“Excellent! What's on the menu?” Naomh's heels clicked on the stones of the hallway.

“I have no idea,” Donovan smiled as he guided her to his dining room. “I tend to let her do what she wants. I have no allergies, no foods or spices I particularly dislike, and she is an excellent chef.”

“Excellent. If she's really good, I might have to poach her for some of my upcoming events.”

Donovan grinned. “Well, you could. I have no problems cooking my own meals on occasion. Just not every day. I'm far too busy most days and well...” He gestured around. “I have the money to hire a chef.”

“Funds for the finer things in life,” Naomh remarked.

“Again, well put. You do have a way with words.” Donovan showed her into the small dining room that was next to the kitchen. It was the informal dining room he used when alone. Through the door that connected it to the rest of the house, there was a lavish dining room, used for grand functions.

Naomh took up a seat with her back to a dresser that covered nearly the entire wall. It was a huge cupboard, far too large for the silverware and porcelain Donovan kept there.

Donovan took the other seat, his back to the door that led to a small corridor and four steps that lead to the kitchen. It was his usual seat. He was not worried about who might or might not enter the room through that door. He realized that Naomh Walsh was unconsciously nervous about who might come through that door. But of course, she did not know the cupboard behind her was not just a place to store cups and cutlery.

It did not take long for the butler to come through the door with two trays, each containing a large dish covered by a silver cloche. He set down the plates in front of each of them and removed the cloches. The chef had outdone herself. Perhaps she had realized Donovan was entertaining someone more interesting than his old college buddies or some associate in his law firm.

Chapter Five

Around eight o'clock, they retired to Donovan's smoking room. Naomh Walsh made a beeline for the piano and tested the tuning. Without even asking, she sat down and began playing a rhythm and blues tune.

Donovan hovered by the piano bench and listened for a moment. “In the Mood?” he guessed. He was acutely aware he did not know much about this genre of music.

Naomh nodded and changed the tune. This one was slower. It sounded familiar as well, but Donovan could not place it.

Instead of guessing, he stopped lingering and went over to the humidor. He selected some cigars and then went over to the bar. “Drink?”

“Please.”

“What are you having?”

“If you have a good Scotch, I'll have a drop.”

Donovan was surprised to find he was taken aback by her request. For a woman like her, it was only fitting that she liked whisky as well, but he had never actually met a woman who did.

He poured two double glasses of Bruichladdich and brought them over to the piano. He sat down in a chair just beside Naomh and picked up his guitar. He began picking the chords he thought she was playing and it actually seemed to harmonize. It brought a big smile to her face to hear it. They entertained each other by jamming, and expanding on the original tune.

And then the lights went out.

There was a scream. A prolonged scream. Then there was silence. Donovan, for once, did not know what to do. What he should have done was move to the safe room, using the door behind the humidor, but he was frozen. It was unthinkable that anyone should or could get through the security of the loft in the first place, but obviously someone had. The cameras and the special gate system had failed and someone had gotten in. He pulled out his phone and looked at it. There was not even a message from the security company. They had not received a message that the perimeter had been breached.

There was a bang as the door flew open and then a crash as someone barged into something in the hallway. Someone had just entered the house.

“Naomh?”

“Yes.”

“I think we should get out of here.” Donovan used his phone as a torch and found Naomh still frozen to the piano bench. He grabbed her hand and stepped to the humidor. It was a huge structure and he reached behind it and pulled a small lever hidden in a corner at the back of the humidor. It began to swing forward in its entirety. There was a small passage behind it.

That passage had once been installed by Wild Bill, who had become paranoid about everything toward the end of his life. It served Donovan well now. He pulled Naomh with him and they went into the dusty passage. There was a ladder that led down and they made their way through the dust and the cobwebs to a passage that was not shown on the building’s approved drawings. At the end of the passage there was a large, steel-reinforced door. They went through it and Donovan pulled it shut. He flicked a switch and the generator hummed to life, causing the room to flood with light.

Naomh looked startled and shocked. “What the hell just happened?”

Donovan did not answer her, he just pulled out his phone and called the security company. “Storm Donovan. Someone just entered my property, lights went out and we heard a scream. Someone opened the door and we heard them. Got to the safe room,” he paused. “Safely. We'll need someone to get us out of here.”

It was silent for a while after Donovan hung up. Eventually, he broke the silence himself. “Well, that's a good evening spoiled.”

Naomh laughed. “Yeah, well. Maybe that was supposed to be the end of the evening.”

Donovan smiled as well. He sat down on the sofa he had hauled down there right after he had the safe room renovated two years ago. It was not the same quality furniture he had upstairs. It was the sofa from the apartment he lived in during his time studying law. He had the matching coffee table down there too. Along the wall he had set down his old drink cabinet. “Don’t have the quality stuff down here, but if you’d care to join me , we could still have the drink I promised you.”

Naomh sat down next to him on the sofa and shook her head. “I'd rather find another way to keep ourselves entertained than drinking.”

“Don’t you have a husband in the world upstairs?” Donovan laid his arm on the back of the sofa, behind her shoulders.

“I do.” She ran the fingers of her right hand, where she wore her wedding band, over the buttons of his shirt. “But he's not down here.” She came closer and Donovan wrapped her up in his arms. Their lips came closer and her hand slowly moved down. “Even if he were, I don't care.”

Half an hour later there was a knock on the door and then it promptly flew open. The first person in was Albert, who closed his eyes as Donovan quickly pulled up his trousers and Naomh rushed to lower her dress.

“Fucksake, Al!” Donovan swore. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Security guys found a body. I was specially notified.” Albert looked at them sternly.

Donovan's eyes opened wide. “Why?”

“We asked to be given every case like the Denny Lang death.”

Donovan was silent for a moment. “Same thing?”

“Same thing.”

It took Donovan a while to collect his thoughts and ask the natural question. “Who?”

“Your janitor.”

Donovan swore. Naomh sat quietly on the sofa. She did not quite know what to do in that moment, even though it was her job to know exactly what to do in a situation like this. But the truth was she solved the same problems over and over, but she had never experienced being caught with her pants down in the more than close proximity of a murder.

“You two will need to come upstairs with me. I'm going to need to ask you some questions.”

“Hell, Albert, you don't think....” Donovan began.

Albert interrupted him. “Don't know. Don't think so. But you know the way it works.”