Susan didn’t answer. Instead, she put the cards down and slid the pile across the desktop. “You have thirty seconds.”

“Thank you.” McAdams shuffled through them as fast as he could. One name gave him pause—he showed it to Rina—and then he continued on until he’d seen them all. He slid the cards back to the librarian and regarded the book box. It was custom made: around a foot by two feet. “Could you open the Petroshkovich box, please?”

“Me?”

“Yes, I’d really appreciate it.”

“What’s going on?”

“Please. It’s important.”

“All right.” Slowly, she lifted the wooden lid. The actual book was in a cloth sleeve.

“Could you take it out for me?”

“Not unless you tell me what this is all about.”

“It’s about two people who were murdered and about someone who feels it’s okay to shoot the police. Please just do it.”

Susan flinched. “Yes, of course.” She took the book out of the sleeve. The cover was old and water stained. “What next?”

“Can you flip through the plates?”

“Detective, one doesn’t flip through plates. You turn the pages slowly.”

McAdams held his tongue. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’m sorry if I’m sounding brusque. If you’d just tell me . . .” When he didn’t answer, Susan began turning pages. When she got to the fourth plate, she paused for a moment. “This is a forgery.”

“You’re sure?” Rina asked.

“Of course, I’m sure! If you compare it side by side . . . the paper is original, but the quality is lacking.” She looked at the duo. “Of course, you suspected this.”

“We did,” Rina said.

“It must have happened at Pretoria.” She turned to the next plate, which was original. But the following two were not. “Oh my heavens! I must report this. I’m terribly sorry but I can’t have you checking this out right now.”

“We understand. And in light of what happened, we have other things we need to do right now.” McAdams tried out a smile. “Do we have to sign out?”

Susan was still in shock. “Uh . . . yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m floored. How did this happen? How did you know?”

Neither answered. They both signed out and slowly, Rina helped McAdams back into the chair while Susan watched. She said, “You must think I’m terrible . . . upset by a book when you’ve suffered so much. I am very sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” McAdams said. “There are two dead bodies out there. I’m the lucky one. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rina pushed him to Schultz. The guard said, “That didn’t take too long.”

“Something’s come up,” McAdams said. “We need to set our priorities elsewhere.”

“You handled Mrs. Devry very graciously, Detective,” Rina said.

“Wow. I never thought I’d hear gracious and me in the same sentence.”