“It’s cherrywood,” I began. “Very hard. Pear-shaped, with lines carved in waves. It’s used to pierce holes in the folds of the pages of a book before they’re sewn to linen tapes. It fits nicely in my hand. I’ve had it for years.” My throat was closing up, so I stopped talking.

MacLeod grunted. He didn’t have to say anything. I knew it was mine, knew someone had used my tool as a murder weapon in order to implicate me again.

I forced my hands to relax by splaying them on my knees. I imagined the awl in my left hand. I’d used it hundreds of times. It was an old favorite tool, an old friend. One of the woodworkers at the Fellowship had handcrafted it for me a long time ago. Over the years, I would occasionally hone the shaft to a perfect point, but that probably wouldn’t help my case if I mentioned it now.

I had all different shapes and sizes of awls for use with paper and leather and boards, but this knotting awl was my favorite. It was actually designed to thread the knots in string between beads, thus the name, knotting awl. The shaft was narrower and more tapered than a typical bookbinder’s awl, and that was why I liked it.

Evidently, the killer had liked it, too.

I was frustrated and angry. What was MacLeod going to do now that a second murder had been committed? There probably weren’t that many murders in Scotland in a whole year, so I figured his superiors would be clamoring for an arrest. And I was looking better and better for it. And why not? Not only had my awl been used to kill Perry, but the police could make a case for motivation, as well. After all, with Perry dead, there was no one else to challenge my version of the Robert Burns book mythology.

Except for the killer.

Whoever that was.

I almost moaned in aggravation. Why couldn’t Perry have been Kyle’s killer? It would’ve been so much more convenient all around. I rubbed my face in frustration. I was all about convenience, damn it.

I’d racked my brain to figure out who would benefit from Kyle’s death, and my only conclusion-before this moment-had been Perry. Perry had wanted Kyle to shut up about the Robert Burns legend. He’d attacked me almost before I’d made it through the door of the hotel. He was the perfect suspect. Damn it, I wanted to cry.

Now I had to start over, studying my suspect list for someone with enough motivation to kill twice and set me up to take the fall. And I had to find someone quickly, because there was no way I wanted to go to prison for someone else’s crime.

I had a sudden thought: Maybe Perry had killed Kyle. Then somebody else killed Perry. And now someone else would kill that someone else and pretty soon everyone in Edinburgh would be dead.

Oh, yeah. That was plausible.

There was a hair-raising shriek out in the hall. Then the door banged against the wall and someone pushed through the guards.

“She killed him!” Minka screamed, pointing at me in an alarming case of déjà vu. “She killed Perry! She’s a murderer, and it’s not the first time!”

“Oh, jeez,” I said, shaking my head in disgust. If I ever did decide to kill somebody, guess who my target would be?

Angus rushed over and took hold of her arm. “Ma’am, you’re not-”

“Let go of me, you big oaf!” She managed to shake him loose, which was a testament to her frenzy, because Angus was a really big guy.

“Bloody hell,” Derek said, and instinctively shoved me behind him for protection, then tried to cage me as I attempted to move around him and confront Minka. I’m not sure why I wanted to. She scared me to death. But Derek’s caveman routine was too much. Maybe he thought I was going to kick the crap out of her. And what was wrong with that? She’d thrown a screaming fit once before, then smacked me in the face. I would’ve liked to have returned the favor, just once.

“She’s like the angel of death,” Minka cried. “Wherever she goes, someone dies!”

“Not fair,” I countered. True, but not fair.

“Stay back,” Derek commanded.

“No.” I twisted around and managed to escape Derek’s protective shield, then went for payback. “Angus, she was working for Perry. She had plenty of opportunity to kill him.”

“Liar! I’ll kill you!”

“I don’t think so.” But I knew the woman packed a wallop, so I threw my hands up to protect my face. Sure enough, Minka charged. As I prepared to take her down, Derek pulled me back.

“Hey!” I cried.

Angus caught Minka in a headlock at the same time. She squeaked like a bat and her arms flailed around as Angus held up his free hand and snapped his fingers. Two constables dashed over to grab Minka and lead her out.

“No! Not me,” Minka griped. “She’s the one.”

“She’s crazy,” I said. As far as accusations went, it was weak, but I was wiped out. However, seeing Minka dragged out by the police went a long way toward making my day brighter.

Derek gave me a warning glance as he took my arm and drew me closer.

Minka saw the move. She whipped around and faced Angus, her lip curled in a sneer. “Oh, my God, you’re going to let her go, aren’t you?” She wiggled to escape the cops’ grasp, but they held firm. “Dumb-shit cops are always swayed by blondes.”

Really? Then why was I always the prime suspect? “That’s enough,” Angus snapped.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minka said, “but don’t you dare release her! You’ll be sorry. I’ll report you!”

“Get her out of here.”

The door banged shut behind her and there was a sudden silence.

“Well, she’s an angry one,” Angus finally said, brushing his hands off.

“Thank you for intervening,” I said. “And I hope everyone noticed she threatened to kill me. Shouldn’t you make a note somewhere?”

Derek chuckled.

Angus sighed. “She was just overwrought.”

“She’s a raving loon,” I said pointedly. “And dangerous. It’s not the first time she’s attacked me.”

“Yes, I saw you both tangling the other day.”

“No, before that,” I said. “Back in San Francisco. Never mind. Anyway, thanks.”

“My job,” he said, holding out his hands. “Besides, she’s got no business in here. This is a crime scene.”

“She really will try to report you.” Minka wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box.

“She’s welcome to try.” Angus shook his head. “She seems more and more unbalanced every time I see her. We’ll hold her for questioning.”

“Good,” Derek said.

Minka had blamed me for another death after Abraham was killed last month. She’d attacked me and accused the police of playing favorites. I was getting a little tired of it.

A little? I slumped into my chair as the adrenaline rush wore off. I felt like an idiot for behaving so wildly, but nobody in the world ticked me off like Minka did. Would I ever be free of her maddening presence in my life? I truly wished her dead.

Okay, erase that. My mother would call that tempting karma. I wasn’t cynical enough to disagree, so I shook my head and quickly erased that thought. If only it were that easy, as if my brain were an Etch A Sketch and the screen were now blank.

So maybe I didn’t want her dead, but I did want her to go away and leave me alone.

I considered that new change in thinking a sign of personal growth.

The crime scene investigators took over the room, and Angus moved our little group to the far corner. He grilled me again, implored me to search my mind for any other people Kyle might’ve spoken to about the Robert Burns book.

“And more important,” he added, “who’s most likely to have stolen your bookbinding tools for the purposes of implicating you?”

“Exactly,” I said emphatically. “That’s the key to this puzzle.”

I pulled out the book fair program and went down the list of exhibitors, pointing out the names of experts who might’ve given Kyle some feedback.

“I would’ve thought his cousin Royce would have an opinion of the book,” I said, “but he seems completely uninvolved in that side of the business.”