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“Missing a single operating night before Lammas, or leaving the Club and the role. Yes.”

“Is that normal? For an estate?”

“No,” he says. “But it isn’t illegal, and Desmond was very specific.”

“Did he say why?”

Another pause. “He said he wanted to be sure his heir truly wanted the place. And he said, if I remember correctly, that he didn’t want anybody to know who’d benefit if she didn’t.” Pike clears his throat. “I thought at the time he meant to spare someone’s feelings.”

“Did you tell anybody it existed?”

“The four owners, as the will required. Ms. Vale, as operations manager, because she administers the schedule of operating nights.” He hesitates. “And the membership council was notified of the Oathkeeper succession. I can’t say what details they shared among themselves.”

So basically everybody.

“Thank you, Mr. Pike.”

“Ms. Iverson.” His voice gentles. “Whatever is happening there, I’d ask you to be careful. And I’d ask you not to miss a night.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I keep hearing that.”

When I hang up, William has three names on the laptop screen, in his small, square type. He wrote them while I was on the phone.

CORINNE VALE. GRADY. SABINE.

They don’t look like much.

“So,” I say. “Corinne’s name is on the computer, Grady signed reports that aren’t here, and Lenart’s ex keeps showing up.” I rub my face. “That’s just fantastic.”

“Look on the bright side,” Merek says. “It’s not a long list.”

“It’s three people I can’t fire.”

“You could fire Grady,” Merek says. “You’re an owner.”

“For what? Being grumpy about the ice machine?”

“I’ll find out where those queue entries came from,” William says. He’s already closing the laptop.

“I’m going to go talk to Grady about those inspections,” Tav says, and picks up the binders.

“I’ll speak with Sabine,” Lenart says. “And with the council.”

“Good,” I say. “Because I’d really like to know which one of these people wants me gone.”

I put Dez’s envelope in my back pocket. I look at the wall of green ledgers, a hundred and fifty years of oaths I’m supposed to understand by August.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “I’m putting my hand on that stone at midnight. And tomorrow. And every night until Lammas. Whoever wants me to go home can suck it.”

Merek grins. Tav’s ears come all the way up. William nods once, like that settles it.

Lenart just looks at me.

They go. Tav goes first, ducking under the door frame with the maintenance binders stacked under one arm. William follows with the laptop, and on his way out he puts his stone-cool hand on my shoulder for one second, and squeezes.

Merek stops at the door. “I’ll be right back. Kit keeps the sign-in sheets.”

Lenart doesn’t leave.