Page 26 of The Dead Come to Stay

pepperoni, and both slices were now ready to hand. Jo took one very cheesy, wonderful, awful bite before continuing. To be

honest, she preferred it to opera cake.

“You ever read Wuthering Heights ?” she asked.

“Heathcliffe and Catherine. Actually, I saw one of the movies.”

“Well, the book is like a—a mirror. No, better; like those nested Russian dolls. Things keep duplicating, but the repeat is

a smaller, less impressive version than the first. Anyway, there are two Catherines a generation apart. One of them comes

to a bad end.” She waited to see that he was following. Between pizza bites and beer swigs, he seemed to be. “Evelyn is Catherine

the first. She gets pregnant; now we know it was an illicit affair with her brother-in-law. We don’t know what happened to her, or her baby, but being buried under a house is a pretty sticky end.”

“I think we can agree on that,” MacAdams said.

“Right? So my mum is Catherine the second. At least, to Aiden. Pregnant out of wedlock, forced out of the family home. Lost, in her own way. He told Chen that he would ‘take Evelyn home.’ Like finding his sister, again, I think.”

“But he doesn’t end up doing that,” MacAdams pointed out.

Jo sighed. “No. He died. Chen wasn’t even sure what happened to the painting till I told her. There was a lot of damage to the painting. Chen worked on it for six whole months.”

MacAdams had a new slice halfway to his mouth and stopped cold.

“Six months,” he said. “I’m beginning to hate this unit of time.”

“Because of the Foley murder?” Jo asked. It was a shot in the dark, but a good one, as MacAdams was technically here to investigate.

“Six months ago, his life altered. We have been told that he may have been on thin ice at his job, but that seems consequence

rather than cause. What would you think if a man sold his house, dyed his hair, began—or continued—seeing a young lady and

made a sow’s ear of his job?”

“That he was having a midlife crisis,” Jo said. Because, without meaning to, he’d just described Tony. “My ex was turning

fifty-five. Got a gym membership, started vitamin supplements, managed to sell out the publishing house from under me. And,

of course, step out with a twenty-eight-year-old publishing employee on the fast track.”

“I see the similarities,” MacAdams said, but Jo frowned.

“The thing is, I met him, right? And this doesn’t sound like him at all. I mean, it’s not...” She was trying hard to avoid

saying vibe or aura . Her sense of people was actually a lot more like instinct or some subconscious recognition of pheromones. “He didn’t feel like a Tony.”

In fact, she could almost see him now: disheveled, surprised. On recovery, more like a guy in a hurry. He certainly wasn’t smarmy or creepy, didn’t act like the big man or try to push her around. And he liked Jammie Dodgers, which somehow seemed the antithesis of Tony-ness.

“I try not to discredit your feelings,” MacAdams said. “Anymore.” He’d dispensed with the tie earlier, and with his jacket

off, looked almost like not a policeman. Jo noticed he also had marinara on his chin.

“Actually, you’ve been really kind about my feelings today,” she said, feeling an embarrassed blush starting at her neckline.

This was an improvement. She’d been too exhausted to feel embarrassed earlier. “I really appreciate it.”

“You... are welcome.” He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. After a moment, he brought out his phone. “You understand

that I am not asking you to get involved. But what do you make of this?”

He’d shown her a police-style photograph, white background with a ruler for scale. A golden earring featured in the center,

ornate and curiously wrought.

“It’s not like anything I’ve seen,” she admitted.

“That might be because it’s a thousand years old. Or at least pretending to be.”

“It’s from the case?” Jo asked, realizing that this was a moment of surprising trust.

MacAdams nodded and took the phone back. “We found it near the body. I don’t suppose Gwilym would know anything about it?”

“Can you send it to me?” Jo asked, because even if Gwilym didn’t the two of them could certainly find out.

MacAdams compressed his upper lip to a fine seam. “I—could,” he said. “You aren’t to share it.”

“Except with Gwilym.”

“A natural exception,” MacAdams said, sending the image through.

He looked up as her own phone registered the message, and seemed about to say something else—but his phone began triple buzzing on the table.

He glanced at the number, then snapped it up in a hurry.

“Now?... On site?... No—no tell them to circle back. I don’t want to spook whoever it is.

” MacAdams motioned to Giuseppe for the bill.

“I’ll be there.” Hanging up, he turned back to Jo. “I have to go.”

“ We. We have to go. What’s going on?”

“I just need to check on a property,” he said, half out of his chair already. “Someone’s there.”

“ The property?”

“Yes, stay here—or, I’ll call you a cab.” He handed over his credit card and signed.

“I’m coming with,” Jo said, getting to her feet and heading for the door. MacAdams was still admonishing her from the table...

where he was now also checking pockets for his keys.

“In fact,” she said, jingling the prize in one hand, “I’ll even drive.”