“I’m guilty of something else?”
“I don’t know. You’re too involved and I wonder if you’re trying to hide something.”
I wanted to defend myself. But Gaylord would have thought that a bad idea, so I didn’t respond.
Inspector Pierce didn’t seem to care. He moved the chair under the window and climbed atop it. “Still looks like a file was taken to it, but I have a hard time believing anyone would hold out much hope that that would work.” He climbed down and grabbed the chair. “It looks no different down here than when I first saw it, except for the flowers. I don’t think you tampered with anything.”
“Of course not.”
He sent me a stern look, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since my father caught me trying a cigarette when I was fourteen. One cough-riddled puff had been the extent of my bad-girl ways. Dad’s stern look had thwarted that method of rebellion, but not as much as the burn in my chest and throat had.
Inspector Pierce carried the chair as we headed back down the close toward the bookshop.
“Delaney, have you ever heard of Dr. Glenn?” he asked as we came out of the close and into Grassmarket.
“Sounds like a name I’ve heard, but I can’t place when,” I said.
“Okay, so have you ever heard of the murderer Dr. Glenn?”
“No.”
“Look him up. He was friends with Dr. Eban and Dr. Carson. Ten years ago, he was accused of killing some patients at the hospital. He was also a professor at the medical school.” He stopped walking and put the chair down. He pulled out his phone and called up a website. He held the phone toward me. “Have you ever seen this man?”
I looked at the picture a long time because, in fact, he did look familiar, but only slightly.
“I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him, but his face is so … normal.”
“Right, average in every way, except murder, apparently,” Inspector Pierce said. “This picture is ten years old. Can you imagine him with ten more years?”
“Not really. What happened? He’s a killer?”
“Yes. Look up the stories, look up more pictures. I’d like you to keep aware, and keep a look out for someone who might look like him. Run the other way if you see him, and then call me. Do not approach him, no matter what. In fact, stay away from all of them.”
I nodded, and didn’t tell him I was going over to see Dr. Eban just as soon as he left.
“All right. I want one of those scalpels. Will you get it for me?”
“Of course.”
He picked up the chair again and resumed walking back into the bookshop.
I looked around one more time before I followed him. There was nothing out of place. The flowers were a bittersweet reminder of the tragedy that had occurred, but the infrequently walked through close was not very notable, considering that according to Bridget Carr it was covering up old witch bones. It seemed like there should be more to it, but it was one of the plainest closes I’d seen in Edinburgh.
Nevertheless, I reminded myself, women may have been killed and then buried there as alleged witches, and a terrible murder had just occurred there. The close may have looked plain enough, but the feeling in the air was anything but.
I shivered and followed Inspector Pierce inside. He took the scalpel and left.
FIFTEEN
I didn’t always make the best decisions. I knew this, but as I knocked softly on the door I took a deep breath and told myself it would all be okay. My concerns had nothing to do with meeting Dr. Eban in his office. There was plenty of foot traffic in the building today, and I’d leave the door open. I’d set something else in motion, and no matter that I already regretted doing it, there was no turning back now.
“Come in,” Dr. Eban said.
I pushed through.
“Oh! I know you,” he said after he stood and looked at me with thoughtful consideration.
“Yes, from the pub Friday night.” I set the book, back in the sleeve, on my side of his desk and extended my hand. “Delaney Nichols. I’m sorry to bother you so soon after such a tragedy for the medical school, but my boss is very interested in understanding these books’ value, and after meeting you, I thought you’d be the perfect appraiser. I ran into your wife and she confirmed my idea.”
He shook my hand slowly, his eyes angling with more than curiosity. “I see. I’m not an appraiser, though; you do understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course.” I waved it off. “But you’re a medical professional, the first one I’ve met here in town on a personal level … and Dr. Carson said you know your books.”
He nodded. “That’s right: Kansas, in the States.” He smiled as if the pieces had come together in an appealing way. But then he frowned. “Hang on. Mallory was killed near the bookshop where you work? Meg didn’t say … I…”
“Yes, she was killed near there. I’m not sure your wife made the connection either after I told her where I worked.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
He lifted his eyebrows, and I wondered if he was trying to tell me that his wife wouldn’t have missed the connection. But all he said was, “All right.”
“We’ve given full access to the police, and they’ve cleared the shop.” I didn’t want to sound unsympathetic, but I also wanted to divert Dr. Eban away from thinking that someone who worked there might have had something to do with the murder.
If he knew about the article in the Renegade Scot I didn’t want to give him time to remember it. I forged on, “My timing is insensitive. If you’d like for me to come back another day … I’m sorry about Mallory, but my boss really would like me to find out more about these books. I … well, I heard some books were stolen from the university, maybe from the medical school, recently I think. My boss heard that too. We thought you might know if that was real or just a rumor. I guess I’m also making sure these aren’t the stolen items. You know, before we get the police involved. If we have to, I mean.” It was all improvised, but not too far from the truth.
It was difficult to interpret what was going on behind Dr. Eban’s bright, intelligent eyes. No matter that I liked him, I couldn’t deny that he was odd in a way I still couldn’t pinpoint, smart beyond ways I could imagine. I’d yet to see his macabre side, but I would have liked to. I couldn’t help but speculate that he didn’t think like the rest of us normal, not-genius-type people did.
Finally, he said, “Have a seat, and let me see what you’ve brought.”
I left the door open, and he didn’t ask me to shut it.
“Sure. I only brought one, but we do have the whole set.”
His eyes widened as I pulled the book out of the sleeve and scooted it in his direction.
“May I touch it?” he said.
“Only if you don’t have chocolate on your hands.”
He didn’t smile, but he did check his hands. “They look clean.” He held them out for me to inspect.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. Of course, please look through it. It isn’t fragile enough to be destroyed with a careful look-through.”
He was slow and meticulous, though there was a moment as he turned a page that I thought I saw expectation, followed by confirmation.
“Have you seen this book before?” I asked.
“Not this one specifically, but I have looked through other copies. We have a couple in the library. This copy is magnificent, though. Pristine.”
I was silent as he fell under the book’s spell again, and I resisted checking my watch or phone for the time. That something else that I was worried about depended upon timing. I’d know in about thirty seconds, I thought, if I’d planned well.
“Lovely.” He closed the book.
“So, this doesn’t look like something stolen from the university?”
“No. I would have been aware of that.”
“That’s good news. Any idea what a whole set would be worth?”
“I could only venture a guess, but I imagine the medical school would pay handso
mely.”
“That’s good to know,” I said as the phone on his desk rang.
“Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Dr. Eban,” he said in a clipped tone. “I don’t understand … Call security…” He turned his chair and looked out the window. “I don’t see anything. Where? All right, one moment. I’ll be right out.”
He hung up the phone and stood. “I apologize. There’s something going on outside the building. Excuse me a moment, but I’ll be right back.”
I held my breath as he left the office.
I felt terrible for the trick, and surprised he’d fallen for one of the oldest ones in the book, but extra grateful that Joshua had agreed to help, that he had access to Dr. Eban’s direct office number, and that he knew how to make the call look like it came from an unassigned number. I’d thought maybe Dr. Eban wouldn’t answer, but he had.
I had disembarked the bus briefly. I’d stopped by the museum on the way to the medical school and asked Joshua for some help. He’d been more than willing to play the part. He’d called Dr. Eban and said there seemed to be some sort of issue outside the building and that those involved said they wanted to speak only to him. Joshua was outside now, presumably watching Dr. Eban and hiding behind a tree.
It was a terrible and probably somehow illegal thing to do, and the fact that I’d gotten a young person involved was making me feel awful.
Nevertheless, I hurried around the desk and touched the mouse pad sitting on Dr. Eban’s laptop, bringing the machine to life. As I’d hoped, his email was open and easy to see.
I didn’t want to read any of the emails. I just wanted to see who they were from; at least that was what I kept telling myself.
I held my phone at the ready. Joshua was going to text me the second he saw Dr. Eban come back into the building, but our quick calculations had led us to think he’d be away from his office for about three minutes.
I quickly scrolled through the in-box list, seeing many names, most of them female (though that wasn’t what I was looking for, and I didn’t think it mattered), but not one that looked familiar. Most of the names were followed by @edinmed.org.
But then, about twenty emails down, I saw one that didn’t seem to be from a university account. There was another reason it caught my attention. The moniker was Glasgowgirl50, and the server wasn’t part of the school’s network. And I knew this address.
I didn’t have a lot of time to think about what I was doing. I knew it was bad enough that I’d done this much. I didn’t know where in the spectrum of lawbreaking my actions fell, but I was at least invading privacy.
The email from Glasgowgirl50 was in the group of already read emails. He’d never know if I opened it.
I opened it.
Dr. Eban, I need to talk to you about our deal. Meet me Friday night, after pub hours. Same place.–R
It was dated the day before Mallory had been killed. My heart sank. The email was from Rena, or at least from the address she’d used to send me a few emails.
My phone dinged.
He’s back in the building.
I closed everything I’d opened and scrolled everything back into position. But when I got to the top a new email appeared, lit blue as it bumped the rest of the emails down a line.
It was from [email protected].
I only had about twenty seconds, and he would know the email had been opened if I clicked on it. As tempting as it was, I took my hand off the mouse and hurried around to the other side of the desk, taking my seat a mere moment before he came into the office.
I noticed two things as the door opened. I’d left my phone on the other side of the desk, and Dr. Eban’s chair was still turning as a result of my rushed exit from it.
I stood just as he came into the room and made a move toward the door, hoping to make our dance look like awkward bad timing.
“Oh, excuse me, I was just coming out to check on you,” I said. I hoped I’d hid the moving chair. It had stopped when I turned around and leaned over for the book, grabbing my phone as I did so, but I didn’t know what he’d seen. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. You have work to do.”
We danced around each other another moment before he stepped around the desk and sat down again.
“I apologize for the interruption. I have no idea what was going on out there, but it was over by the time I could observe.”
“No problem,” I said with a smile. I knew my face was flushed with guilt, but I hoped he interpreted it as me just being flustered over the awkward moment.
He didn’t look at his laptop screen. He didn’t behave as if he was even a tiny bit suspicious.
“Please sit again. I still have some time,” he said.
I sat and silently told my heart to quiet down.
“All right, back tae the books. Do you think your boss would allow the school tae purchase them? I have authority tae do such things, and could offer this.” He took a small notepad out of a desk drawer and wrote down a sum.
“Oh my. That’s quite generous. I’d be happy to ask him,” I said.
“Excellent.” He paused. “Do you think I should up the sum just tae make sure we get them?”
I didn’t think he should. In fact, I knew that Edwin would probably donate the books to the library or medical school at some point if he felt that was the best home for them. But I didn’t tell Dr. Eban that yet.
“I’ll let you know what he says.”
“Between you and me, I’d be happy tae go higher.” He looked longingly at the book, which I was probably holding a bit too tightly.
“Want to look through it again before I go?”
“May I? I promise only tae take a wee bit more of your time.”
“Sure.” I slid the book back to him.
He didn’t look at it much longer, but I tried to observe what I could. He wasn’t creepy, at least not to me. He’d been friendly, but not too. He hadn’t leered at me. His interest in the books was genuine, as well as professional. The very bad idea that I should try to proposition him just to see what he did danced through my thoughts, but fortunately it fell flat. I’d done enough.
We bid each other polite goodbyes with the promise that I’d get back to him soon.
It was impossible not to feel terrible about my intrusion as I made my way out of the building.
Joshua met me as I turned the corner.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“There wasn’t much to see,” I said. “But I did what I wanted to do. Thank you for being my partner in crime, though I feel bad for asking you.”
“Don’t! That was exciting,” he said.
I cringed. “No, that was terrible. And, again, I’m sorry I asked you to participate. Thank you again.”
“Are you kidding? That was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Have you forgotten, I’ve just finished a dissertation? I deserved a little adventure.”
Oh geez.
“Come on. I’ll buy you lunch and talk you out of a further life of crime,” I said.
“Good luck with that.” He smiled, way too big.
SIXTEEN
After a hurried lunch (Joshua did have to get back to work), as I made my way to the offices of the Renegade Scot, I wondered if Dr. Eban had seen the article and was just being polite about not bringing it up, or if he hadn’t seen it yet.
What did Bridget Carr want from him? Was it just because he was a professor at the medical school, or had she found out that he’d sat at the same table in a pub with Mallory the night she’d been killed? Had she also found out that I’d been a part of that group?
Though I was glad I hadn’t opened the unopened email, I felt a tiny bit of regret over not having read it. I wondered if I could steer a conversation with her in that direction.
However, I had something else I wanted to talk to her about first.
As I peered inside the window of the small newspaper office, I remembered a friend’s story. She told me that the best way to figure out if a newsp
aper is getting readers is for a business to advertise something in it they’ll give away free of charge, then see how long the line grows. Not a technical method, but reliable.
I’d called Rosie to see if the bookshop had had any other calls. She said no and that there hadn’t been an unusual rush of customers. I hoped the article wouldn’t cause people to stay away, but the fact that there hadn’t been more curiosity made me wonder just how many people really had read it. I knew that the people in my circle had, but that would be expected.
I didn’t know the circulation of the Renegade Scot, but it had a small staff. Bridget sat at a desk in the back of the room, her concentrated focus on the computer screen in front of her and not on the guy who was peering over her shoulder, staring at the same screen.
Two other desks were manned with people also concentrating on their screens, and three other people were up and moving around, all of them carrying things like papers, pens, and smart phones.
I opened the door, but didn’t hear any sort of ding to announce my arrival. For a long few moments, nobody noticed I was there.
“Help you?” one of the young men walking by asked. He tried to look friendly, but I could tell he was frazzled.
“I was hoping to talk to Bridget.” I nodded toward her desk.
She looked up, lifted her eyebrows, and forced a confidence into her expression before she scooted herself away from the desk.
“Hello,” she said as she approached. “What can I do for you, Delaney?”
I shrugged. “You got my name right, but you made up the rest.”
“I didn’t make anything up.”
“You intimated.”
“That’s not making things up.”
I sighed. “Can we talk somewhere?”
“Now you want tae talk?”
I glared at her—I could feel the heat in my eyes—before I turned to leave. I hadn’t come to her office for a friendly conversation, but this wasn’t going in a good direction at all.
“Wait!” she said as she followed me out the door and to the sidewalk. “Hang on.”
I turned around slowly.
“Look, there was a murder right outside your bookshop. No one would talk tae me. It’s my job tae write the truth. That’s what I wrote, even if there might have been a few unclear things.”
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