“Which makes me think it might not be, not really. Clues just sound better if they’re scary, right?”
Hamlet smiled. “You have a point.” He turned to his computer. “Here, yes, here she is. Darcy John. This is the woman I saw today. I remember him teasing her a little in the class.”
Hamlet had pulled up pictures of university students from one of the student organization’s Facebook pages. The people in the pictures were all tagged.
Darcy John was stunning, with a bright smile, long dark hair, and happy brown eyes.
“She’s lovely. And really tall,” I said.
“Aye, she’s very tall,” Hamlet said.
“Does everyone who gets tagged know they’re on this page?”
“Aye. It’s all part of the university’s social activities. We’re told going in that our names will be public if we attend certain events, and we’re welcome to untag ourselves.”
“How did you find this so quickly?”
Hamlet frowned. “I might have thought she was attractive and looked her up before, back when her father spoke in class. I didn’t stalk her, but I did find this, then forgot all about her until today. Well, mostly. I might have looked around for her for a few days back then, but when I didn’t see her anywhere … She never appeared in that class again, so I assumed she was just visiting it that day.”
I smiled. “I see.”
“Aye.”
Hamlet was twenty-one and could talk to anybody. I’d observed him in conversation with highly educated people about everything from space travel to crayon colors. He was extraordinarily smart and handsome in the artistic way that Shakespeare had probably been. But he didn’t date much—that I’d seen anyway.
Edwin said that Hamlet’s past as a child living on the streets of Edinburgh had turned him into a loner. I thought that was sad, but Edwin thought Hamlet would grow out of it, probably after university.
“If I run into her again, I won’t just walk by without inquiring if she needs anything. I’ll give her my condolences, something more than an awkward smile at least.”
He was also an old soul who just might not ever be able to connect with anyone good enough.
I put my hand on his arm. “That would be nice.”
“I’m sure she’s devastated. They were sweet together in the class. He teased her about being the teacher’s favorite and such. I wish I’d…”
Hamlet might have had a crush.
“I’m sorry, Ham,” I said again.
Hector put his front paws up on Hamlet’s chest and demanded that Hamlet let him kiss away whatever pain he was going through.
Hamlet and I laughed.
Edwin called shortly afterward, telling me he and his Citroën were right outside the shop. I gave Hamlet a quick hug and confirmed with Rosie that it was okay for me to go.
“Tell Edwin the clue too,” she said quietly as two customers searched the shelves.
“I will.” I went through the door, the bell jingling again.
It was neither snowing nor raining. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was cold, though, and I pulled my collar up tight around my neck as I hurried the short distance to the car.
I hopped into the passenger side and filled Edwin in on the latest, including the newest clue.
“All right.” Edwin said as he steered the car toward Shelagh’s street. “What is worth the price of your soul?”
“Deal with the devil?”
“That’s possible.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
We speculated, but none of our guesses seemed to have any meat to them.
We also updated each other on our personal lives. I was happy to hear that he and Vanessa were still going strong—Edwin had everything a person could ever want, and I was glad he had someone to share it with now. I told him about my garret library, and he said he wanted to come see it soon. He had a grand library in his grand house, but I would proudly show him mine, and I knew he’d want to spend some time inside it.
“The house is up that long driveway.” I pointed at a break in the trees.
Edwin turned onto the drive. “Should we have called first?”
“Probably, but I think this will be okay.”
“The element of surprise?”
“Maybe a little.”
“I can work with that.”
“Rosie mentioned you might know about the quirks in Shelagh’s personality.”
Edwin parked the car at the top of the drive. “Aye.”
I looked at him. “Other than her love for Jekyll and Hyde, is there something else?”
Edwin shook his head. “I don’t know her so very well, lass. Well, I don’t know her at all now, but many years ago she was part of the Fleshmarket Batch.”
“The auction group? I don’t know why that surprises me so much, but it does.”
“Aye.”
I thought a moment. “That’s how she knew Birk?” If that was indeed how they knew each other, Birk wouldn’t broadcast it, particularly around others. Fleshmarket Batch was a long-kept secret.
“Probably. They were friends. We … we had to ask her to leave the group.”
“Why?”
“She was … bossy.”
“Bossy? In that she wanted to take charge or something else?”
“Aye. She didn’t like that we weren’t better organized. She didn’t like that the auctions could be spontaneous. She thought everything should be planned and scheduled. We tried to explain to her that we didn’t work like that. She kept fighting our methods, so we had to ask her to leave. It was awkward and terribly uncomfortable.”
“And she and Birk remained friends anyway?”
“It seems so. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, years since Birk and I have had any conversation that included her. You’ll have to ask him.”
“Interesting.” I looked at the house and grounds. No one was around. “Let’s go knock.”
As we got out of the car, we heard neighing from behind the house. The noise made me smile.
“Horses?” Edwin asked.
“Three beautiful ones.”
It was less than a half hour ago that Hamlet had told me about Ritchie John sharing his knowledge of horses with Hamlet’s class. It had crossed my mind that perhaps that’s why Louis had seemed to recognize Ritchie, something to do with horses. I wasn’t sure how I could look into that possible connection, but I’d try.
“I would enjoy seeing them,” Edwin said.
“We’ll ask.”
Edwin knocked, but there was no answer. I peered in through the window next to the door, and then I knocked too. I couldn’t see anyone.
I wasn’t ready to give up. “Let’s go around back. Maybe Winston, the guy who works with the horses, can track her down.”
Edwin followed me around. We came upon the golf cart in the same parking spot Shelagh had used during my visit. I thought about knocking on the door to the mudroom or even just opening it and going inside, but Shelagh and I didn’t know each other nearly well enough.
As we came upon the back grounds, we noticed one of the horses trotting around a corral. Winston was riding Gin. I looked at the back of the house as we walked toward the corral. From this angle I saw the library windows and the door that led into the kitchen. Just as we stopped outside the corral, that door burst open.
The noise of it smacking into the house made such a cracking slam that even the horse stopped to see what was happening.
Jacques Underwood, Shelagh’s nephew, was stumbling toward us. At first I wondered if he was drunk, but then he took his hand from his forehead, where blood seeped and shone bright red against his dark hair.
“Jacques!” I ran to him with Edwin at my heels.
He went down just as we reached him.
“Jacques!” I said again as Edwin and I slowed his fall to the ground. Winston ran over too, crouching with us.
“Aide-la!” Jacques said once his eyes found mine.
“What?” I said.
“Shelagh?”
I looked at the house as we crouched next to Jacques.
“Help my aunt,” Jacques said in English. “He took her!”
“What?” I hurried to stand up and ran inside the back door, Edwin following close behind.
“Where to?” he said.
“This way.” I led us to the library.
The double doors were wide open. We hurried inside, only to be greeted by the aftermath of what looked like a struggle. The seating area had been disturbed, the chairs and couch all in slightly different spots than they should be. Two lamps had been knocked off the tables, and the glass from a broken lightbulb was scattered across the floor.
There was no sign of Shelagh.
Without really knowing what I was doing, I pushed my way around Edwin and hurried toward the front of the house. The main door was now open wide, and bloody fingerprints shone stark against the white trim around it. We rushed outside.
“We were just here,” I said.
“Aye.”
There was no sign of Shelagh anywhere. There was no sign of anyone. We hadn’t seen any other vehicles around the house when we’d arrived, and there was no sign of any now.
It seemed we’d missed seeing Shelagh being taken from her house, by mere seconds.
ELEVEN
The police who arrived to investigate the scene weren’t officers I knew. I also called Inspector Winters, who hurried over too. He asked the investigating officers if they needed help and then told them he was going to talk to Edwin and me.
Winston, Edwin, and I had already given our statements by then, so the officers gave their okay. Winston hadn’t even known that Jacques was in the house. He hadn’t seen Shelagh for over an hour and had spent his morning with the horses. Visibly shaken by the whole incident, he turned his attention back to the animals after giving his statement. They were okay but agitated, probably keying in on everyone’s panic.
“Jacques is going to be fine,” Inspector Winters said as he joined Edwin and me. “The hospital called, and he’s being attended to, but he doesn’t have a concussion.”
“Can you tell us what he said happened?” I asked.
“The best I understand is that Jacques was visiting Shelagh. He calls her his aunt. They were in the library when someone ran inside. According to Jacques, the person was dressed like the Monster”—Inspector Winters frowned; he didn’t like the moniker either—“who has been terrorizing the city. He and Jacques fought, but he hit Jacques, knocking him off his feet, though not unconscious, and then took Shelagh.”
“Was she hurt when Jacques saw her go?” I thought about the blood on the doorframe.
“It’s unclear. He said he heard her yelling but doesn’t know what else happened to her. An alert has been sent out through all possible avenues.”
I nodded. “Edwin and I missed them coming out of the front door by only a couple minutes.”
“That’s what the other inspector said. And you saw nothing at all? Did you hear anything?” Inspector Winters looked between Edwin and me.
“We saw Winston on the horse, but nothing seemed wrong or out of place,” I said.
“Winston was riding in the corral when we came around,” Edwin added.
“There were no other vehicles anywhere. How did they get away?” I asked.
Inspector Winters shook his head. “I wondered the same thing. Apparently there are places where cars can park in spots hidden in the trees out front. The abductors could have been parked there. Shelagh used to use them for parties. There are no vehicles in any of them now, and it’s difficult to tell if any have been parked there recently.”
“Did they check the garage and the greenhouse?” I said, but I knew they had.
“Aye. No sign of her anywhere. Three cars inside the garage.”
“Who else is on the property?” I asked.
“Just you two and Winston.”
“Shelagh has an … assistant, Louis Chantrell, and a driver, Findlay Sweet. They aren’t here?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Her driver, Findlay, is…”
“What, lass?” Inspector Winters asked.
“It’s nothing pertinent to the case, but he and Tom had a few troubles some years back.”
“What do you mean?”
I told Inspector Winters and Edwin about Tom’s past with Findlay. They listened closely.
“And you got in the car with him?” Edwin said.
“It was fine, and it might be that I just don’t like him—this might not be fair. But he does seem … creepy.”
“Noted,” Inspector Winters said sincerely.
“If the … Monster took her, this must all be connected to her past,” I said.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Delaney. Not enough proof yet. Copycats take advantage of timing.” Inspector Winters’s eyes were moving around the property.
Out of the corner of my own eye, I spied a person circling around the house in a hurry. She was blonde and pretty, and she looked right at me.
“Delaney, what the hell?” Brigid said as she plopped her hands on her hips.
The investigating officers started walking toward her, an urgency to their steps.
“Uh-oh,” I said quietly as I hurried behind the officers.
“I’m a friend of Shelagh’s and a journalist,” Brigid said with way too much sass. “I heard about the commotion on the police scanner. The public has a right to know what’s going on.”
I jumped in and said to the inspectors, “I know her. Can I just take her up front? I’ll talk to her?”
The inspectors glared impatiently at Brigid as she stood her ground.
“Aye. Take her out of here,” one of them said.
“Let’s go,” I said to Brigid.
She turned, and I followed her bouncing curls back to the front of the house.
There were now more vehicles out front. Three police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance that was no longer needed. I spied what must have been Brigid’s car at the rear of the pack—an old yellow Fiat.
“I swear, you are like a magnet for trouble.” Brigid faced me, replunking her fists on her hips.
“It does feel like that sometimes,” I admitted.
Brigid took a deep breath and let it out shakily. Was she angry or upset or both?
“You okay?” I asked.
“No, what happened to Shelagh?”
I put my hand on her arm. There was a tremor there too. She was shaking all over. “It’s okay, Brigid.…”
“I shouldn’t have written that story, Delaney. I told everyone about that amazing library. I set her up to be … whatever has happened to her, maybe whatever is happening in Edinburgh.”
“No, it’s not your fault there are awful people in the world. And I’m working on the premise that she’s okay. The police will find her.”
“I hope so.”
I nodded. I hoped so too. This was not a good situation, no matter what. Brigid was very upset, though, and I would put on a brave face if that’d help calm her down. It truly wasn’t her fault.
I’d never known her to take the blame in the past. She’d written several stories that had stirred up lots of trouble, but she’d stuck firmly by the fact that the public always had a right to know the truth about everything.
“You like Shelagh.” I said.
Brigid glared at me, but then her face eased into a worried frown. “I do. She is lovely, and forthcoming in ways most people aren’t. I really like her.”
“Your article told a good, interesting story. You didn’t hurt her.” I leveled my gaze.
A few beats later, Brigid seemed to relax. “Tell me what happened, please. You said you would call me, give me an update. I haven’t heard a word.”
I’d forgotten, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead I told her everything I knew. I even told her what Tom and I had come upon in the car park. Her eyes lit with the new
s, and I was surprised she didn’t pull out a notebook to record the event.
“Tell me the second clue again,” she said when I finished.
I shared the ominous words.
“Hang on.” She drew her phone out of her pocket and started searching. “That’s what I thought.” She held the phone so I could see it too. “You went to a pub to meet her. The first clue was in a pub. Maybe it’s all about pubs. What about The Tolbooth Tavern? You have to pay at tollbooths, right? And this place used to be a prison, so maybe paying with your soul was the only way to get out of there, at least for some.”
I took her phone and scrolled through the site on her screen. “Impossible to know, but this might make sense.” I looked back at the house and wondered if there was something else I could do that would help find Shelagh. I couldn’t think of anything. “I need to get to this pub.”
“I’ll take you.” She retrieved her phone and turned.
I grabbed her arm, gently. “Brigid, hang on. No. Listen to me. I’m not going to just go with you. I have to talk to Edwin and Inspector Winters, and I have to call my friend Birk. I made a deal. You can go without me if you want, but technically you weren’t invited to this hunt. I know you want the story, but you can’t just swoop in and take over.”
For a long moment, her eyes told me that she thought that’s exactly what she could do, what she had the right to do. But then she nodded. “I’ll wait in my car but I’m going too.”
“Good enough.” I let go of her arm. She sent me a squinted glare, yet said no more.
I hurried around the house again. The investigating officers said Edwin and I were cleared to leave, but we needed to remain available via our mobiles if other questions arose.
I told both Edwin and Inspector Winters about the possible answer to the clue. Edwin agreed to go with me, but Inspector Winters had other commitments. He wanted another update later, though.
On the way around to the front again, I called Birk, who seemed pleased by a possible solution to the second clue and said he’d meet us at The Tolbooth Tavern. For a moment I thought Brigid had left, but it turned out that her car was hidden by the fire truck. I waved. She rolled her eyes and waved back.
“I can’t believe she waited,” Edwin said as we got into his car.
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