Mrs. Murphy’s gaze shifted and her eyes widened. “In Portland?”

Emily nodded.

“Murph and I were there. Several times, if I remember correctly. He loved to visit libraries.”

Emily hated what she had to say next, but plunged ahead. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the book that this map comes from is still listed in their collection.”

Mrs. Murphy blinked. Her brow furled as she tilted her head and stared at the map. It took a few moments for the implication to dawn on her. “Surely he bought it from the library. Or from a reputable dealer. I can’t believe . . . My husband would never . . .”

“This could be the only one like this,” Emily said. “But I did also find a box full of bookplates and due-date cards that have been removed from library books.”

Mrs. Murphy straightened. “Are you suggesting that my husband stole from libraries?”

“I’m saying that provenance is an issue,” Emily said. “Who knows, maybe the books were discards. Maybe the map belongs to someone else and your husband was just storing it. Figuring it all out will take time. Which brings us to another issue.” Emily paused. “When I tried to get back into the storage unit this morning, someone had come in overnight and changed the lock.”

“Changed the lock?” Mrs. Murphy looked confused. She looked back and forth from Becca to Emily.

Becca said evenly, “Do you have any idea who might have done that?”

“How in blue blazes would I know?” Mrs. Murphy sucked in her cheeks and shook her head. “I’ve never even been there. And now you tell me it’s full of library books and stolen maps, and someone broke in.”

“We’re not sure any of it’s stolen, or that anyone broke in,” Becca said, looking to Emily to continue.

Emily said, “The thing is, a security guard who was there told me that he’s seen someone opening up the unit from time to time.”

“That would have been Murph, of course,” Mrs. Murphy said.

“Recently. In the last few months. And he said it was a woman.”

Mrs. Murphy swallowed hard. “A woman?” She started to say something else and stopped. Settled herself. “Exactly what are you suggesting? That my Charlie was a common thief? And on top of that, he was up to some kind of mischief with some . . . bimbo?”

“No one’s suggesting—” Emily began.

“You most certainly are.” After a frosty silence, Mrs. Murphy added, “He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“This must be confusing and upsetting.” Becca gave Mrs. Murphy her most sympathetic smile. “You say you knew nothing about the storage unit until you saw the bill. So it’s possible, isn’t it, that those books and prints in there aren’t your husband’s? Maybe he was storing someone else’s things. A brother or sister—”

“Murph was an only child,” Mrs. Murphy said.