“I was. Last night. But I couldn’t get in again this morning. Someone’s changed the lock.”

“Someone? But who? How? Mrs. Murphy said there was just the one key.”

“She didn’t even know the storage unit existed until that bill arrived. Someone else could have a key. One of the security guards told me yesterday that he’d seen a woman going in and out of that unit.”

“Mrs. Murphy?”

“Not likely. He thought it might have been me.”

Silence from Becca. Then a groan. “Mrs. Murphy’s going to have a fit. But the sooner she knows, the better. Can you meet me over there?”

“You’re done with family?”

“They’ll survive an hour without me.” In the background, Emily could hear a dog howl. “My sister-in-law and my aunt are still here. Between them, they can watch the beasts. I’ll call Mrs. Murphy and tell her something has come up and we need to see her right away.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She was so glad she wasn’t in this alone. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being calm and competent. For not coming unglued when things don’t go according to plan.”

“Nothing ever does. When we get back in there, we’re going to need someone who knows their way around books to give us advice about what we’re dealing with. Normally I’d call in a book dealer. But it sounds like we need an informal, confidential take on what we’ve gotten ourselves into first. From someone we know. Personally.”

Of course, Becca was suggesting Emily’s mother. For years, Lila Laubenstein had managed special collections for the library at Auburn Design School. She’d know how to handle the William Alexander map. How to tell if it was an original or a reproduction. She could also tell at a glance if repairs to Mr. Murphy’s many damaged books were even feasible, and whether they were library copies.

As soon as Emily finished talking to Becca, she called her mother. Lila Laubenstein answered on the second ring with a bright, “Hello, dear. Is everything all right?” Lila was acutely attuned to changes in routine, and a Monday morning call from Emily was unusual.

“We need your expertise,” Emily said.

“We?”

“Becca and I. For a client.”

“Of course you do.” Emily heard her father’s rumbling bass in the background. “It’s Emmy,” her mother said. Then, to Emily, “Your father says hello.” More rumbling. “All right, all right. I’ll take the phone outside.” Back to Emily. “Your father’s doing his crossword, and you know how he gets.”