Lost Books and Old Bones

by Paige Shelton

  “I can only imagine,” I said.

  “Is the room what ye expected?” Artair asked.

  “More, probably. Do you know if any skulls have gone missing? Or pieces of skulls?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Have ye found one?”

  “One was left by Mallory Clacher’s body,” I said.

  “Och, poor lass. I hadn’t heard about the skull,” Artair said.

  “It’s not been made public.”

  “I see. Well, nothing has been stolen from here, at least that I’ve been made aware of. The collection is well guarded, and I’ve not heard of any thefts or damage. I’ll ask around tae make sure, though.”

  I noticed something on the end of one of the shelves. I became so focused on it that Elias had to quickly step out of my way as I approached it.

  “Is that a scalpel?” I said as I pointed.

  There was no question that it was exactly that, and there was no question that it looked like the others I’d seen lately.

  “Aye. One of Dr. Robert Knox’s, if the small sign there is tae be believed,” Artair said.

  “But you don’t know for sure that it was his?”

  “Well, I cannae be sure, but I doubt the folks who set up these displays would mark it that way if it wasn’t. Interesting, huh? They remind me of barbers’ razors.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “They would be pretty valuable, wouldn’t they?” I asked.

  “Aye,” Artair said.

  “Who would be most interested in this sort of thing? I mean, here or any other collector?”

  “Dr. Eban, certainly. He’s our resident collector of most of the medical history items. I know other collectors, but the list isn’t top of my mind.”

  I wasn’t surprised by his answer.

  “Dr. Eban’s filled a whole display case right outside his anatomy room. I catalogued a few items last year. No scalpels, though, I think. This is the only one I know about that’s on campus.”

  I blinked at Artair and then at Elias.

  “Ah, ye’d like tae see the display case?” Elias said.

  “I would, when we’re done here,” I said.

  “Awright,” Elias said. “I’ll drive again.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  There’s not much that compares with the smells of education. Though some of them change as you move through the years, there’s that lingering scent of dusty books and linoleum floor wax, mixed with a little fear and panic. Sometimes there’s a layer of cafeteria scents too, but not today, not in this building.

  “This must be the room,” I said to Elias as we stopped outside the room marked “Anatomical Theatre.”

  “That’s quite the display case,” he said as he peered inside the case, which was almost as crowded with stuff as Edwin’s warehouse shelves.

  “Do you see any scalpels?” I said as I dodged a few students entering the theater. I noticed the plaque Mallory had mentioned, about the theater being set up up like Dr. Knox’s.

  “That wee thing?” Elias pointed.

  I leaned over and looked where he was looking. “I’ll be. Yes, that looks exactly like the ones I found. Artair must not have known about it.”

  Elias slipped on his glasses. “The card next tae it says that it was a scalpel that belonged tae Dr. Robert Knox.”

  “Anything mentioning other scalpels that might be missing?”

  “Not that I see.”

  The hallway had emptied, doors to rooms and halls closing as the last of the students disappeared inside. I wanted to look more closely at the items in the display case, but I also didn’t want to miss my chance.

  “Let’s go in. If we can hide in the back, I’d like to observe,” I said as I moved to the door.

  “I’m right behind ye.”

  I was sure Elias expected the same sort of setup that I did—a tiered, circular room with a table in the middle where dissections could be observed. We hadn’t taken any time to think about what we were walking into, but the reality of the room, set up as I’d visualized, was much more discombobulating than I’d imagined it would be.

  The theater walls were painted light blue, a hue that seemed somehow frigid as well as comforting. Everything else in the seating area seemed to be made of old, dark wood: the curved desktops, the stools, and the panels that lined the outside of each tier. One staging area with a chrome body table was at the bottom of the tiers in the center. Another staging area that looked just like a small stage took up the back of the room. There were even industrial-gray curtains, currently wide open, showing the two doors where Dr. Eban must enter and exit. There was no body table on the stage. There was only a stool and a microphone, the microphone off to the side, the stool front and center. There was no cadaver in sight. Yet.

  We found two empty stools amid the only half-populated room. We could probably blend in. As I watched Elias rearrange his cap, I realized that I’d led us—mostly him—into maybe our strangest situation yet.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. This isn’t right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  A door at the back of the stage opened with a flourish, and Dr. Eban walked in.

  I sensed that by that point it would have been weirder to leave than just to sit there and observe. Elias must have sensed the same thing, and we lowered a little on our stools. However, neither of us were hidden; it would have been impossible to hide. I did take a moment to wonder if Dr. Knox had taught in this room. It wouldn’t have surprised me, but I doubted it. Surely, his theater hadn’t survived the passing of time. And, fire took out so many things in those days. If it hadn’t become dilapidated, it might have burned.

  Or, this could be the very room Dr. Knox used.

  Dr. Eban didn’t notice us right off. Instead, he launched into an announcement about the service he’d given at the church.

  “Of course, the first-year students were required tae attend the service this morning, but I know that some of you had other obligations. Let’s please take a moment of silence for those who have helped us over the years.”

  Before the moment of silence was a full moment, a hand shot up on the other side of the large room.

  “Question?” Dr. Eban asked with one raised eyebrow.

  “Aye. Did ye honor our Mallory, Dr. Eban?”

  “Aye, we did.”

  “Guid.”

  The student’s tone drew everyone’s attention his direction. Like my friends, this man wasn’t of a traditional age. He wasn’t in his twenties or even his thirties. His salt-and-pepper short hair and beard were only the first things that aged him into at least his forties. He wore thick glasses and a wrinkled forehead very well, and his voice didn’t ring with youth. If there was such a thing as a traditional medical student, he wasn’t it.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” Dr. Eban said. “Are you new to this class?”

  “I’m just visiting today,” the man said. “I’m here for Mallory. The police willnae listen tae me, and I wanted tae make sure everyone knew who killed her.”

  “We’re listening,” Dr. Eban said.

  Sometimes in life there are collective moments when things seem to be going a certain direction, but you and others around you sense that the path is about to get diverted. I knew I wasn’t the only one in the room to sense that one of those diversions was about to take place. Elias and I shared a brief look that told me he did too. I was sure that, along with everyone else in the room, I knew what the man was going to say. Well, everyone with the possible exception of Dr. Eban. When that inkling came on me, and after looking at Elias, I turned my attention to Dr. Eban. I would always remember this moment and how he seemed genuinely surprised by the man’s answer. Either he was a very good actor or he hadn’t expected to be accused of murder.

  “You did, Dr. Eban,” the man said.

  A rumble filled the room.

  “That is not true,” Dr. Eban responded coolly. “And I don’t appreciate the accusation. Please leave our class.”

  The man st
ood but he didn’t leave. He looked around the room and then brought his arm slowly up to point at the doctor below.

  “This man is a killer. If you put your trust in him, he will ruin your career and then your life. When that’s not enough, he will kill you.”

  The rumble grew. I didn’t see a weapon on him, but a hum of violence filled the air along with his accusation. I watched as a few of the students stood to leave and Dr. Eban reached for his mobile.

  The man left his chair and began walking along the back wall toward the door.

  “Let’s follow him,” I said to Elias.

  “Aye,” he said with his own violent glimmer.

  “I don’t want to pick a fight, I just want to talk to him,” I said, hoping to diffuse Elias’s obvious anger.

  “We’ll see.”

  Elias led us out of the room. We were followed by a couple of students who’d felt the need to escape even after the man and his anger were gone. Dr. Eban didn’t try to stop anyone.

  I looked at the doctor before I went through the doorway, and his eyes caught mine briefly. He blinked in confusion, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see if he finally recognized me.

  “He went this way,” Elias said from halfway down the hallway.

  We set off at a quick jog.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Elias pushed through a door at the end of the hallway that led to a stairway. By the time I followed through he’d already traveled up one flight and was turning to go up another.

  “How do you know he went up here?” I called to him.

  “Only reasonable place. He’s hiding from security now.”

  Elias and I both took the stairs two at a time, but with his head start and determination, he easily beat me up the four flights.

  At the top, he pushed through another doorway. I reached it just before it closed. I held the door open and tried to catch my breath as I looked out to the roof.

  “Hey!” Elias said to the man, who had indeed gone where Elias thought he would. He stood a few feet back from the ledge and his chest rose and fell quickly with his breathing.

  “Who are you?” he said to Elias.

  It was at that moment that I knew I was dealing with two similar people. They were both toward the far end of middle age, both with minds and hearts that desired to set things right. The man who’d accused Dr. Eban thought he was doing the right thing, and Elias thought he was doing the right thing by chasing down this man who’d seemed dangerous to a roomful of people. Doing the right thing can get people in so much trouble sometimes.

  Hurriedly, I grabbed the rock that had been set outside the door and put it where it would keep it open.

  “Hi!” I said a bit too cheerily as I jogged toward them. I held up one hand toward the man and put my other one on Elias’s arm. “I knew Mallory. We just want to talk to you.”

  “How did you know Mallory?” he said as if he was certain he should know me too.

  “I got to know some of the medical students. I met her,” I said. I swallowed and looked back and forth between him and Elias. “I was with her the evening before she got killed. I work at the bookshop where … where it happened.”

  There was no sense of goodwill coming from the man as he took one step closer to the ledge. I really didn’t think he would jump, but that might have just been denial.

  “My name’s Delaney. This is my friend Elias. What’s your name?”

  “Why did you chase me up here?”

  “Why do you think Dr. Eban killed Mallory?”

  “Are you students?” he asked.

  “No, we were there to spy on Dr. Eban. Well, kind of spy. We wanted to see him work. Just curious about him.”

  “Do you suspect him too?”

  I shook my head. No need to add to this man’s suspicions. “Not until you accused him. Well, I just don’t know, but I’d really like to find out. Will you talk to us?”

  “I can’t leave the roof for a while. I’m sure security is looking for me.”

  Elias huffed. “They’ll look up here too.”

  “If you’d just close the door on your way back down, they might not think about it.”

  “It will lock. How will you get off the roof?” I asked.

  “I’ve got someone coming tae get me later.”

  Elias and I looked at each other. He squinted and then turned toward the door. I wasn’t sure what he did, but it included a piece of a receipt he pulled from his pocket and the gum he’d been chewing. A short few moments later, the door was shut, but Elias illustrated how it opened easily. It was a trick I hoped to learn some other day.

  While Elias had been working on the door, the man and I hadn’t moved from our spots. My breathing normalized, and I noticed that his chest wasn’t moving up and down as quickly either.

  “What’s yer name, man?” Elias said as he walked back to my side.

  “Conn Clatcher.”

  “You’re Conn?” I asked. Yes, he and Elias were similar, but I didn’t think Elias was as extreme as I’d heard Conn was. “Mallory’s uncle?”

  “Aye,” he said hesitantly.

  I sighed. “Can we sit down a minute, Conn? We can move over to the other side where we might not be seen if someone opens the door.”

  Though there wasn’t a lot of space on the roof, the HVAC unit gave us some cover as we moved over to the other side and sat on the ledge, legs inward. The view of the campus was too pretty not to notice, but it wasn’t the foremost thing on my mind as I peered over the side, relieved to find a subroof a few feet below. I suspected that Conn’s plan to escape had included hiding on it. Dangerous, but apparently worth it, in his mind at least. We sat in a line; me, Conn, and then Elias, who leaned more than sat, obviously tense and ready to intervene in whatever way might be required.

  “Does Boris know you’re here?” I asked.

  Conn shrugged. I took that as a negative. It wasn’t fair to peg Conn’s personality based solely upon what I’d heard about him, but I suspected that he was doing his brother’s dirty work, based solely upon Conn’s determination of what that dirty work should be. Though I hadn’t met Boris Clacher either, the covert operation was not something I would have thought someone in the medical school’s administration would approve of.

  “Why do you think Dr. Eban killed your niece?” I asked.

  “He’s a wicked sort of a man. Manipulative, cruel.”

  This sort of thing kept happening—people saying bad things about him. I thought he was a little odd, but not murderous. I’d seen Sophie and Rena hanging out with him at the church. I’d heard about his past affiliation with Dr. Glenn. Nothing seemed to jibe all the way. I needed much more information.

  “How was he cruel to Mallory?” I asked.

  “He had her do unsavory things for her grades.”

  I was pretty sure that’s what he was going to say. “What? Can you tell me specifically?”

  “Lass, they’re not things I would say tae a lady,” Conn said.

  “Pretend I’m not one,” I said impatiently. More than once I’d been told I’d approached something from an American point of view that just wasn’t the same thing in the Scottish world. Maybe I didn’t understand the culture.

  And sure enough, Elias huffed.

  Conn thought a moment as he scratched at his beard. “Things done in the bedroom.”

  Maybe I did understand. Still. “I mean this like I’ve never meant anything else before, Mr. Clacher. Tell me specifically the things that Mallory said. The specific things.”

  Again, he thought as he scratched at the beard and then rubbed under his nose.

  “She didn’t tell me specifics,” he finally said. “She didn’t tell her father specifics either. She just said he pushed her to do things.”

  “‘Do things.’ Those were her words? Did she ever say what that was? Or if it included specific sexual acts?”

  “No, lass!”

  “Then how do you know that’s what happened?”

  �
��Because she wouldn’t say! I think that’s clue enough. She wasn’t a liar, she was just modest.”

  Or she was a willing participant and didn’t want to look like one. However, there was a certain general truth to what he was saying. Mallory was in her late twenties at least, but some people of any age would be embarrassed to talk about such things, maybe more so in Scotland. My parents were ultraconservative farm folks. If someone had taken advantage of me in such a way, would I have told them the specifics?

  It was hard to know for sure. It was impossible to know what went on in someone else’s life.

  “She would have told someone what happened. If not the police—and I can see why that would scare her—a friend, or a relative,” I said as I thought through what I would do. “Who was her closest female relative, or perhaps a good friend?”

  “Her mother, I suppose, but her mother knows as much as Boris and I do.”

  “A friend?”

  “I don’t know her friends.”

  “Has Boris told the police these things?” I said. “Why are you here instead of talking to the police?”

  “We did go tae the police. They weren’t interested in our interpretations either. But Boris knows his daughter. He understood what she’d tried to communicate to him.”

  “He did. Are you sure?” I said.

  “Aye,” Conn said hesitantly.

  “Conn, if I promise not to do anything to contribute to your being arrested for anything, will you tell me the truth? Does Boris feel the same way you do about this?”

  Conn looked at me a long time. “Lass, how would I really know? He’s devastated, that’s what I know. He brought up Mallory’s … issues tae me not too long ago. I know my brother. I’m sure he feels the same way.”

  “But he didn’t come out and say that to you?”

  Conn didn’t answer.

  “What did ye think ye would accomplish in that classroom?” Elias asked, his anger still evident.

  “I wanted tae rattle him.”

  “Ye rattled everyone. Did ye not think of that? Ye were a nuisance and ye scared people, innocent people. Ye disrupted important learning!”