“Sure,” he said. “Why?”
“Chances are it’s a false alarm, but we can’t find him. He isn’t where we thought he would be and he isn’t answering his phone. It could be nothing.”
“I understand why that’s worrisome.” Tom’s eyebrows came together, and when one of the plaid vests asked him over he waved them away.
“Yes, he said he was going to perform in a play in the park this morning, but he wasn’t there. He didn’t tell anyone where else he might go. He’s not in his dorm room either. You mentioned that you knew everyone at The Cracked Spine, and you’re closer in age to him. I guess I just wondered if he’s said anything strange or surprising to you lately.”
“No. Last time I talked tae him I told him again how sorry I was about Jenny. I asked how everyone was holding up. He told me that it was understandably rough, but that he and they were getting through.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I didn’t ask much. Honestly, I felt like I was asking too many questions about something that wasn’t my business. I just said that I was glad tae hear that everyone was doing as well as could be expected. What can I do tae help?”
“Nothing. He’ll turn up soon. I’m sure we’re all worried for nothing.”
“Tom Fletcher, she’s a beautiful lass and all, but my glass needs filled,” called the thirsty customer.
“Go, we can talk later,” I said. “Thank you for the flowers.”
“Late notice, but how about dinner tonight? At a restaurant not next to my work. I’ve got the pub covered.”
“I, uh. I should play harder to get, but, currently, I have no plans for dinner, so I accept.”
“I’ll pick you up around seven at your place?”
“I’ll be ready.”
I looked back at the bar one more time before I went out through the door. Not only was Tom looking my direction, but the plaid-vest customers were too. Their smiles and waves were also identical and I realized they were twins, from the front too. I was embarrassed by the attention, but I smiled and waved and felt my cheeks burn warmly.
My head was swimming by the time I got back to the shop. The overriding concern was for Hamlet, but I also sensed that clues as to who had killed Jenny were right in front of me. I knew about the Folio, I’d talked to Monroe, I’d gained some insight into Edwin and his family, also into Hamlet’s past. I hadn’t talked to Genevieve beyond the time at the auction, and I wondered if maybe that’s where Edwin had gone. If so, why? Were they romantically involved or just friends, and did their relationship have anything to do with Jenny’s murder?
Was I not putting everything together correctly? How could I move things around and find some answers?
Regg was gone by the time I returned. Rosie explained that when she’d gone to hospital to visit him, they’d become fast friends.
“Did you talk to the police about him?”
“I never did,” Rosie said. “I just went tae see him. I had tae sneak around the hospital tae find him.” I pictured her tiptoeing around the admittance desk and searching each room, Hector disguised as a scarf over her arm. “He told me that the accident was his fault, that he was glad no one else got hurt, and that he was going tae heal just fine.”
“And you two just hit it off?” I said.
“I think so. It appears that way,” Rosie said sadly.
“You’re not happy?”
“I’m more worried about Hamlet than I am happy about my romantic life.”
I made my first executive decision of my new job and told her that she and Hector should go home. It was my turn to handle whatever happened at the shop. I told her I would call her with any news. She resisted, but only for a second or two.
When she was gone I didn’t go back to the warehouse like I’d hoped to do. I didn’t want to leave the front of the store unattended and I knew that if I went to the warehouse, I’d dig in to something that would take all of my attention. I tried to get the books to talk to me, but to no avail. Maybe my head was just too full of real-life drama to let them in. Eventually I found myself in the back corner, sitting at the table and looking at some of the prints Hamlet had left out of the file drawers.
As I scooted my chair in closer to the table, my knuckles hit the short, wide drawer underneath the tabletop.
I wasn’t conscious of the fact that when I pulled the drawer open, I was opening a space where Hamlet kept his work things, but that’s exactly what it was.
Inside were pens, pencils, a pad of Post-its, and a small notebook, similar to the other desk’s items. But there was something else too, and when I saw it I ignored everything else. A small piece of purple paper was up against the edge of the drawer, directly behind the scooped-out portion that held the pens and pencils.
I reached for the purple paper, but then pulled my hand back. There were reasons I shouldn’t touch it, but the reasons were all based upon my own secret—the puzzle on my kitchen table. I decided I didn’t care.
I reached into the drawer again. Once I had the paper in one hand, I unintentionally slammed the drawer closed with my other hand, the noise echoing and startling me.
“Toughen up, Delaney,” I said to myself.
The paper was a folded half circle. Carefully, I unfolded it. The handwriting was the same as the pieces on my table. The paper was the same, except that it was one big piece, not a bunch of torn pieces. It said:
I’m
were too
sell it. I w
in my matt
ve leave now.
ut tell him I’m so
It was the middle piece that the others would go around. It would have been impossible to ever finish the puzzle without this piece, and mostly impossible to know it was missing.
But I could guess its meaning. Either she sold the Folio or she didn’t. Perhaps she put it in her mattress—the “matt” could have been the first part of the word. Was that possible, or was I just trying to make something of nothing?
But if she’d put it in her mattress, surely the police would have found it. Surely Edwin looked there.
It was barely 2:00, but I was about to make the second executive decision of my new job. I was going to close the shop and go home. I wasn’t even going to call Edwin or Rosie to ask them if it was okay. I thought it would be fine, but I didn’t want to know if it wasn’t. I couldn’t wait another moment.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Elias and Aggie stood behind me and looked over my shoulders as I placed the final piece of the puzzle into place.
“Och, well, there it is,” Aggie said as she pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Now it makes much more sense. I just couldnae make it work without that big piece, but look, here’s how it must go.”
“‘Tell Edwin I’m sorry. The demons were too much. I didn’t sell it. I won’t now. I hid it in my mattress. I have to leave now. Tell him I’m sorry,’” I read.
“She hid something in her mattress?” Elias said as he pulled a chair from the other side of the table, moved it next to me, and sat down too.
“I think so. It was something she was holding for Edwin, something valuable. I suspect that Hamlet grabbed the note, but only got this piece. I don’t know why he kept it. I don’t know why she tore up the other pieces. I don’t know why he didn’t tell Edwin. Maybe he did. I can’t be sure. Jenny and Hamlet must have argued. That might have been the yelling, but Hamlet was adamant they didn’t yell.”
Aggie put her hand over mine. To her, I was probably rambling, but she got the gist. “Desperate people do desperate things.”
“Ye found the other papers in some drawers at Jenny’s, right?” Elias said.
“I did.”
“It sounds like she was set to betray her brother’s trust but changed her mind,” Aggie said as she pursed her lips.
“Well, that certainly seems to be what’s going on here,” I said. “And it’s somehow what got her killed.”
What was I supposed to do next? Call the police? Why
—to tell them that Jenny was going to or already had betrayed Edwin about a Folio they didn’t know about, not really at least? No. Call Rosie, or maybe even Tom? No—Rosie would just be hurt and more worried, Tom and I didn’t know each other well enough yet. I dismissed the idea of calling Edwin before it even fully formed in my mind. He didn’t need to know about the letter yet. It would break his heart. And he would just go back to Jenny’s flat and take a closer look at the mattress.
“Elias, will you take me back to Jenny’s building?”
Elias and Aggie looked at each other. Aggie’s eyebrows came together.
“I dinnae ken,” Aggie said.
I explained my case to the best of my ability. I explained that Edwin would be torn apart by the letter, that if I could just check the mattress for the valuable item myself, I could save everyone a lot of heartache. I could get the manager to let me back into the flat. He’d had no problem doing so once before and I could still use the excuse that I was looking for a flat for myself. If I could find the item, I could get it to Edwin and he could know for sure that theft hadn’t been a motive for Jenny’s murder. It would help. If I didn’t find it, I would go directly to the police and tell them everything that Edwin hadn’t. At this point it was the only right thing to do.
Elias watched Aggie closely. When she finally nodded he said, “Awright.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Be on yer way and be back soon,” Aggie said.
“Certainly,” Elias said. “Let’s go.”
It was drizzling as we left the house but the rain was coming down in thick sheets just as we pulled up to the front of Jenny’s building. The 1970s architecture loomed up toward the dark storm clouds and reminded me of old horror movies with bad special effects.
For a long moment, I sat in the cab and looked over the green, soaking, empty front grounds and the seemingly distant front door.
“Want tae wait until it settles a little?” Elias asked.
“Not really. I’d like to get in there.”
“Ye need a brollie.”
“I’ve got an umbrella.” I reached into my bag and grabbed one of the umbrellas that I’d put in there this morning.
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Thanks. But I think I should go in by myself,” I said. “Do you mind?”
“Ooch, well, I mind a wee bit. Aggie would mind in a verra big way.”
“I’ll be all right.” I looked at Elias. “I think she was planning on betraying Edwin, but I think someone betrayed her first. Someone she thought cared for her. I don’t know if that same person killed her, but I want to figure out if the person who betrayed her was Hamlet. I think I’ll know if I can’t find the item. I’ll know immediately, I think.”
“But a killer, lass…”
“I know, but I’ll be careful. I think she was killed for a specific reason. If you come in there with me I doubt the manager would be as agreeable to let me in. He knows me, but he doesn’t know you. Tell you what, anyone I talk to, I will let them know there’s a cab out front waiting for me. It won’t be a lie.”
“Awright,” Elias said after a long moment. I could imagine Aggie’s tsk of disapproval. But then he added, “Should we call Edwin?”
“No, not yet.”
Elias looked through the window at the heavy rain and up at the building. “I suppose. But I’ll be in that building the second the hairs on the back of my ears start tae stand up. Aggie always tells me to pay attention tae the hair on my ears.”
“Good plan. Thanks, Elias.” I took the umbrella, unsnapped the strap, and had it up the second I opened the cab door.
Even with the brollie, I was pretty near drenched by the time I reached the front door. The rain hit the ground with such force that it rebounded back up and hit my legs, and there was enough wind that my back also got wet. My hair and face somehow remained dry.
Once under the small awning over the front door, I turned back and waved at the cab. It was impossible to see Elias for all the rain, but I knew he was watching.
The silence inside was, once again, off-putting. The quiet was so loud that it seemed suspicious and foreboding, but that could have been my imagination. I wished for voices, any voices, but no one was talking.
I shook off a chill as I closed the umbrella and set it against the wall by the front door. Someone might take it, but I doubted anyone would be venturing out anytime soon, and I didn’t want to carry it around and drip on everything.
As I knocked on the manager’s door, I stood sideways enough that I would be able to see Gregory if he opened his door. He’d been so stealthy; this time I didn’t want to miss if he appeared.
There was no answer from Harry’s door, and I suddenly wasn’t sure what to do next.
I finally decided to knock on Gregory’s door. Immediately, I heard subtle noises from inside. Footsteps got closer and the door swung slowly open.
“Oh, well, hello,” Gregory said, real surprise in his voice.
“Hi, Gregory,” I said.
He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and there was something new in his demeanor. He didn’t have the same self-confident nonchalance I hadn’t really noticed until now because it was missing. Perhaps he thought he’d said too much to me.
“Delaney from America,” he said, more hesitantly than I would have expected. His eyes shifted to Harry’s door and then back to my face. He rolled on his feet momentarily but then stilled again.
I looked at Harry’s door and then back at Gregory. “Have you seen Harry?”
“No.”
“Any time you might expect him back?”
“No.”
“What’s up, Gregory? You seem bothered by something.” Like the hair on the back of Elias’s ears, my gut told me to dig deeper.
“Nothing.”
He closed his door and stepped out to the hallway. It was a strange maneuver that made me uncomfortable and crowded even though there was plenty of room for both of us.
“You need tae stay away from this place. It’s not a good place.”
“Why? What happens here? Do you know what happened to Jenny?”
Gregory shook his head. “Go, Delaney. Just go.”
Fear skittered up my spine. I didn’t think Gregory was being totally honest but his concern for me seemed genuine, and his request for me to leave suddenly seemed more than reasonable.
“All right. I will. I have a cab out there waiting,” I said.
Before I could even finish talking, he was back in his flat with the door shut and the sound of his dead bolt echoing through the hallway.
I looked up and down the emptiness and wondered if I was spooked for something that was worth being spooked about, or was I just letting the strange atmosphere get to me.
Didn’t matter. It was best that I leave and maybe come back later, with either Elias or Edwin.
I’d been standing there for a few long moments but I’d moved out of the range of the peepholes in Harry’s and Gregory’s doors. Suddenly, Harry pulled open his door and stepped out of his flat. He also seemed genuinely surprised to see me.
“Oh!” he said. He wore a loaded tool belt, oddly reminding me of an old American television show that had a landlord who always wore a tool belt.
“Hi, Harry! I’m glad I caught you,” I said.
“I’m a little busy. I’ve some work tae do on Ms. MacAlister’s flat,” he said. He shook his head as if he wished he hadn’t just said that.
“That’s perfect. I was wondering if I could see it again. I’m looking for a place to live and I just thought … I’ll just come with you if that’s okay,” I said enthusiastically.
Harry straightened and looked at me. “Why do ye want tae see it again?”
“I need a place to live,” I repeated. “It’s not easy to find a place in this city. I really liked the layout, so I thought it might work—when it’s ready, of course. But I just want to make sure.” I didn’t think it was a terrible improvise.
“
Aye?”
“Yes,” I said.
“All right. Come on.” But instead of walking toward the lift, he stood still and then started patting at his pockets. “Oh, hang on, I dinnae have the key ring. How could I forget that? Come in while I grab it, if ye want,” he said.
He’d planned on going to her flat, but didn’t have his key ring on him?
“I’ll just wait out here,” I said.
“Suit yourself.”
He opened his own unlocked door. He pushed it wide and left it that way as he went in and disappeared down the hallway that led to the back bedroom. I couldn’t help but look at his back pocket under the wide tool belt. There was something there in the pocket but I couldn’t be sure if it was the key ring.
Harry’s flat was set up exactly like Jenny’s, even down to the furniture. Jenny had some throw rugs here and there that didn’t match Harry’s floor coverings, but the lamps were the same. So were the couch, chairs, and end tables. So was the chest of drawers that the television sat upon. My eyes went to the drawers and then immediately to the one drawer that had a piece of paper sticking up and out of it. Without warning, the wave that had hit me in the bookshop came over me again, strong but even more fleeting this time. Either I was coming down with something or someone—or something—was trying to relay an important message. Is this how intuition worked when it had to push extra hard to get your attention?
“No,” I said to myself. “That can’t be it. I’m just hoping.”
But I couldn’t help myself, I stepped quickly into the flat, just over the door’s threshold. I looked toward the back hallway, but Harry was still out of sight. I looked at the drawers that weren’t all that far away but far enough to keep me wary. I looked at the piece of paper and listened.
“If that’s you, talk to me,” I said in a whisper so low that only the characters in my head, if there were still any there, could have possibly heard.
Nothing. Not a word. The quiet. It was so damn quiet in this building.
I looked toward the hall again. Still no Harry. I could not leave there without looking in that drawer. I didn’t know why. I had nothing but a sickening wave sensation to make me consider that the piece of paper I saw might be attached to a valuable First Folio.
The Cracked Spine Page 23