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Archie said briskly, “I appreciate that. I appreciate you—”

“And you think you’re not cut out for management!”

Archie gave an unwilling laugh. “Yeah, but I do appreciate you, David.”

“I appreciate you, too, Crane. You were the best partner I ever had. So, take this for what it’s worth. Nothing stays the same. Like the philosophers say: move it or lose it.”

Chapter Twenty

“I know Monday’s meeting turned a little chaotic,” Ms. Madison said. “So, I wanted to make sure you have a chance to ask any questions you might have, particularly regarding McCabe House.”

After going through the contents of John’s safe, Archie had phoned for an Uber and gone to a jeweler to buy a new silver chain for his St. Christopher medal. Then he’d gone shopping for clothes—primarily something to wear to John’s funeral. Clothes shopping was one of his least favorite things, but he could not continue making do with a handful of T-shirts and two pairs of jeans.

Proof that he was still a ways from being fully recovered, by the time he walked into Madison Law, he was starting to feel like a nap would be next up on the agenda. He needed to be alert and on guard during the séance at Leo Baker’s.

Archie said, “Let’s start with the house. Are there any conditions under which I can sell?”

“No,” Ms. Madison said firmly. “You may do anything you like with the house except sell it. You could even theoretically rent it out, though I know John hoped that would not be the case. However, after two years, you may sell the house.”

Archie nodded thoughtfully.

“After two years, you can do anything you want. You could even gift it to Mrs. Winslow, if you so choose.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Archie said. He’d changed his mind about that first instinctive offer. Recent events and reflection had hardened his feelings toward Judith.

“It’s such a beautiful house,” Ms. Madison sighed. “You don’t have any attachment to it?”

The question was unexpected. “Sure. It’s a great old house. But I live in D.C.”

“You don’t think that you might eventually want to move back to Twinkleton? Retire here perhaps?”

“Move back?”

Ms. Madison’s smile was rueful. “Clearly not.”

Archie opened his mouth to reiterate all the reasons he didn’t like Twinkleton. But strangely, they no longer seemed as powerful as they once had. Yes, Twinkleton was a small town with all the drawbacks that entailed. But some of those drawbacks—how quiet it was, how insular, how removed from the center of, well, everything, suddenly seemed to have a flip side. There was nothing like living for months on end in intense, high-stress situations to give you an appreciation for physical and emotional space, for calm and predictability. Even the very new idea of a lighter, less life-threatening workload had an unexpected allure.

Into his hesitation, Ms. Madison said, “In any case, you have a full twenty-four months to decide what you’d like to do.”

“True.”

She tilted her head, studied his face. “Have you read the letter John left?”

“I haven’t found it yet. It wasn’t in his safe. It wasn’t in his desk. Mrs. Simms doesn’t know anything about it.”

Ms. Madison frowned. “The letter exists. John didn’t say he was going to write it. He said he’d written it.”

“I’ll keep looking, obviously.”

She tapped her pen, sighed. “Well, it’s immaterial.” She corrected herself. “I mean, not immaterial. But it doesn’t change anything as far as the disposition of John’s estate. And it doesn’t haven’t anything to do with what I wanted to go over today.”

Archie’s cell phone rang. He reached for it, frowned at an unrecognized number, pressed to accept.

“Agent Crane.”

Mrs. Simms said, “I’m so sorry, Archie. I didn’t want to bother you when you’re meeting with Dr. Perry’s lawyer, but Mrs. Winslow just left. She said she wanted to choose clothes for Dr. Perry’s funeral.”

Archie felt a pang. This was something that had not even occurred to him. He said gruffly, “Of course. That’s all right. Whatever she needs.”