Lost Books and Old Bones

by Paige Shelton

  Before long, we were both boarding a bus for Inspector Pierce’s office.

  The blue windows were no less intimidating than they were the first time. For me. For Bridget, they were just an obstacle she was challenged to take down, even if she had to break them. She pounded and yelled, “Help, police!” as if we were in danger. I was stunned, but I knew I shouldn’t have been.

  When Inspector Pierce (and I was glad it was him) opened the door and saw who was on the other side, I winced a smile and let Bridget speak.

  “We’ve got something that might be important in the murder of Mallory Clacher,” she said.

  “By all means then, come in.” He held the door wide. “Hello again, Delaney.”

  Like the first time I’d been there, he was the only officer in the place. The addition of Bridget made it feel much more crowded as we all took a seat around a desk. I wanted to ask him if they’d found Dr. Glenn or if there was anything new in the case, but I wouldn’t with Bridget in the room.

  “What do you need to tell me?” he asked, forcing an even tone to his voice.

  “These.” Bridget held out her hand and I gathered the plaster piece from my bag. “These might lead to a killer. I showed you mine before, but now we’ve brought two.” We placed them on the desk in front of him.

  Though Bridget’s style was off-putting, Inspector Pierce was interested to hear what we had to say. He definitely wasn’t happy we hadn’t been more careful about fingerprints (lesson learned) but he was glad we’d come to see him. While we were there, via his radio, he dispatched officers to the close and the library. He told the one going to the library that finding and talking to Artair Fletcher was a priority. I wished for a way to warn Artair, but there wasn’t one.

  “You can’t write about this now. You’re part of the story,” Inspector Pierce said to Bridget. I thought he was just hoping to trip her up.

  She didn’t miss a beat. “That’s correct, but once it’s solved, I’m going to have the best story in town.”

  She seemed content and Inspector Pierce didn’t have a comeback for her, which was probably the main reason she was content.

  It was a quick meeting, and as he showed us the door he said, “Be careful, please. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Don’t plan to,” I said.

  “You either, Lois Lane,” he said to Bridget.

  “Did you just make a joke?” I said before I could stop myself.

  He didn’t answer, but shut the blue door and turned the dead bolt.

  “I think he did try a joke,” Bridget said. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “It’s only one in the afternoon,” I said.

  “Right. I’ll buy you lunch, but you can’t look at it as a bribe. You do eat, don’t you?”

  “All the time,” I said.

  “Haggis is on me,” she said as she signaled me to follow her.

  “Uh,” I said. If she made me eat haggis, she and I would never get past our issues.

  I’d just order something else. Hopefully.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Wait here,” Bridget said.

  The small take-out shop was crowded and it wasn’t too cold outside, so I didn’t mind waiting. I hoped she didn’t think I’d truly eat haggis, but she didn’t ask what I wanted.

  A few minutes later she exited, balancing two large coffees and two paper-wrapped pastries.

  “I was kidding about the haggis,” she said as she gave me a coffee and pastry.

  It felt like a peace offering.

  All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust, said Peter Pan in my mind.

  The bookish voice came out of the blue. Quickly and covertly I scanned the area, but didn’t see a bookshop nearby.

  Peter must have thought it pretty important for me to get the message. Or maybe that was Tinker Bell.

  “Thank you,” I said. As I sipped the coffee, my eyes got big at the sight of the cherry pastry.

  “You like pastries? Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I like them very much,” I said. It seemed like it would be rude to pay her back for food and drink, so I just thanked her again.

  “This way, I want to show you something,” she said as she led the way while we ate the pastries that didn’t need much chewing because mine melted the second it came in contact with my tongue. I looked behind as we traveled. I needed to memorize the location of the takeaway shop.

  We were on the back side of the Edinburgh Castle, at the bottom of the volcanic cliff that the castle had sat comfortably upon for centuries. The buildings became less adorable as we continued, transforming into more modernish architecture.

  “See that place?” she said after she’d licked her fingers. “That’s the Argyle House.”

  “It’s an apartment building. Flats, I mean,” I said.

  The building was huge; even if it hadn’t been in Edinburgh, where buildings weren’t as big as American buildings, it would have been considered huge. From our angle, it seemed to have two wings, but they weren’t at typical angles from each other.

  “No, it’s business offices,” Bridget said. “It’s contemporary inside and out. As you can see, it’s in between much of the new and the old in Edinburgh.”

  I looked around as I swallowed my last bite of pastry. “And the castle above.”

  “Aye.”

  “Why are you showing it to me?”

  “This is the West Port area. This large building sits in the spot where the boardinghouse that Burke and Hare met at was located. I’m sure you’ve been hearing about them a lot lately if you’ve heard about Dr. Eban.” She looked at me expectantly.

  I didn’t answer in the way she’d hoped. “Oh, that is interesting.” I let my imagination try to superimpose the old over the new. “It was a crowded place back then.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  We were both silent a moment as we pondered. I liked it when even the locals enjoyed the history of their city.

  “Your bookshop has prints too, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I bet you have a print somewhere of Log’s Lodgings. That was the name of the place. They were both Irish immigrants, Burke and Hare,” she continued. “They came to Edinburgh to work on the Union Canal. Burke moved here with his partner, Helen McDougal. The boardinghouse was owned by Margaret Laird and William Hare, who lived together; it was named after Margaret’s dead first husband. In 1827, a lodger, Donald, died of natural causes and he owed money on his boardinghouse bill. It seemed only right to Burke and Hare that they sell Donald’s body to Robert Knox for the past amount due. Apparently, murder seemed like the logical next step, or at least the most profitable one.”

  I’d heard some of this from Joshua, but I didn’t mind hearing it again. She spoke about history the way I did, as if we could see the pictures and smell the odors as we said the words.

  I wasn’t going to interrupt, but something occurred to me. “Wait, you said this is West Port?”

  “Aye, that’s this district.”

  “Hang on a second.” I pulled out my phone and hit the call button. “Rosie, where did you live in West Port? Where did Dr. Glenn live?”

  Using the pen Bridget handed me as she took my coffee cup, I wrote the addresses on the inside of my wrist before I thanked Rosie and hung up.

  “Can we find these places?” I said as I showed her my wrist.

  “Easily. They’re just this way.”

  Less than a minute later, we’d turned another corner that took us back to the older Edinburgh. Above the businesses that included other takeaway spots, souvenir shops, and the like, we pinpointed Rosie’s and Dr. Glenn’s old flats.

  We looked up, neither of us needing to knock on doors.

  “Rosie’s was smaller, but right next door. Dr. Glenn’s was larger and nicer, if the outsides of the buildings are any indication.”

  “I don’t understand why we’re looking at these,” Bridget said.

  “Rosie, my
coworker, lived next door to Dr. Glenn, and I was curious where they lived.” I didn’t know exactly what Peter or Tink had been trying to tell me earlier, but coffee and the best pastry in the universe weren’t quite enough to make me trust Bridget all the way. Almost, but not quite.

  “Oh. Interesting. Did she know his family?”

  “Not well.”

  “No good information then?”

  “No.”

  “Shame.” We gave Dr. Glenn’s old flat a long look. “You know, I felt most sorry for his daughter. Poor girl. I wonder what happened to her. I can’t believe I haven’t researched that. I’ll have to.”

  “How?”

  “Connections.” She looked at me. “Can’t divulge my sources, but I do have lots of connections. Some in the government. I might be able tae get into the foster care records. Make some calls.”

  “Can you do that research from The Cracked Spine?” I asked.

  “I’d rather do it at my office.”

  “What if I could try to get that interview with Edwin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No promises, but I’d try. For real this time.”

  “All right.”

  The trip back to the shop was a matter of getting around the volcanic crag that was holding up the castle. We hurried; we ran and dodged, looking like tourists late for a plane. I was the one who set the pace. A sense of urgency had come over me, but Bridget kept up without complaint.

  We burst into the shop, finding Rosie with Hector tucked under her arm at the front desk. Edwin and Hamlet stood at the top of the stairs on the small balcony with a customer. We’d interrupted their conversation.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry.”

  Hector barked once.

  “Everything okay?” Edwin asked from above.

  “Yes. We’ll go to the back,” I said.

  Edwin eyed the reporter before he and Hamlet turned back to the customer and guided him toward the books on the shelves against the wall.

  Bridget, Rosie, and I made our way to the back table.

  “This place is amazing,” Bridget said in a loud whisper. “I think I would just sit here and smell the books and look around all day.”

  I smiled briefly at her, but I had more important things to do.

  “Rosie,” I said, “Bridget is going to see if she can find any information about Dr. Glenn’s daughter. Is it okay for her to sit back here?”

  “Aye,” she said doubtfully.

  “I’d rather someplace more private,” Bridget said.

  “We really don’t have anyplace more private,” I said. “This corner is quiet. The sound doesn’t travel.”

  Rosie blinked at me, but she went along. “Aye.”

  I wasn’t going to ever let Bridget cross over to the dark side. That was asking for trouble, even if I didn’t take her all the way to the warehouse door.

  “Well, all right. Pen and paper I could borrow?” Bridget asked.

  I’d never known a reporter who didn’t have them at the ready all the time, but I gathered the supplies from a shelf and then Bridget started making phone calls.

  I stepped back to the front desk with Rosie and Hector.

  “What’s going on, lass?” she whispered.

  “I need to know what happened to Lily,” I said. “A picture, if we’re that lucky.”

  “Why?”

  “I think either Sophie or Rena is Lily. Most likely Rena, considering the way she talks about her childhood. I think that one or both of them have lied about their age, maybe to keep Rena—Lily—protected. I think Rena moved to Glasgow at the same age Lily’s world fell apart. The phone number for her father that she listed on the provenance of the books isn’t connected. It’s just … well, mostly it’s a gut instinct.”

  “Awright,” Rosie said. She glanced back to the corner and then back at me. “Should I be friendly tae her? Grab some biscuits?”

  I smiled. “It’s okay to be friendly, but don’t worry about the refreshments.” I looked up at the balcony. “I did tell her I would try to get her an interview with Edwin, and this time I meant it. If you get a chance to let him know, that would help.”

  “I can do that,” she said. Hector panted supportively.

  “Delaney,” Bridget said.

  I moved back to the table.

  “I put a call into someone in Glasgow, but she hasn’t called me back. My colleague at the paper sent me an old picture, though. We never printed it, but it’s in the files. He’s looking for others.” She held her phone toward me. “This is Lily.”

  The picture was a profile view of a young girl, barely beginning to look like a teenager. A scarf covered her hair.

  “That doesn’t tell me much,” I said.

  “I know. I think that’s why we kept the picture. If we ever wanted tae print a picture, this would still keep her identity pretty well hidden.”

  Rosie and Hector joined us. I held the phone toward Rosie.

  “You know what Sophie and Rena look like. Is there any chance at all that one of them is Dr. Glenn’s Lily?”

  “Lass, that picture doesnae tell me much at all,” Rosie said.

  “Anything else?” I said to Bridget.

  “I’m waiting right now,” she said. “Why is this so important? Sophie and Rena are two women in Mallory’s building, right?”

  I nodded but didn’t expound. I saw her eyes light up though. This could definitely be a big story.

  I said, “I think if Lily was in town, it would be more likely that Dr. Glenn truly had resurfaced, and Lily could help the police find him. No matter what, he’s a killer on the loose.”

  “And you think you might know someone who used tae be Lily?” Bridget asked.

  “I’m not sure, but it feels like a good guess.”

  “Sophie or Rena?”

  Bridget’s phone rang as I avoided the direct question. I glanced at the number before I handed the phone back to her. I didn’t recognize the caller.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  Rosie, Hector, and I observed her on the call, even after she sent us a look that said she’d rather we wouldn’t. It was a quick call.

  “I just got sent another picture.” She scrolled on her phone and then held it out to me.

  This one was of Lily and Dr. Glenn. She was younger than in the first one, but there was more of her to see, even in black-and-white. She was adorable, with a long brown ponytail, a button nose, and big eyes I was sure were blue. The hat on her father’s head convinced me even more. His head was turned slightly to the left, as if he had a crook in his neck like Rosie had mentioned. But it was the hat combined with the partial profile that made it all become clear.

  It had been on Saturday that I’d seen Lola on campus, allegedly meeting people to work on a group project. She’d met a man outside a building and they’d hurried inside. He’d worn a knit cap and had a profile almost identical to that of the man in the picture. I hadn’t registered that he’d seemed older because I hadn’t looked that closely, but now I wondered if he wore the hat to cover gray hair. As I thought some more, I wondered if I’d noticed a strange angle to the man’s neck. Had it been a little crooked?

  It made so much sense. Lily couldn’t handle medical school, just as her father hadn’t been able to. He’d faked it, and she was just doing whatever she could to be around it.

  “Oh dear,” I said.

  “What?” Rosie and Bridget said.

  “Let’s call the police,” I said. “I know who Lily is, and I’m sure Dr. Glenn has returned.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Inspector Pierce, I know I’ve been … This is Delaney. Call me as soon as you are available. I think Dr. Glenn has definitely resurfaced, and I think a woman named Lola who lives in the same building Mallory did is actually Lily, Dr. Glenn’s daughter.”

  I hesitated before I ended the call. Bridget, Rosie, and Hector watched me with wide approving eyes, but it certainly felt strange to say such things, particularly in a message for
m. I looked at the picture on Bridget’s phone again. Yes, I was sure. I hung up.

  I’d been about to call Inspector Winters when Tom and Gaylord walked into the shop.

  “Delaney, you’ve been talking tae the police,” Gaylord said.

  I didn’t point out that technically he probably couldn’t represent me anyway.

  “Actually, I just left a message for Inspector Pierce,” I said.

  “Delaney.”

  I shook my head. “None of that matters now. Come on, let us show you what we’ve got.”

  Tom and Gaylord joined Bridget and me at the back table. Rosie and Hector watched the front of the store, and I happened to catch Edwin and Hamlet leaving through the front door with the customer. Edwin was doing everything he could to get away from Bridget. I’d get them together later. Besides, she knew her story was already big without him.

  I told everybody everything. I didn’t leave out one thing I knew. Bridget took notes on paper, not on her hands or her arms. I was sure she was having visions of Pulitzer.

  Gaylord, his mouth slightly agape, shook his head. “My goodness.”

  “I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it?” I said.

  Tom jumped in, “Aye, but I’m still curious about the books and why the phone number Rena gave you is disconnected, as well as the email you read.”

  “Me too, but at least I know she’s not Lily. Well, I’m almost certain. I think there’s so much more to what’s been going on with Sophie, Rena, Mallory, Lola, and all the doctors. The important thing is to find Mallory’s killer. Dr. Glenn has resurfaced, I’m almost one hundred percent certain. He must have killed Mallory.”

  “Because she didn’t want tae live with his daughter?” Bridget said, seemingly thinking out loud. “No, that wasn’t it. He’s just a killer. He had access.”

  “But why outside the bookshop?” Gaylord asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Mallory just came exploring based upon Dr. Eban’s question about the scalpel, and he followed her. The dark close would be an appealing place to commit murder if you had murder on your mind,” I said.