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It was around seven o’clock. The pub was full, but even so I could see Casper’s head and shoulders above the rest. He wasn’t drinking. Not that the Powers-That-Be had forbidden him to drink, but as far as Casper was concerned, it could lead to diminished responsibility, which could in turn lead to his doing something that was forbidden. Usually he didn’t take any chances.

He caught sight of me and waved.

Squeezing through the crowd of drinkers, I made my way toward him.

“I got us a table,” he said. “Do you want a drink?”

“Chamomile tea, please.” In the past I’d found it the best thing to drink after a shock.

“I don’t think they serve that here,” he said.

“There’s some in the kitchen. I’ll make it. You hold the table.”

I returned with tea for two. We sipped it as sedately as two maiden aunts. Neither of us spoke. I began to feel calmer. When Bess brought us two plates of roast chicken and vegetables, I stopped sipping and began to eat—potatoes first. The comfort food felt good in my stomach.

Casper dug into his food too. I don’t know what he eats on Cloud 9, but when he’s with me he eats what everyone else does.

He licked gravy off his lips. “This is good food.”

I nodded, savoring the taste of freshly cooked meat that had never seen the inside of a freezer. We city-dwellers miss a lot with our plastic-packaged food.

Putting aside my thoughts on country versus city life, I asked Casper, “What did you think of Jenny Clark?”

“She seemed a bit obsessed by Leith,” he replied, “but I think she’s harmless.”

“Harmless? She was much too eager to take us to the cairn. I’ve got a hunch she wanted Leith to take your heart.”

Casper regarded me pensively. “I think she was genuinely surprised when he tried to take your heart. And she did tell me to keep away from the cairn.”

I paused to eat the last mouthful of baked pumpkin. Then, putting down my fork, I said, “I don’t think Jenny, or even Leith, had anything to do with McEwen’s death. They’re red herrings.” I glanced at Casper to see if he agreed with me.

His expression betrayed nothing.

“What do you think?” I prompted. When he closed his lips, I muttered, “Okay you can’t answer. I get it. So here’s something you can answer—how many morsubs have you had?”

Casper had been doing this for two thousand years. He must have had a few in that time.

“I’ve lost count.”

“Who was the last person?” I persisted. “You must remember them.”

“It was someone who died too young. I didn’t guard her very well.”

“Her?”

Yeah, that was my first reaction. Not, uh-oh, you failed to protect your morsub. Sometimes I’m such a girl. But that was okay, especially after Leith mistaking me for a man.

Casper pushed a pea around his plate. “All my morsubs have been women. It’s part of my penance for all the bad things I did when I was alive. I’m constantly placed in the path of temptation but I mustn’t give in to it by becoming too close to my morsubs.”

That was a conversation killer if ever I’d heard one. A heavy silence stretched between us. Trying not to think about all the other women he had guarded, I poured us more tea from the pot.

Luckily, Douglas chose that moment to stop by our table. Balancing a tray of empty glasses, he asked, “Did you find out anything in Beag Glen?”

“Nothing that will help my investigation,” I answered. Somebody called out an order and Douglas hurried away.

As I sipped my tea, I eavesdropped on the conversation at a table behind me. I couldn’t see the speaker but my ears pricked up when someone mentioned the banshee.

“Thank the good Lord we’ve heard no wailing tonight.” It was the gruff, tobacco-aged voice of Malcolm Melville.

A younger voice that I couldn’t identify said, “We should drink a pint to McEwen’s memory.”

There was a chorus of agreement.

Melville asked, “Has McEwen’s body been found?”

When no one answered, the younger voice said, “Maybe he wasn’t really dead. Maybe he got up and walked away.”

“Then where is he now?” asked Melville.

Dead silence.

The young voice said, “Will there be a funeral? Or a memorial service? We should organize something.