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too.”
    “Why would someone want it? It was a fine violin. My grandfather made it. But it wasn’t something priceless. Besides, nobody has asked for any ransom, and none of the other violinists’ violins have turned out in the black market. Well, at least that we know of.”
    “Are you Donatelli’s granddaughter?” He looked surprised. “Emma? The double-jointed girl?”
    Emma felt herself blushing. “Um...yeah.”
    “Monsieur Dupriez talked about you a lot. It was annoying. The last time was to warn me that you would be my toughest rival at the Christmas competition.”
    “What? You’re competing, too?” The thought of competing against him sent a jolt of excitement through her. She had double joints, but something about the way he’d recited Holmes told her he had an uncanny memory, and this came extremely handy when memorizing concertos. “Who are you?”
    “Fletcher, Corey Fletcher.” The way he’d said it made her think of James Bond, but maybe she was being paranoid.
    “Oh, yeah... Monsieur Dupriez mentioned you, too.”
    “So what are you playing in the competition?” he asked.
    “The Beethoven.”
    His eyebrows shot upwards. “Cool.”
    “You?”
    “Brahms.”
    Hmm. Really? Brahms? Big deal. Okay, so she was a little bit jealous. It was a tough concerto to play well. But so was Beethoven’s.
    “‘I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner,’” Corey quoted in a stuck-up British accent again.
    Heat rose to her cheeks. “What?”
    “From The Man with the Twisted Lip .”
    Either he was a nutcase, a total show-off, or a genius. It certainly took a special talent to memorize lines so well from a book. It also took a great deal of self confidence to recite them to people he’d just met. Who did he think he was? So what if he was incredibly hot? He annoyed her. She was crazy about Sherlock Holmes, but the only line she could quote from him was “Elementary, my dear Watson,” just like the rest of the world. Oh, and, “The game is afoot.”
    “We’re wasting time,” Emma said, not impressed. “Let’s stick with what we came here to do.”
    “ Okay. ” He seemed amused. He put one hand up, palm out, and stepped out of her way. “You have a quick temper, don’t you?”
    “I’ve been accused of that,” she retorted.
    Emma searched around the room for something, anything that might offer a clue, while at the same time she tried not to feel self conscious under his presence. Then she stared at the carpet.
    She bent down and started rolling the carpet, displaying the floor beneath.
    “Let me help,” he offered.
    “Thanks.”
    They pushed the roll of carpet aside. The oak boards were marred with tiny dents, scratches, and some discoloration, but the floor looked normal.
    Emma kneeled down and knocked on the wood. “Seems solid.”
    He also went on his knees and together they knocked all over the floor looking for hollow sounds.
    His hand moved across a part of the floor that had been damaged. “What’s this?”
    “Discoloration. The varnish is gone.”
    “It seems more than discoloration.” He touched his nose to the wood and sniffed. “It smells like it’s burned.”
    “Burned?”
    Emma was about to smell the area in question when they heard voices from outside approaching the front door.
    A jolt of panic raced through her. “She’s back. Quickly, roll back the carpet!”

Chapter Nine
    I N ORDER TO KEEP AN EYE on Madame Dupriez, Annika followed her to the open market and offered to carry her bags on the way back. They had just returned and Annika wondered if Emma was still inside the house.
    “Well, here we are,” Annika said. She scanned the windows for signs of Emma.
    “I can take my bags now,” Madame Dupriez said grudgingly. She was still mad about the roses.
    “Oh no... I’ll bring them to your door.”
    “ Trés bien .” Madame Dupriez headed to the entrance.
    Standing