The Loch Ness Papers

by Paige Shelton

  As we were on the way, Angus Murdoch had called Edwin, asking if he was available for dinner, and if I could join them too. Edwin neglected to mention that I was sitting in the same car with him, and instead said he’d track me down and check. I’d given up trying to catch up with my family for the day. I wasn’t going to put off searching Norval’s flat another moment, and I wouldn’t miss dinner with Angus and Edwin either. My family was going to have to experience more of Scotland without me.

  “Okay. What are we looking for?” Edwin asked as he plopped his hands on his hips, his feet placed precariously between a couple of stacks of papers.

  “I really have no idea,” I said. “Something that would assure the world that Norval isn’t a killer.”

  “Well. Okay. Let’s get to work.”

  There were so many pieces of paper that it was impossible to digest much of anything. It was interesting and somewhat alarming that many of the papers were covered in handwriting, Norval’s I presumed. I’d seen movies or read books where someone was compelled to write and repeat themselves on paper or over walls. That was the same sort of compulsion I saw on many of the papers. One folder was full of pieces of paper with “Loch Ness/Nessie” scribbled on them over and over again. I realized that Norval’s mental health might be more challenged than I thought. Perhaps he couldn’t take care of himself, his basic needs. Or, maybe he’d created these files planning to hide things inside of them. It would take someone with more time, patience, and knowledge than I had to make such a determination. As it was, I tried to flip through everything I came upon, but I knew I wasn’t being thorough.

  We found more interesting first-hand, handwritten accounts of Nessie, and those slowed our search a bit. Still, though, we were there with a purpose in mind, and I didn’t want to get caught up in anything that didn’t ring of real proof of Norval’s innocence.

  “I don’t think we’re focused enough,” Edwin said not long into the search.

  “I know. I feel like we’re looking for a specific piece of hay in a haystack, but there’s no way to know which piece of hay we need.” I pulled open a short drawer tucked underneath the lip of an end table. “Film. Photographs, not video. Negatives.”

  Just like the kind my parents had in envelopes back home, the drawer was full of strips of negatives. I reached in and, using my fingertips along the edges, grabbed a few. One at a time, I held them up to the light.

  “Uh, Edwin,” I said a moment later. “Come look at this one.”

  Edwin high-stepped over stacks and then crouched next to me as we looked at the negative.

  “May I?” he asked as he reached for it.

  He took it and angled it in a couple of different directions toward the diffused light coming from the back of the apartment; today, all the windows and the sliding glass door were covered in shades.

  He looked at me with an expression I’d never seen before. “Do you think?”

  “It’s hard to tell on a negative.”

  “Delaney, could it be possible?”

  “Anything’s possible,” I said.

  In the tiny rendering, we could see a young man on one knee on the shore of a body of water. But it was what was in the water behind the man that truly got our attention. A dragon, or a dinosaur, or a mix between the two was there, its head and long neck out of the water. Maybe there were flippers on its front, keeping it afloat. It was the clearest proof I’d seen. It was also a tiny negative that might illustrate something altogether different when developed and enlarged.

  “Do you think that’s Norval with … well, with her?” Edwin asked.

  “Hard to tell,” I said. “I wonder if we can get it developed and analyzed for authenticity.”

  “Let’s take some of the negatives, that one for sure. You can let Inspector Winters know if you want, but I won’t tell.”

  I gathered a stack of negatives, put them in a plain envelope, and then inside my bag. We found a box for the projector and the films, but we didn’t find anything that pointed to Gavin’s killer or Norval’s innocence. No note, knife, or deck of cards. If the police had found any of those items, they’d probably taken them in.

  In fact, I wondered briefly why they hadn’t taken the negatives or the films. Though anyone might be curious about Nessie, the police had had the singular purpose of finding evidence—of a killer. However, if even an officer of the law had come across conclusive proof of Nessie, he or she might have been compelled to pocket the proof themselves. It was impossible to know if something was missing.

  I hoped Norval wasn’t a killer. I hoped Gavin’s killer would be found. And, I hoped to find out if Nessie existed. No, that wasn’t it exactly. I hoped Nessie was real, and I wanted irrefutable evidence. I didn’t want credit for the discovery, but I wanted to see it, digest it. Know it.

  We packed up the projector and the developed films, a few files with handwritten firsthand accounts, and took pictures on my phone of a couple notes we found by Norval’s phone with Gavin’s name. One simply said, “Call Gavin.” The other one said, “Gavin lunch cancelled. Move to another day.”

  If one of those held a clue, neither Edwin nor I picked up on it.

  We made a few trips out to Edwin’s car. After we had everything, I felt I should take one last look.

  “Give me a minute,” I said to Edwin.

  Edwin watched me over the top of his car as I jogged back down to Norval’s door. I put my hand on the knob and made myself be still. Was my intuition trying to tell me something?

  I got nothing.

  But as I unlocked the door and pushed it open, I noticed a flash of color sticking out from under the edge of the Nessie welcome mat, the one that had made me smile that first day.

  I bent down and lifted the mat. It was a business card. And it came from someone I knew. Angus Murdoch. I bit my bottom lip as I stared at the card. Tom and I had seen him by the church and he’d been curious about the crime scene tape. Had he come over to check out the tape, or to talk to Norval at some point? Or, had the card fluttered here in the breeze and finding it now wedged under Norval’s mat was just happenstance?

  I put the card in the inside pocket of my jacket. In only a short time, I could ask the man himself why it was there, under the welcome mat of the man who’d been arrested for killing his great-nephew.

  I hurried back to show it to Edwin. Now I couldn’t wait for dinner.

  TWENTY-NINE

  It was just Edwin, Angus, and me. My family was having too much fun at an outdoor reenactment of a famous Scottish vs. English battle to leave the subsequent pig roast that was to take place. I couldn’t blame them, and I wondered if maybe Tom and I shouldn’t just be tourists for a little while during our honeymoon. I’d seen a reenactment or two, but never one with a pig roast. Tom was busy at the pub and Artair, Elias, and Aggie were with my family. However, I’d asked everyone to meet us later at The Cracked Spine for a movie event.

  Edwin had told Angus that we’d meet him at Vanessa’s restaurant, and our new friend from Texas was right on time. He sauntered in with a cowboy walk that matched his cowboy smile. He lifted off his hat when his eyes landed on mine and his smile got bigger. He wove his way through the crowd to what was probably the best table in the house, set in a cozy, windowed nook that was somewhat private.

  His style made an impression, and it was interesting to watch others watching him as he made his way to us.

  “Hello y’all,” he said, greeting us.

  Edwin stood and greeted him. As they sat, Angus reached over the table to shake my hand. “I’m pleased as punch that you could join us too, Delaney.”

  “Thanks for the invitation,” I said.

  “It’s just us,” Edwin said. “I asked everyone else at the bookshop but they were all busy.”

  “Well, I think three’s aplenty.” He looked at me. “And some time to get to know this lovely lady without her … everyone else, is a welcome opportunity.”

  A waiter, who seemed to know Edwin, ap
proached and began by letting us know that Vanessa would be out to greet us later, but she was currently busy with something in the kitchen. Edwin ordered wine for the table and then made dinner recommendations. I chose the lasagna, Edwin the macaroni and cheese, and Angus the rib-eye steak and some smoky whisky.

  “So, what have you seen in our fair country, Angus?” Edwin asked as the waiter left with the menus.

  “Just about everything in Edinburgh, and I even found my way up to Loch Ness for a short trip. I’d like to get to Glasgow and Inverness, but I’m leaving tomorrow, so I’ve run out of time.”

  Opportunity handed to me, I said, “Did you like Loch Ness?”

  “I did. It was … bigger than I thought, but I didn’t see Nessie.” He laughed and winked at me. “Have you seen her?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Edwin?” Angus asked.

  “I haven’t seen her either,” he said.

  “Are you particularly interested in her?” I asked.

  “Not really, but I would love to see her,” he answered as he reached for a piece of sourdough from the breadbasket on the table.

  “Me too,” I said.

  I wanted to ask about the business card under Norval’s mat but I wasn’t ready quite yet. Angus turned to Edwin.

  “Edwin, have you remembered anything? Have you checked any of your old records or … well, found anything? Have you found any evidence of the book ever being in your shop, proof of my grandfather’s theft?”

  As the waiter placed our drinks in front of us, I noticed something different in Angus’s tone. It was now full of emotion. I tried to put myself in his shoes. He’d come to Scotland to return the book, get some answers. But he had no distance from what his grandfather had done. I would feel guilty too, but not that guilty. I would probably have called the bookshop in question and then mailed them the book—after insuring it to the gills. I wouldn’t have felt as terrible as he felt, and my life was all about old books. What were we missing?

  Had he not trusted his grandfather? Did he feel as if he had somehow been lied to, posthumously? It wasn’t just affection; there was more going on here. What was it?

  “I can’t remember a thing,” Edwin said. “I’ve tried, but I’ve got nothing, lad. I’m sorry about that.”

  Angus’s mouth pinched tightly, but only briefly. He nodded. But then his shoulders relaxed. Was he relieved? “I understand.”

  “In fact, I’d truly like tae give the book back tae you,” Edwin said.

  “No!” Angus cleared his throat. “I mean, no thank you. It’s yours, somehow. If you ever figure out the story behind it, I’d appreciate hearing it, but I won’t be taking that book back.”

  “You’re relieved,” I said aloud.

  “I am, particularly since it’s so valuable. It’s out of my hands now. No, ma’am, I don’t need to be responsible for such a thing.”

  I nodded. Okay, I thought. Maybe that’s all it was; freedom from responsibility. Maybe.

  “If I sell it, together we can come up with a viable cause or charity for donation,” Edwin said.

  “You wouldn’t keep it?” Angus asked.

  “I don’t know. Would it bother you if I didn’t?”

  “No,” Angus said unconvincingly. He cleared his throat. “No, of course not. It’s your book.” He lifted his whisky and said, “One for all and all for one!”

  Edwin and I looked at each other. Did Angus think his quote was something from King Arthur? Well-known words from The Three Musketeers, it was a strange comment. In the span of a few seconds and with our eyes only, Edwin and I shared our surprise at the mistake. Mistakes, misquotes happened all the time. No one was immune to them. Maybe Angus hadn’t intended to toast with a quote anyway. Maybe it was just something he said.

  “Aye,” Edwin said as he and I lifted our wineglasses.

  We toasted and for a long moment, the buzz of the restaurant crowd and the bread took center stage. It was really good bread.

  Angus looked at me. “Congratulations on the marriage. Your fiancé is a lucky guy.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.” Angus paused and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Did you two meet here or did you move here for him?”

  It wasn’t a rude question, but there was an edge to his voice, maybe something like a challenge. I bristled.

  “We met here,” I said, clipped.

  Edwin studied Angus as one of his eyebrows lifted.

  “And how long have you been here in Scotland? Did you tell me that yet?” Angus asked.

  “Just over a year,” I answered.

  Angus chuckled a little. “Taken in by a kilt, I imagine.”

  “He’s…” I was going to say how wonderful Tom was, but I realized it would have sounded both immature and defensive. “Yes, he’s lovely in a kilt.”

  Angus leaned back in his chair and wrapped his hand around his tumbler. He lifted the glass and swirled the liquid inside as he smirked in my direction. “It’s too bad you didn’t come to Texas first.”

  Now Edwin bristled while I fought a rise of heat in my cheeks. In another tone, maybe something playful, perhaps there would be nothing wrong with what he said, but it certainly sounded strange. I hoped Edwin wouldn’t jump in and say something, but I knew he wanted to. I tried to give myself time to think of an appropriate response, one that I wouldn’t replay later and wish I’d worded differently. I realized in the small beat of time that perhaps I (Edwin too) was taking Angus’s words too seriously. He probably thought he was being complimentary, not arrogant and offensive.

  “Good evening,” Vanessa said as she stopped next to Edwin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say hello earlier.”

  “Not tae worry,” Edwin said as he gallantly kissed the top of her hand. “This is Angus Murdoch, a visitor from Texas in America.”

  “Pleasure,” Vanessa said.

  Angus stood and shook her hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet another beautiful woman.”

  Edwin and I exchanged a glance. Maybe this was just Angus’s way.

  “Can I get any of you anything?” Vanessa said.

  “We’ve ordered dinner,” Edwin said. “Can you join us?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t.” She smiled at him.

  I suddenly realized how similar Edwin’s and my love lives had become. We were both dating night workers, a pub owner and a restaurant owner. My boss and I were doomed to many evenings alone. I smiled at the similarities.

  “This is a great place,” Angus said, still standing.

  “Thank you. Please sit. I’m just flying by,” Vanessa said.

  Angus sat and grabbed the whisky again. The way he leaned back in his chair and looked at Vanessa made me certain that his way was just his way, uncomfortable. It verged on creepy, but maybe I was just being too sensitive. I looked up at Vanessa, who seemed to only have eyes for Edwin. If she knew how Angus was looking at her, she didn’t care. I sat up straighter. Okay then, I didn’t care either.

  “The bread is amazing,” I said.

  Vanessa laughed. “You’re not the first to tell me that. Some people come in just for the bread, but I hope you enjoy the rest of the meal too.”

  “I have no doubt that we will,” I said.

  “Well, thanks for coming by tonight. I must run, but I hope to see you all later.”

  Dinner was served moments after Vanessa took off back to the kitchen. We didn’t mention the films waiting at The Cracked Spine, but they must have been on our minds because the conversation turned to movies. Angus jumped at the topic with gusto. He loved movies and enjoyed sharing his expertise. I liked movies, but they weren’t part of Edwin’s typical routine. However, Angus’s enthusiasm and knowledge of plotlines and cinematography kept both my boss and me intrigued through dinner and dessert, and I managed to put Angus’s over-the-top personality traits aside.

  “Can I get the bill?” he asked when dinner, dessert, and more drinks were finished.

  “It’s tak
en care of, but thank you,” Edwin said.

  “That’s mighty kind of you, Edwin. Thank you.”

  “Can we give you a lift back tae your hotel?” Edwin asked.

  “No, thank you. I enjoy walking around the city.”

  I was glad to step outside into the fresh air. Vanessa’s restaurant was comfortable and the food delicious, but dinner with Angus and his big personality had been work.

  However, I had one more thing I wanted to ask him.

  “Well, it’s been a pleasure,” Edwin said. He took in a deep breath of the chilly evening.

  “The pleasure has been all mine,” Angus said, his eyes on mine only.

  I shook it off. “Oh! Angus, I just remembered something. I saw your card.”

  “My card?”

  “Yes, your business card was tucked under a welcome mat.”

  “Really? How strange. Where?”

  “Remember the crime scene tape over that door, close to the church? My friend lives there?”

  “Sure. I remember,” he said, his tone cool.

  “Your card was under his mat. Did you run over and take a look?” I smiled.

  “No, ma’am,” he said as he fell into thought. “I must have dropped a card by the church and it blew where you found it. I did visit the church. You and your fella said it would be okay if the door was unlocked.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “Makes sense.”

  He shrugged. “Must have been it. Listen, y’all, it’s been a pleasure.” He swung his attitude back to friendly, pumped our hands, and smiled big.

  “Let me know if you remember anything at all, alrighty?” Angus said to Edwin.

  “Definitely,” Edwin said. “Safe travels, Angus.”

  “Thank you. Best of luck to you and your fella,” Angus said to me.

  “Thank you.”

  “And off he rode into the sunset,” I muttered quietly to Edwin as we watched Angus walk away. “The star of the upcoming film, A Cowboy in Edinburgh.”