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“My father loves being part of Graeme’s holt. The benefits far outweigh the money asked for, and what does Graeme do with the funds he collects yearly? They go to things like college scholarships, free medical coverage, and child and elder care.”

“Yes.” Linden chuckled. “Graeme’s a monster, all right.”

I took a breath. “You both probably thought it was stupid for me not to have told Graeme what was going on.”

“No,” Wade replied. “I know some things about a few of Deacon’s buddies that you don’t, and though I will say that I consider Deacon a good man, he was also in over his head with some things. You need to trust implicitly, and that’s not there.”

“No, it’s not.”

“This way, I’ll speak to Graeme, I will go with him when he delivers the bad news to the Wilkeses, and I will make sure that we have backup in case things go sideways. And yes, it sucks for them because they’re paying for something that happened nearly a hundred and fifty years ago and none of it was their choice. But the flip side is, the Lovells, Beriah’s family, they’re about to get some good news.”

“Karma does come around,” Linden said, his voice silky and low. “Sometimes it does take a minute though.”

“You sounded a bit evil there,” I told him.

“Yeah, you did,” Wade agreed. Both of us eyed Linden skeptically.

“What can I tell you? This is why I enjoy crime documentaries. I like hearing how they caught the bad guy. Sometimes you wish it didn’t take so long, but the end is worth it.”

“Well, this will be worth it too,” Wade told me. “You did good. And as long as you didn’t remove the diary from Hudson’s, then you’re legally covered.”

“I didn’t remove it from the premises, it’s simply not anywhere that anyone would ever think to look for it. Not in a million years.”

“Dramatic, but okay,” Wade told me. “I’m sure that at some point, the Maion Council and the Chicago Police Department will need to take custody of the book, and when we do, I’m going to need you to produce it for me, and not from a closet in your bedroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will tell you, when we take custody of the diary, so many copies of that thing are going to be made. Someone is going to make a lot of money writing a book about you finding the diary and bringing down a dynasty.”

“The Wilkeses are hardly a dynasty.” Linden scoffed. “But it sounded good. Very limited-series crime documentary on Netflix.”

“Maybe you could write it,” Wade suggested to me. “You never know.”

But really, it would never be me. I liked being the guy who found the evidence and brought it to light. That was the good part. Writing things up was not the part I enjoyed.

Once I left Wade and Linden’s, I felt so much lighter, and I still had more than enough time to get home, take the lasagna out of the refrigerator, and put it in the oven. I had a salad coming, garlic bread, dessert, and wine. I was set. Even better, it had stopped raining, so my walk from the L, down the stairs, and home was easy.

Turning onto my tree-lined street, seeing all the houses with the lights on inside, families having dinner in their cozy homes made me smile. I was looking forward to spending time with the people I worked with, and on top of that, the air smelled crisp and smoky like fall. It was going to be a good night.

But when I reached my little wrought-iron front gate, I opened it, and immediately the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was there.

Turning fast, I banged the gate shut, and above the spears, over the top of the fence, I found myself looking at Wynton Coe, our auction coordinator.

“Oh shit,” I rushed out. “I mean, sorry, sir, but you scared me.”

“I can see I did,” he replied softly, taking a step closer and smiling at me. “I apologize, that wasn’t at all my intention.”

Leaning a bit sideways, I looked around him, because I thought I heard something near the street by the bur oak. And there probably was something there, but honestly, it could have been anything. There was a myriad of wildlife that lived in the many enormous ancient shade trees. In the summer, the foliage created a much-appreciated canopy, as well as lovely designs on the sidewalk from dappled sunshine. Now though, in the fall, sometimes there were quickly moving shadows that made you think, if even for a moment, to beware.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I blurted, seeing his brows furrow like he was worried about me.

“I brought wine.” He held the bottle up. “I know you charged Bing with that, but… do we trust… Bing?”

I chuckled and opened the gate for him, stepping sideways so he could walk by me, then closed it behind him. “If you walk straight down this path, the lights will come on, and you’ll see the steps there on your left.”

“I love your little yard here.” He turned to smile at me over his shoulder. “I usually cut the tops of my hydrangeas in the fall. I never thought to leave them like you have.”