It was too late for that. Emily went over to a water dispenser in the corner and helped herself to a cup of water. She drank, trying to clear from her head the noxious, cloying smell of a body that had been left for who knew how many hours in a hot storage unit that lacked even basic ventilation. When she returned to Lila, she whispered, “You think the collection is stolen?”

“Shhh. Don’t know yet,” Lila whispered back. “I’m getting things organized, preparing for later when we contact these libraries.” Lowering her voice still further, Lila added, “Once Ruth understands what she’s got, that’s what I expect she’ll want to do.”

Ruth. Already her mother was on a first-name basis with Mrs. Murphy. Emily was glad she’d asked her mother to help out.

Headlights lit up the water-streaked windows as a white emergency van drove past, heading in the direction of Mr. Murphy’s storage unit. Emily had no idea how long it took for a body to stiffen up, but the person rolled up in the rug could have been dead for quite some time. Had the body been there on Sunday? Was it possible that she simply hadn’t noticed it? The thought made her skin crawl.

She took out her phone and thumbed through the photos she’d taken inside the storage unit on Sunday. Found one of the workbench. She enlarged it and lightened the exposure, confirming, to her relief, that underneath there’d been no puddle of water, no rolled-up rug, no baseball cap.

“What’s happening? What are they doing out there?” Mrs. Murphy said. “How long are they going to keep us here?”

The police officer who’d arrived first—Emily hadn’t recognized him from her visit yesterday to the police station—had said that he couldn’t give them a time frame, but that someone would be back to talk to each of them. Emily wondered if she should call Frank. He’d be apoplectic if she didn’t. Her thumb was hovering over his name when a man entered the office. He was not wearing a uniform, but a laminated ID badge with the insignia of the Hartwell police hung from his neck. He was square-jawed and stern, and his mere presence made Emily feel as if she should stand. She shut off her phone and pocketed it. Lila stuffed the cards she’d been sorting back into the hatbox and closed the lid.

Mrs. Murphy marched right up to the man. Her puff of hair came up to his chin. “Please, can’t you explain to us who that person is, and what he is doing in my husband’s storage unit?” Emily had to admire her spirit, though it was pretty clear that the poor person rolled in the carpet was no longer doing anything.