LITMIR.BIZ

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into the forest, then stopping, certain that the ghosts of the strangled girls were nearby. He nearly pissed himself getting back to the car, his chums in no better shape.

      It took more than the idea of a specter to run him off a case now.

      He stepped out of the Waverly train station into a spitting cold rain at half six, grabbed a taxi and headed up the Royal Mile.

      The rain began falling in earnest. He ducked into the alleyway that led to The Witchery, one of his favorite restaurants in the world. He skipped the main dining room and went to the second door, to what was known as the Secret Garden. The maître d’ recognized him, gave him a wide smile.

      “My Lord Dulsie, what a pleasure to see you. As always. Our favorite earl is below. Shall I take you to him?”

      “Yes, please, Alfred. Lovely to see you as well.”

      They descended the stairs under the watchful eye of a large elk. The earl was tucked away in the corner, at the best table, his serious brown eyes focused on the menu, though he knew it by heart.

      Memphis let Alfred take his coat and slid into the chair opposite. “Happy Birthday, Father. You’re looking well.”

      The earl set his menu down and smiled warmly at his eldest son. “Ah, James, my boy. So good to see you. You’ve come alone? If I had known I’d have invited Jenny Blakely.” He cast an appraising eye over his son.

      His father was forever hoping he’d get over the death of Evan and find a new woman to settle down with, and was keen on making the match himself. They’d had a few minor rows about it already, his father proclaiming, “If this was two hundred years ago, I’d have made the match for you and you would have thanked me for it.” The earl was full of it. He was about as dedicated to the antiquities of the peerage as Memphis was.

      “Jenny Blakely is a pretentious cow and you know it.”

      The earl spit out a laugh, then shook his head in admonishment. “Now, now, Memphis, that’s no way to talk about a lady.”

      “She’s not a lady, Father. Have you seen the mole on her eye? It deserves a title of its own.”

      They went on like this for an hour, teasing, poking, eating a luscious meal and chasing it with a fine port. The earl grew serious as he signed the bill.

      “I know this is a difficult time for you, James. Why don’t you come to Johannesburg with us? Get away from here. From the ghost of Evanelle. I can see her haunting you, still. It breaks my heart to see you suffer.”

      Memphis squeezed his father’s arm. “I know it does. I promise, things are better. But no, I won’t be able to get away. Work, you know. And I’ve invited a friend to come stay for the holiday.”

      “A friend?” His father wasn’t subtle, he waggled his eyebrows at him lasciviously. Memphis smiled.

      “A good friend. The investigator I met in Nashville. I’ve mentioned her before, I believe. Taylor Jackson.”

      “You have. Well. I hope that she comes. For your sake. No one should spend Christmas alone.”

      “No need to worry about me, Father. I have more than enough to keep me busy.”

      The earl insisted on dropping Memphis at the station, good-naturedly grumbling about him not coming back to the estate. They parted with a hearty handshake, as always, and Memphis boarded the last train back up to London.

      Accepting a cup of tea from the trolley girl, he checked his email and sighed. He was in for a long night. The commander hadn’t bothered to wait until the morning; he was calling Memphis into the Straithwhite case immediately.

      So much for his escape.

      Despite his grousing to Taylor, he had to admit this case was intriguing. A challenge. He always did love a challenge.

      He put a call in to his detective constable, Penelope Micklebury, known far and wide as Pen. She answered on the first ring, the annoyance clear in her voice.

      “Left me to stand in the rain while you had a beautiful dinner with Daddy, eh, Memphis?”

      “My repasts are none of your concern, Pen. You eat like a bird anyway, you would have hated it. Tureens of soup and platters overflowing with rich, juicy meat. I can barely move, I’m creakingly full.”

      Pen was a vegan; she moaned aloud at the thought. “That stuff’s going to rot you from the inside, Memphis.”

      “Perhaps. Where are you?”

      He could hear her heels clicking on the pavement, then a door slammed and things quieted down. She must have stepped into her car.

      “Victoria. Had a date. Did you get a call from the Boy Toy?” she asked in turn.

      “He sent me an email. I’ve just seen it. And if you keep calling him that, he will find out. And I won’t be able to save you.”

      “It’s just a bleeding nickname. You’ll be in tomorrow?”

      “Unless you need me tonight?”

      “No. I’ve got things covered here. Assembling the files, all that. Go and have a rest.”

      “Fine, Pen. Until then.”

      He hung up, watched the lights from the village to his right flash by as the train crossed the countryside. In the daylight, this was a beautiful part of the trip, but in the darkness it became murky and lonely. A fitting scene, really. He was feeling rather lonely tonight.

      CHAPTER SIX

      Taylor and Baldwin were both quiet on the drive downtown. Another indignity—Taylor hadn’t been cleared to drive yet. She was dependent on Baldwin, or Sam, to get her around town. She was tempted to get a car service, but stopped when she realized she’d be just like her mother, chauffeured around by relative strangers. Kitty Jackson hadn’t been in the front seat of a car for two decades.

      She wondered briefly what Kitty was up to. They hadn’t spoken since Taylor had arrested her father and sent him to jail. Even though Kitty and Win had been divorced since Taylor was in college, the woman always took his side. Taylor knew it had nothing to do with a soft spot for Win and their once-happy life, and everything to do with the embarrassment of the scandal. Tongues wagged throughout Davidson County’s elite when Taylor had sent her own father to prison.

      She colored at the memory, anger rising. Typical that the consensus would be that she’d acted impetuously rather than that Win deserved condemnation for breaking the law. It was one of the reasons she eschewed her mother’s social set; the values and morals were a bit askew. In their minds, every family had a blackguard. It just wasn’t seemly to draw attention to such a situation.

      She chased the thoughts away as Baldwin pulled in in front of the Criminal Justice Center. Snow began to fall in tiny, glittery flakes, making the brown bricks shimmer. Taylor felt a great sense of contentment run through her, the same she felt every time she looked at her office. She was home. And soon she’d be allowed to get back to her first love: the job.

      She smiled at Baldwin, and he grinned back at her.

      “Go on. It’s noon now. I’ll be back to get you at two. Okay?”

      She touched his hand briefly in acquiescence then got out of the car. Breathed deep lungfuls of chilly, snowy air. Tried to keep the skip out of her step as she crossed to the stairs, dug her pass card out of her back pocket. She swiped it and almost got teary at the noise of the door unlocking.

      The hall smelled like Clorox. The floors had just been scrubbed, almost as if they’d been sanitized for her return.

      The Homicide offices were full, her elite team—the murder squad—all in attendance. A full house meant no active calls, and a chance for everyone to catch up on their paperwork. They weren’t here for her. No one knew she was coming in today.

      She hesitated for a moment in the doorway,

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