The next day found me headed to Avenches again, this time on my beloved bike. When I had pushed my machine out of the old stable in the chill of an autumn dawn, anticipation made me giddy. This might be one of the last chances for a ride before winter made outings too dangerous. The prospect of meeting Vic's ominous ghost added to the excitement.

The mist hung low over the hills, and the colourful trees and the brisk freshness of the air spelled out that summer was a thing of the past. I cherished this time of the year when the forests were impressionist paintings in gold, rust, and green. But the knowledge winter waited around the corner made me feel a little sad and nostalgic.

The ride was over almost too soon. Matt's van stood already in the parking lot in front of the depot when I slowed and pulled into the driveway. I wasn't surprised. I had long since learned that against the first impression I gained when we met last summer, my partner was reliable and far more punctual than I. What I hadn't expected was the white-and-orange patrol car parked in front of the depot's entrance.

I pulled my bike to a stop beside Matt's van. He leaned against the driver's door, his hands buried in the pockets of a black fleece jacket, and observed the people who moved in and out of the building.

"Morning, Matt. What happened here?" I pushed up my visor and unlatched my helmet, following his gaze.

"Good morning. I haven't talked to anyone yet, but my best guess is a break-in." He pointed at a man in uniform. "The officer with the latex gloves examined the door's lock a moment ago."

"Strange coincidence, after Vic's unexpected call last night. Have you seen her?"

"Her car isn't around yet, so she might still be on the way. What time is it?"

"No idea, but there wasn't much traffic on the road, so we might both be early." I watched as two officers spoke to a dark-haired man in working clothes by the entrance—perhaps the forklift driver from yesterday. He shook his head, gesturing towards the town. I sighed. "Maybe we should move—I'm not sure I want to get caught up in another police investigation." The lengthy enquiry we'd suffered after reporting an accident last summer still stuck in my memory, and I felt a vague unease which I couldn't place.

Matt frowned and nodded towards the building. "Too late, I'd say."

A female officer approached us with determined strides now. Her black hair was cut short, and she looked trim in her dark blue and black uniform, a sidearm holstered at her belt. In her hand, she carried a notebook and a pen.

I kicked out the stand of my bike, pulled off my helmet and hung it over the rearview mirror.

Matt smiled at our visitor. "Good morning. How can we help you, officer?"

"Good morning. May I ask what your business here is?" Sarah Meyer—according to the name tag on her chest—smiled friendly enough. My unease must have been triggered by something else.

Matt shrugged. "We have an appointment with Doctor Bourquin at eight."

"Doctor Bourquin?" One well-trimmed eyebrow rose in question.

"Victorine Bourquin, an archaeologist who works for the department here." Matt pointed with his chin at the depot while his open attitude and tousled hair worked their usual magic. The policewoman's features softened to a smile. She noted down Vic's name and relaxed her shoulders. My partner used the advantage and waved a hand towards the building. "What happened?"

"I really shouldn't share details about an ongoing investigation with unrelated persons, sorry. When did you arrive here?"

I passed my gloved hand through the hot air rising from my bike's motor. "Two or three minutes at most."

Matt checked his phone for the time. "I've been here longer. Perhaps five or six minutes, quarter to eight or thereabouts. Your patrol car was already parked in front of the building when I arrived."

The officer nodded. "May I still ask for your names and numbers?"

Before we could give them to her, the deep cough of an ancient motor announced Vic's arrival. She pulled up right beside us and lowered the window. "Hey, what's up?"

The officer scrutinised her out of squinted eyes and checked her notebook. "Are you Doctor Victorine Bourquin?"

"At your service." Vic climbed out of the car, tucked a strand of her open but still damp hair behind her ear, and shook the policewoman's hand. "Why are you looking for me?"

"Not for you in person, but we are investigating the break-in, and this gentleman told us you work here." The smile she gave Matt would have made me envious if I'd been in any close relationship with him.

Vic glanced at the depot's open door. "A break-in? When did it happen? Was anything stolen?"

"That's what we try to find out now. Would you mind accompanying me inside for the paperwork? Your colleagues help to make an inventory." I wondered how anyone could make an inventory of this place in a hurry.

Vic's face had lost most of its colour. "Sure, I'm at your service."

"Thank you." Officer Meyer nodded at us. "Please excuse us for the moment."

The archaeologist joined the officer on her way to the building, but stopped after a few paces and turned back. "Would you mind waiting? Or you could have a coffee, and I'll call you when I'm free again."

After we gave her our names and addresses—just in case, as she said—officer Meyer allowed us to leave. We found a nice and quiet café at the edge of town and installed us at a table by the window. Our discussion on potential reasons for a break-in proved futile, though, and we used the time to check the Ghost Guard mail account for potential business on Matt's laptop.

"Seems we're still out of luck." Matt folded the screen and stowed the computer in its case to stir his almost empty coffee. "Such a pity it turned out there wasn't a genuine ghost on the excavation to investigate."

I frowned, taken aback. "Didn't Vic tell you? She called me late last night to confess she observed a ghost right there in the depot after work."

Matt forgot to close his mouth for a few seconds and his spoon clattered forgotten to the oiled hardwood tabletop. This brought us scalding glances from the three elderly ladies at the next table and an apologetic smile onto Matt's face. He placed the offensive spoon on the saucer and steepled his fingers. "She told me she needed your number to apologise for Pauli's behaviour. Not a single word about a ghost."

"Perhaps she wanted to test the waters with me first. I think she might be embarrassed admitting she has witnessed something paranormal. After all, she used to bully you for your beliefs, right?" No use talking around the facts.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I've never seen it from this angle, but yes, it comes down to a matter of low-case bullying. So, she's seen the ghost again, this time without a rational explanation to negate her observation. But how did it move from the dig site to the depot?"

"That's what I asked myself, too. The only possibility seems to be that it is attached to the finds from the dig and was brought in together with them. Sir Guillaume suggests we deal with the ghost of a deceased Roman, someone whose remains the team excavated in the cemetery."

"Oh, did you have a meeting with our special advisor?" The mention of Sir Guillaume brought a smile to his face and lightened his mood.

"Yes, he came to apologise after an unfortunate run in with some innocent backpackers in the whirlpool. In his typical circuitous way, of course. I just hope the nice French couple is fine. When Guillaume found me studying the newspaper, he was hooked. You know our medieval friend is curiosity personified."

Matt laughed. "He is, but in a way I like. And if the old chap is right, it would explain why we couldn't find ectoplasmic traces in the excavation tent. The ghost probably moved on long before we arrived on site."

"True, which makes me wonder if there is a connection between the fact a ghost took residence in the depot and that ominous burglary." I emptied my cup and ordered another.

Matt did the same. "I can't imagine the two events are connected. Why would someone choose to break into a haunted building? It seems more likely that they were after precious artifacts." The waitress arrived with two fresh cups and he smiled at her. The woman left with an additional spring in her step.

I gave my best to think of a possible thread binding the ghost and the burglary together, but drew a blank. "I'm out of my depth. It just seems too much of a coincidence that a ghost and a burglar turn up at the same place on the same night. I don't believe it."

My partner shrugged. "Coincidences happen. We'll need to find out what the police think."

"We do. And that's only one part of the puzzle that doesn't fit anywhere right now."

Our discussion got stuck at this point.