk and could no longer be allowed to remain accessible from the outside.

  ‘Gram is not going to be pleased,’ Hope remarked to her sister.

  Summer shook her head. ‘She explicitly didn’t agree to Morris’s suggestion last night. She was still undecided.’

  ‘I was told that this was a rush job.’ The man waved the sheet of paper at them. ‘It had to be completed first thing this morning. There was an emergency.’ He frowned at the short metal door set low in the wall. ‘What kind of an emergency is it anyway? Have you got rats coming in?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Summer muttered.

  When no further response was forthcoming, the man grew increasingly impatient. ‘So do you want me to continue or not? Seal it up, yes or no? I’ve got a full schedule today, and I need to keep moving.’

  There was a pause. Hope shrugged at Summer, uncertain how to answer. Summer shrugged back at her.

  ‘Yes,’ Hope told the man at last. ‘Go ahead with the job. Thank you.’

  His reply was limited to a grunt that clearly indicated his irritation at having been stopped in the first place. He turned back toward the wall and began to push through the boxwoods once more. When he had found a position that seemed to suit him, he dropped his sack of tools on the ground and crouched down in front of the door to commence his work.

  Watching him, Hope said to Summer, ‘I think he’s proven you wrong.’

  ‘How so?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Well, it hardly matters now, considering that Megan is no longer sleeping in the study and the door is in the process of being shut permanently, but you told Megan yesterday that with the boxwoods pressed up so tightly against the wall due to the pool and the hoses, the Hermit wouldn’t be able to pry open the door and climb down the chute to the cellar. Although it required some shoving and breaking of branches, that man with his tools has been able to both get to the door and open it without substantial difficulty.’

  ‘Not only has he proven me wrong,’ Summer admitted grudgingly, ‘he’s proven the Henshaws right. If the potato-coal chute can be reached with so little effort – even when the boxwoods are blocking the way – then we’re much better off with it sealed.’

  Hope nodded in agreement.

  ‘And while we’re on the subject of proving people right or wrong,’ Summer continued, ‘that man has also proven Miranda right. Looking at him from here, you can see someone moving along the side of the brownstone, but from a greater distance, if he was wearing a big cloak and there’s drizzle and mist, it’s easy to understand why Miranda didn’t recognize the figure as Carter.’

  Hope nodded again. Then she looked at the Larsons’ brownstone. ‘I still can’t tell if they have power or not.’

  ‘Me, either. We’d better check ours.’

  ‘And check on the other book.’

  They shared a sigh and headed toward the front door of the boutique. Unlocking it, they found the brownstone still without electricity.

  ‘There isn’t much point in opening for business when the lights aren’t working,’ Summer remarked. ‘Not unless we want our customers to stumble into everything and possibly hurt themselves. Do you have any appointments scheduled for today?’

  ‘None. We can use candles and lanterns later on if necessary, but let’s at least wait until noon. That was the time estimate the electric company gave to Megan.’

  ‘Good plan.’

  The sisters lingered in the middle of the shop, neither one moving toward the interior of the brownstone. They weren’t eager to go to the study, apprehensive of what they would find – or not find.

  ‘Standing in this spot,’ Hope mused, ‘makes me think of Gina.’

  ‘Gina?’ Summer gave a little snort. ‘How does it make you think of her? She didn’t leave any of her fancy shopping bags behind again, did she?’

  ‘No, it’s more serious than that.’

  Summer looked at her curiously.

  ‘When Gina was here yesterday during the tea,’ Hope explained, ‘she was standing right about where we are now, and her gaze was repeatedly focused on the doorway at the rear of the shop. She asked about it several times and continued to step toward it. She was really interested in seeing the rest of the brownstone.’

  ‘You think that she knows about the study?’

  ‘Without question. As we discussed earlier on the patio, due to Rosemarie’s chattiness, everybody could know about the study. But in Gina’s case, Rosemarie told her about it directly in front of me, including specifically mentioning old books in the library. And I had the impression that it wasn’t the first time Gina had heard of it, because she didn’t ask any questions; she just kept inching toward the door.’

  ‘But you didn’t let her go through it, did you?’

  ‘Of course not. There were too many ladies here for the tea, and the occupants of the attic were growing increasingly restless. Then Austin burst in with his tirade, and that took everyone’s attention. At some point after Austin’s arrival but before the lights went out completely, Gina disappeared. I didn’t see her leave. Rosemarie said that she didn’t, either. Now it occurs to me that maybe Gina didn’t actually leave. Maybe while we were all distracted by Austin, she went through the door on her own.’

  ‘And presumably into the study?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t really matter after the fact. Carter was the one who took the book, not Gina.’

  Summer considered for a moment. ‘No, I don’t think Gina went through the door and into the study. She’s certainly capable of doing it. She isn’t an honest, upstanding person who wouldn’t enter someone’s home without their permission. She’s an avaricious charlatan who pretends to talk to the dead for money. But if Gina had gone into the rest of the brownstone, Megan would have noticed her come back out. Unlike us, Megan stayed in the boutique the entire time, and she never mentioned seeing Gina later.’

  ‘That’s true. I’m glad you pointed that out. I feel better somehow.’

  ‘Enjoy it while it lasts, because what I’m going to point out next will make you feel worse. If Gina left the boutique between Austin’s arrival and the power outage, then she could have killed Carter.’

  Hope stared at her.

  ‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Summer said. ‘It’s possible, isn’t it?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I know you’ll think that I’m accusing Gina simply because I don’t like her.’

  ‘You don’t like that Nate expressed an interest in attending one of her séances,’ Hope responded.

  Summer grimaced. ‘He better not attend one of her séances. Would you be happy if Dylan attended one of Madam Gina’s séances?’

  She sidestepped the question. ‘Let’s get back to Carter. Yes, from a timing perspective, it’s technically possible that Gina could have killed him. But why would she do that? Because they both lived on Bent Mountain? Because they were in the same book group? What motive could she have?’

  ‘Maybe Gina was having an affair with Carter,’ Summer proposed.

  ‘I thought the affair was with Jill.’

  ‘Maybe or maybe not. As I said on the patio, we only have Austin’s word for it. It could have been Gina instead of Jill. We know from Miranda that Carter was always running after Gina, and constantly calling her, and skulking around her house at odd hours. He could have been stalking her.’

  Hope’s expression was doubtful.

  ‘Carter might have followed Gina to our brownstone,’ Summer hypothesized. ‘Don’t forget, Miranda became less surprised that Carter was there after learning that Gina had also been there. So, Gina got tired of Carter tracking her movements, she confronted him, they had an altercation, and he ended up dead.’

 

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