“That was it. Well, it was just half of one. I did overhear the pathologist confirm that it didn’t belong to someone who’d died recently, but you should confirm that before you print it. I didn’t hear an exact age, or even a real guess at one.”
“I will. Thanks.” With a blue-ink pen, she wrote the word “jawbone” on the palm of her hand.
“You don’t have a notebook?”
“I do. Sometimes I just write on my hand or arm, though.”
“Huh.”
She shrugged and said, “I heard there was a bone found outside the building where the murder victim, Mallory, lived.”
“You mean just now, recently?”
“Yes, but no, now I think it was a mistake. I think it was supposed to mean this bone. The message got muddled, and nothing was going on over there. Do you know people who live in her building?”
“Some. Acquaintances.”
“That’s not exactly what I heard, but that’s okay.”
“You continue to try to find ways for me to be involved in this. I guess I am friends with a couple of the women, but we’ve only known each other a few months. ‘Acquaintances’ seems like a more accurate description of our relationship.”
“If it’s any consolation,” she said a second later, “I don’t think you’re a killer. But I do think that like me, though for different reasons, you are looking for the killer. I also bet you will have known the killer when they’re exposed. There’s something wonky about that building and the medical school. I think you’re more exposed to what’s going on than you’re telling me.”
“Bridget.”
“Okay, okay, let me rephrase. I think you’re more exposed than you even realize. If you’re friends with them, I bet you’ve seen things that you haven’t put together yet.”
“I don’t know,” I said as I thought about the gray-haired man. I wasn’t going to tell her about him. She and I would never be that good of friends.
My motives for talking to her and being more forthcoming were twofold. I wanted her to let up on Edwin and keep him out of any of her future stories, and I’d thought about asking her to explore old newspaper articles with me. But I changed my mind as I talked to her. No matter that we weren’t going to forge a friendship, she would always be writing a story, and I didn’t want to unknowingly contribute something that might hurt someone I cared about—or myself, frankly. I’d given her enough.
“All right, I’ll talk tae the officers. Ring me if you’ve anything else tae share. Thank you for the information about the bone. And, if I were you, I’d watch my back, Delaney.”
She sent me some lifted eyebrows and then turned and walked toward Inspector Pierce. She tapped his shoulder, and he looked at her with nothing but irritation.
She hadn’t scared me by telling me to watch my back, but she had a point.
It was impossible to ignore how many strange and horrible things seemed to be happening so close to home.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Interesting perspective,” Tom said as he handed Elias a cup of coffee. It had to be his first of the morning, since I’d asked him to give me a ride so early. “She might be right, but I don’t think you should let that scare you.”
“No, lass, she’s oot for a story. Ye cannae let her scare ye,” Elias said as he rested his arms on the bar. “But ye should be careful. Aye an on.”
I looked at him. I didn’t know what “aye an on” meant.
“Always,” Elias translated. He’d come with me this morning, driving me back to Grassmarket. I hadn’t seen Tom in person for too long, and morning coffee at his pub seemed to be the only currently available option. When he heard Elias was driving me, he invited him for coffee too. I’d waited until we were all together to tell them both everything I’d found out and discovered. They’d shown some interest, and some great restraint, as I shared my foray into Dr. Eban’s email and the fact that Sophie and Rena thought Mallory was having an affair with Dr. Glenn. Not only had their eyes shown unbelievable a time or two, they’d said it a few times. I’d saved Bridget’s words of warnings for last.
“Of course—and I’m not worried.” I looked back and forth between them.
Telling them what Bridget had said might have been a bad idea, because it had gotten them thinking about my safety. But I really wasn’t worried. I did think her more important point though was about the killer being someone I’d met.
I continued, “No, I’m not worried. I just want to figure it out.”
“Aye,” they both said, but I caught the quickly raised eyebrows they shared with each other. They would rather I didn’t continue to search for an answer to Mallory’s murder, but I appreciated them keeping their protests limited to their eyebrows.
“I don’t think Rena is telling the truth—to anyone—about what happened the night Mallory was killed,” I said. “It doesn’t matter what she’s told me, and even if she and Sophie told the police about Dr. Glenn and Mallory, I would still like to know what Rena was up to, and what that email meant. As Inspector Pierce was leaving the shop yesterday, I asked if he talked to Sophie and Rena. He said he did, so I asked if he believed the story about Mallory and Dr. Glenn. He gave me no indication either way.”
“It’s convenient to try to pin a murder on an already proven killer, one who might or might not have gray hair and be in the vicinity,” Tom said.
“Do you think Rena kil’t Mallory?” Elias asked.
“I hope not,” I said. “No idea, but what deal did she and Dr. Eban have … and a planned meeting that night? Strange.”
“And you havenae told the police about the email?” Elias said. “Och, of course, ye havenae.”
“I should not have read it, and I really shouldn’t have gotten Joshua involved.”
Tom smiled, surprising me. “No harm done, and that kid deserves a little fun. He’s worked hard for a long time.”
I smiled at him, grateful my pub owner wasn’t bothered by that bad decision.
He continued, “I don’t know either Sophie or Rena well, but they seem like sweet women, though they’ve had some tough times. Which one had a rough home life when they were a child?”
“Rena. Moved around a lot before her family landed in Glasgow,” I said. “She and Sophie met when they were young and became fast and, I believe, lifelong friends.”
“You ‘believe’?” Tom said.
“Too soon to tell.”
“Aye.” Tom’s smile turned wry.
I did a double take, not understanding how to interpret the expression. He looked away before I could ask.
“Do you think Dr. Eban saw the wee scalpels in the warehouse somehow?” Elias asked.
“I would have no idea how.”
“It’s been a decade. Maybe Edwin let people in and he just doesnae remember,” Elias said.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
My phone buzzed from atop the bar.
“Edwin?” I said as I answered.
“Lass, where are you?”
“At Tom’s pub.”
“Birk rang me in a full-on panic. He said you’ve not returned his call and he needs tae see us right away. May I pick you up in front of the bookshop in about fifteen minutes?”
“Oh shoot,” I said. “He’s right. I haven’t returned the call. What’s going on?”
“He’s acquired something he wants us tae see. He heard about the jawbone and now he really wants us tae see what he has.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Be in front of the bookshop in fifteen if you can.”
“I can.” I ended the call. “Edwin’s picking me up at the bookshop. I’m sorry.” I looked at Tom, hoping to relay with my eyes that we needed some time with just us soon. He relayed that he agreed.
“I shall escort ye tae the shop,” Elias said.
Sometimes Elias stopped by the pub and visited Tom without me. I wondered what they talked about. Aggie thought it was probably football and whisky.
Wi
th a brisk pace, the walk to the shop would take about two minutes. Since we weren’t in any hurry, Elias and I took it slow, and talked about football and whisky. I’d come to like football, but still couldn’t acquire a taste for whisky. I thought this was a big disappointment in my landlord’s eyes, but he pretended it was no big deal.
Edwin’s Citroën was there when he said it would be, and I told Elias I’d see him later.
“What do you think it is?” I asked Edwin as I belted in.
“We’ll see,” he said as he steered the car deftly and with too much speed to Birk’s house.
*
I knew the way to Birk’s house, though I’d only been there once before. I liked Birk, and had come to know him better when I’d helped him validate a letter he had from the real Rob Roy MacGregor. Before we’d worked together one-on-one, I’d thought he was somewhat phony. But I’d come to realize that Birk was a different person when Edwin was around. He’d make his personality bigger, which was something I didn’t understand, but I’d become fairly certain that he didn’t even know he was doing it.
His neighborhood was filled with big houses and big yards and gardens. A long, curving driveway led up to Birk’s place, and to surprisingly welcoming, but ostentatious, gold double doors.
Edwin and I didn’t have to knock; Birk opened with a flourish. “Thanks for coming so quickly. Come in, come in. I didn’t know if I should call the police today. I didn’t want tae earlier, until I talked tae Delaney, but you didn’t call.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Anyway, after I heard on the telly about the jawbone, well … I wondered.”
Edwin and I shared a look.
The last time I’d been to his house, Birk had been in a robe. Today, he was dressed as if he was heading out for a golf game: green golf shirt, with pink and green plaid pants.
“I didn’t know what I was buying exactly,” he said as he turned and started walking toward his golden sitting room.
“Here. Look in here.” He pointed to a large box that was propped on a coffee table.
Edwin and I hesitated, but only for a moment. We each moved to one side of the box and peered in.
A skull peered up at us.
“Oh boy,” I said.
“Dastardly-looking thing,” Edwin said.
“But there’s so much more,” Birk said.
We looked at him.
He bit his lip a good long moment, but then continued, “To begin with, I acquired it from someone who said it was a lost victim of Burke and Hare.”
“No!” I said. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Too much of a coincidence? I don’t understand,” Birk said.
“Burke and Hare have come up a lot lately. Something’s going on.”
“Well,” Birk waved away anything that might not have anything to do with his current problem.
“Birk and Burke,” I muttered.
“I do think the name thing is a true coincidence,” Birk said. “But, yes, something is definitely going on. I thought it was a joke—a box of bones from ‘Burke and Hare days,’” Birk said, laughing once nervously as he made quote marks in the air with his fingers. “I was contacted, and I was curious enough tae make the purchase. Then I received this box. The skull made it much less a joke and much more real. I wanted Delaney tae see it tae tell me if it was from someone recently deceased. I should have called the police.”
“I don’t know how to assess the age of bones,” I said. I left out the part about yes, he should have called the police, but he should have.
The angle at which it sat made it so we couldn’t see the entire skull. I tipped up one side of the box so the skull plunked over and we could get a full side view.
“Missing a part of a jawbone,” I said to Edwin. Though he hadn’t seen the item at the bookshop the day before, he’d heard all about it.
“A match to yours, you think? I saw the report on the telly,” Birk said.
“I do,” I said.
“What’s going on?” Birk asked.
“We need to call the police,” I said.
“Oh, how terribly disappointing,” Birk said. “So, do you know what this is? Is it really from a Burke and Hare victim?”
“Not sure of that, but…” I began. “Who contacted you?”
Birk looked momentarily ashamed. “An email.”
I knew by now that emails and Internet communication for the types of items Edwin and Birk acquired was risky at best, criminal at worst. If you didn’t know who you were dealing with, in-person meetings were necessary.
“Birk,” Edwin admonished.
“I know.” Birk waved it away. He sighed dramatically and then sat on a couch. He rubbed his hand over his chin, where there was no sign of a beard. “And they haven’t responded tae my most recent emails. They told me they mailed the box last week, and I’ve been asking for a tracking number ever since. No answer. This arrived a few days ago. I called Delaney, and then I heard about the bone at the bookshop.”
“I don’t understand.” Edwin moved around the table and sat on the other end of the couch. “That doesn’t sound like something you would do.”
“I bought this after we were talking in the bookshop. Remember our conversation about Burke and Hare?”
Edwin blinked. “Oh. Aye.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Two weeks ago now,” Birk said. “You weren’t there.”
“Birk and I were at the back table and a customer asked if we had any books on the killers,” Edwin said.
“Man, woman, old, young?” I said.
“Woman,” Edwin said.
“Hair, height, description?”
“Hair pulled back. Trim, attractive.” Edwin blinked. “Am I allowed tae say ‘attractive’ still or does that break a rule?”
I nodded that it was all right.
“Not Sophie or Rena,” I said to Edwin. “You remember them?”
“Aye. Not them.”
“Curly or straight hair?” I asked.
“Straight, pulled back like Edwin said,” Birk said. “Why?”
“Any chance you mentioned the scalpels?”
“I didn’t know about them,” Edwin said.
“What scalpels?” Birk asked.
“How long after the conversation in the bookshop did you get the email?” I asked Birk.
“The next day.”
I thought for a long, almost desperate moment. Was I onto something? If I was, it was a foggy something.
“We need to take this skull to the police,” I said. “But we’re going to make one stop along the way.”
It took us a few minutes too long to get out of the house because no one could figure out who should carry the box. Ultimately, we chose Birk. Edwin steered the Citroën back toward downtown. I sat in the backseat and tried to figure out if the person who’d come into the bookshop could have been Lola, and how that might lead us to a killer.
*
“Oh my goodness,” Joshua said. “You really think this had something to do with Burke and Hare?”
“I don’t have any idea, but I was thinking about the skull room at the university. Have you received any notices, heard anything new, regarding skulls missing from there?”
“None,” Joshua said. He turned to his computer and typed. “No, nothing new at all. Do you think I should inquire? Maybe someone just hasn’t noticed? I can say I heard about the jawbone that was mentioned in the news. I’ll leave this skull out of it for now.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“All right. I’ll send an inquiry right away. If there are skulls missing from the skull room, I’ll be a hero,” he said.
I couldn’t help but hope that skulls were missing from the skull room.
“What about the people who have access to the skull room?” I said. “There’s a limited amount, right? Artair has a key. Is there a record of who has the keys somewhere?”
“I don’t know how it works. I’ll
see if I can find out from the director of my museum. She knows how the university does things,” Joshua said. He pulled out his phone and sent a text but didn’t receive an immediate response. “She’ll respond when she can, or wants to, I suppose. She’s on holiday, so I don’t know.”
“I’m sure the skull room isn’t the only place for skulls,” Edwin said. “It’s a medical school. There might be more skulls there than we could conceive of.”
I remembered the memorial service. I had no idea how many corpses and skulls and skeletons were nearby, but I was sure there were more than I wanted to dwell on.
“Joshua, do you know anything about a missing Burke and Hare body?” I asked.
“You mean a victim whose body was stolen or not found? No, nothing. But who’s to say? Things were so different back then. Not everyone was accounted for like now. There’s a good chance that not all of the victims were found, but the research to confirm that would be daunting, maybe impossible.” He thought a moment. “You do know that Burke’s skeleton is kept under lock and key at the university, don’t you?”
Birk and Edwin nodded, and I said, “You did tell me that, but you don’t know where?”
“It’s a well-kept secret, but … no, it can’t be that,” he said as he looked at the box.
“Joshua, what?”
“No one knows what happened to Hare after he was released, or his body, at least historically. See what I mean? Less accountability.”
We all looked at the box and then at each other.
“No,” Birk said. “That would be impossible.”
“That would be something,” Edwin said.
“I can’t think…” Joshua said.
“But it’s possible, right? I mean, we don’t know for sure,” I said. “Would there be a way to determine if this is William Hare’s skull?”
“DNA, I don’t know. Perhaps,” Joshua said. “Depends on any artifacts and any DNA left on them.”
The notion that there was even a slight chance that we had most of the skull of the killer William Hare was almost too much to grasp. But as exciting and historically significant as this idea was, my hopes for finding Mallory’s killer deflated because of it. How could the two of these mysteries be part of the same thing? But how could they not be? How could all of this be happening at once and not be tied together?
Lost Books and Old Bones Page 20