I hadn’t seen him in a day or so and wondered if he had indeed stayed in Edinburgh. Had he had more words with Serena? Had he accused her to her face of lying?

And speaking of Serena, was she a lying tart or not? Something about her really bothered me. It probably wasn’t her, specifically, but the simple fact that Kyle had had a wife all this time and I never knew. Either way, I didn’t get a feeling of connection between her and Kyle. That bothered me, too.

I munched on chocolate buttons as I arranged each student’s workspace with decorative papers and book boards. As I laid out tools and supplies on the third table, I had a sudden sick thought: If Kyle had been “promised” to Serena when he was dating me, had she known about me? Had she arrived in town and followed him to the castle? Had she seen him greet me with kisses and hugs, then watched as we popped into the nearest pub?

I stopped in my tracks. Was it hatred and jealousy of me that had driven her to follow me back to my hotel room, sneak in while I was sleeping off jet lag, and steal my tools? Jealousy was a powerful motive. If she was angry enough, she could’ve killed Kyle using my bookbinder’s hammer and pinned the murder on me.

Could Serena be the one who’d called Kyle while we were at the pub together?

I shook myself out of those thoughts. But it creeped me out to think about how friendly Serena and Minka had become. How did they know each other? Maybe Minka had helped her do the deed. Minka would be up for anything that might ruin my life.

I decided I would track down Serena after my workshop and try to schmooze her. I needed to do the same with Royce. Maybe I could get one of them to reveal something. Anything. Just for my own peace of mind. I wasn’t conducting an investigation. Just trying to find answers to a few burning questions.

I looked around the room. The four long worktables were now arranged with five workspaces each.

At the front of the room was a larger worktable with a conference-style tablecloth over it. It was set up on a platform to act as a dais of sorts.

I stepped up on the platform and started to lay out all my own tools and supplies I would need to instruct the students, but almost tripped over something sticking out from underneath the table.

It felt like a heavy pipe. Maybe someone had thought it would be okay to store it here, but I knew I’d break my neck if it stayed there. I tried to kick it back under the table, but it wouldn’t budge. I could see myself tripping and tumbling off the platform in front of the class, so I knelt down to push it out of the way.

But it wasn’t a pipe.

It was a foot, connected to a leg, connected to a dead body.

I scrambled to my feet, jumped off the platform and ran out of the room, screaming bloody murder.

I would’ve slammed right into Derek in the hall, but he managed to escape being steamrollered by simply grabbing hold of me and crushing me to his chest.

I was still screaming.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s dead!” I cried.

“Who?” He shook me a little, and ordinarily I would’ve smacked him for that, but this time it stopped me from screaming and forced me to breathe.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered. “Why does this keep happening to me?”

“Show me,” he said. He took my hand and led me back into the conference room where I pointed a shaky finger toward the front of the room.

“Under the table.”

“Stay here.”

“No problem.”

He walked over to see what the fuss was all about while I stood in the back sniveling like a scaredy-cat.

Derek stared at the foot, then knelt down and stared at the body for a good minute. Then he stood, pulled his cell phone out and made a quick call as he walked back to me.

“Who is it?” I asked. “Whose body is it?”

“You didn’t see?” he asked.

I shook my head vigorously as he pulled me by the hand out of the room and shut the conference room door.

Out in the hall, he held my shoulders as he said, “It’s Perry McDougall.”

I gaped at him. “No way.” I moved away to pace up and down the empty hall, muttering and swearing to myself.

“You do have a proclivity for finding dead bodies,” Derek said. “It’s almost as though somebody knew you’d be here.”

“Damn it,” I said for the tenth time. Was I being set up again?

“My sentiments exactly,” Derek said. “Guess we know where Perry McDougall disappeared to.”

“Yes.” I should’ve felt bad for Perry, but I confess I felt worse for myself. Perry had been the best suspect we had for Kyle’s murder. Now what? Or more precisely, who?

“And why me?” I asked myself for the hundredth time.

Within five minutes Angus was running down the hall toward us like a wild-eyed Highlander, followed by a small phalanx of constables.

Seconds later, inside the conference room, Angus stared down at the body. He pursed his lips, then glanced across at me and Derek and said, “Curiouser and curiouser.”

Without his warm Scottish accent, he never would’ve gotten away with using that silly Alice in Wonderland phrase. He looked around for his second in command and in a much more grim manner said, “Terrence, clear the outer hall area. We’ve got ourselves another crime scene.”

As Terrence took off, Angus muttered, “We’re going to bloody run out of tape.”

The crime scene people made quick work of closing off the doorway to interested passersby and dusting every last surface in the room. Then several men picked up the heavy wood table and moved it to the side of the room.

Perry’s body lay uncovered on the platform, ignored by the technicians who worked the scene, taking photographs and combing the carpet for possible clues.

I stared at Perry’s exposed neck and saw for the first time the knotting awl sticking out of it.

“Oh, shit.” Fumbling for the nearest chair, I slid down and sat with my elbows resting on my thighs, breathing deeply, trying not to look at poor dead Perry. Or the bloody knotting awl.

I knew it was a knotting awl because I used one all the time to pierce holes in paper before sewing them together to make books.

By now I should’ve been used to finding dead bodies, but I wasn’t. And it wasn’t even Perry’s body that freaked me out as much as it was the blood that was pooling beneath his neck and spreading out into a tiny lake-or maybe it was a loch-around his head.

The sight of blood has always been an issue for me. I don’t mind needles. Even spiders don’t freak me out as much as blood. I’m kind of a wimp that way. And hey, that was how Derek and I met, which should’ve made it all touchingly romantic. But not even the fond memory of me fainting and waking up in Derek’s arms as he smacked me back to consciousness could help relieve the wooziness I was feeling.

“What have we here?” MacLeod said, and knelt down next to Perry to study the apparent murder weapon stuck in his neck.

I had a really bad feeling about that knotting awl.

Clearly, so did he. Looking up, he said, “Miss Wainwright, can I ask you to come here?”

I grimaced. “No, thank you.”

Derek sat down next to me. “I’ll help you.”

I looked at him beseechingly. “Please don’t make me go over there. Remember that little issue I have with blood?”

Derek looked across the room at Angus. “She faints at the first sign of blood. You won’t want to deal with that.”

“Thanks a lot,” I muttered.

“I’d like her to identify this weapon.”

I frowned at Derek. “It’s a knotting awl.”

“She says it’s a knotting awl.”

“Can she describe it for me?” Angus asked.

“I can hear you,” I snapped.

“Steady, love,” Derek murmured close to my ear.

“Sorry, Angus,” I said quickly. I was starting to shake but took some deep breaths and managed to stay upright.