‘Yes, of course we do. Do you have a specific one in mind? We stock a few different ones.’

‘Yes, the single cask release, if you have it.’

Her left eyebrow twitched up slightly. ‘We do indeed. On the rocks?’

‘No.’ Hunter shook his head. ‘With just a little spring water, please.’

This time the hostess gave Hunter a whole-heartedly approving nod. ‘An American who not only knows how to choose his Scotch, but how to drink it too. You don’t see many of those around.’

Hunter frowned. ‘Really? In a big whisky lounge like this one?’

She chuckled. ‘You’d be surprised. To start with, you lot spell whiskey with an “e”. It can only go downhill from there.’ Her head tilted in the direction of the ‘city boys’ table. ‘Do you know what I mean?’

Hunter smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

‘I’ll be right back with your drink.’

While the hostess disappeared in the direction of the main bar, Hunter flipped through the food menu.

‘Here you go,’ she said, placing a whisky tumbler on Hunter’s table just a minute later, together with a miniature jar of water. ‘Kilchoman 2010, single quarter cask.’

‘Thank you,’ Hunter said, closing the menu.

‘Have you made a decision already?’

Hunter nodded.

‘Well, in that case, since I’m already here, I might as well take your order.’

Hunter ordered a cheeseburger and fries.

‘I’ll get that for you straight away,’ the hostess said, paused, then extended her hand. ‘My name is Linsey, by the way.’

‘Robert,’ Hunter replied, returning the gesture. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’

‘And you.’ Those words were followed by a very subtle but charming wink.

As the hostess zigzagged back through the tables, being careful to avoid the “city boys” one, Hunter reached for his glass and brought it to his nose. The smoky and complex aroma of the golden liquid made him smile again. He picked up the water jar and poured just a little more than a few drops into the tumbler, before finally sipping his whisky. Smooth sweet vanilla, with sooty smoke coming to the fore and a long honeyed ember finish – perfection in a glass. Hunter closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, maybe for longer than he should have, because he didn’t notice the person now standing right in front of his table.

‘You owe me an explanation.’

Thirty-Eight

As the object slid out of the envelope and on to the tabletop, Detective Webb pulled his chair a little closer to have a better look at it. His eyes ping-ponged between the object and Dr. Barnes for several seconds and he wondered if that was all he was going to get. Nothing else came out of the envelope.

‘It’s . . . a silver bracelet,’ he said at last, unimpressed, staring at a serpentine chain bracelet, with a delicate heart charm.

‘It’s a white-gold bracelet,’ Dr. Barnes corrected him. ‘Not a silver one.’

‘OK. I apologize,’ Webb said back, not really knowing what difference it made.

Dr. Barnes saw the look in Webb’s face and explained. ‘This bracelet was given to me by my mother on my thirteenth birthday. We were a very poor family, living in a rough and neglected neighborhood. My father left us when I was five, and we never saw him again after that. My mother had to work two jobs to keep us going, and she saved every penny she could for God knows how long, just so she’d be able to afford something like this.’ All of a sudden, the doctor’s voice saddened. ‘She passed away just months after that.’

Only then Webb noticed the tiny inscription on the heart charm. Three words – one above the other – Always. Be. Strong.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Webb offered in a sincere tone.

The doctor acknowledged his words with a head gesture before continuing. ‘Since my thirteenth birthday, I’ve worn it every day without fail. I never forget to. I’ve never lost it. It’s always with me. The only time I take it off, is when I go to sleep.’

Webb looked intrigued.

‘I can’t sleep with any sort of jewelry on me,’ she clarified. ‘No bracelets, no necklaces, no rings, nothing. For some reason it freaks the hell out of me if I do. It gives me nightmares.’

Webb found that interesting because he had a friend who also couldn’t sleep with any jewelry on her. She had to take it all off before going to bed, including her wedding ring.

‘Last night,’ Dr. Barnes carried on with her story, ‘I got home, took off my bracelet, my rings, and my necklace, and left them on my bedside table, just like I do every night. When I woke up this morning, everything was still there, except the bracelet. The bracelet was gone.’

Webb was about to say something, but Dr. Barnes got there before him.

‘Yes,’ she said.

He frowned at her.

‘Yes. Yes. No. And yes.’

‘I’m sorry?

‘I know what you’re going to ask me, Detective. You’re first going to ask me if I’m absolutely sure that I had the bracelet with me when I got home. The answer to that question is – yes. Then you’re going to ask me if I’m absolutely sure that I took it off in my bedroom and left it on my bedside table, like I said I did. The answer to that question is also – yes. Then you’re going to ask me if there isn’t a chance that maybe the bracelet had come undone somewhere and fallen off my wrist, like maybe in the parking lot where I work, or just outside my house, or even by the newsstand, where I pick up my paper every morning.’

Webb’s impressed face was certainly more pleasant than his unimpressed one, but not by much. And he was impressed. So far, Dr. Barnes had hit every nail on the head.

He nodded at her as he added, ‘That was exactly what I was thinking, Doctor.’ He admitted it. ‘If the bracelet dropped from your wrist at the newsstand, someone could’ve seen it and, instead of doing the right thing, which would be handing it back to you, decided to turn the whole thing into a practical joke.’ He tapped the note twice with his gloved index finger. ‘That would certainly explain this.’

‘It would,’ the doctor agreed. ‘But the answer to that question is “no”. There’s no chance that my bracelet fell from my wrist at the newsstand the morning before last, or anywhere else for that matter.’

Once again, Webb was about to ask Dr. Barnes a new question, when she lifted her hand, interrupting him.

‘How can I be so sure?’ she said.

Back came the impressed look. Webb decided that it was pointless trying to butt in, so he sat back on his chair and allowed her to continue in her own pace.

‘Because there’s no way I can go a whole day without this bracelet and not notice it, Detective. Every time I get nervous, or every time I’m thinking, pondering something, I twiddle with it.’ Her right hand automatically moved to her left wrist. ‘It’s an unconscious movement. I’ve been doing it for years, and on any given day I repeat the movement tens of times. I wouldn’t have gone half an hour without noticing that my bracelet was gone.’

Webb had noticed the movement at least a couple of times in the past few minutes and it hadn’t surprised him. Everybody he knew had a nervous tic. His was running his tongue against his top lip.

‘And last night,’ Dr. Barnes carried on, ‘as I was driving home, I specifically remember twiddling with it in the car, which brings us to my last “yes”. Yes, Detective Webb, I’m certain that the bracelet didn’t fall off my wrist inside my car. I had it on me when I got home last night. I had it on me when I went to bed, and I had it on my bedside table when I turned off the lights. I am one hundred percent sure of it. This morning, when I woke up, it wasn’t there.’

After over twenty years as a policeman, Webb had acquired a knack for summing people up at a glance, even better after spending a few minutes with them. Dr. Gwen Barnes appeared to be a very stable, intelligent, and grounded woman. She never raised her voice, regardless of mood. She was eloquent and, so far, all her arguments seemed to be based on very plausible and possible facts.