“I can get my door, Birk. Thanks, though,” I said as I jogged toward the car, glad for the milder weather.
Birk hesitated but then slipped back into the driver’s seat and closed his door. Just as I made it around to the passenger side, I heard a sound from the end of the row of buildings that housed the bookshop.
It was a distinct growl, maybe like a dog’s but with a higher pitch. I stopped and looked but saw nothing. No one was walking in that vicinity. A few people were walking across Grassmarket Square, some going into the pubs I’d recently visited. I glanced up the street to Tom’s pub, where a line of customers snaked out the door.
Birk got out of the car again. “What’s going on?”
“I thought I heard something.”
“What?”
I looked back at the end of the street, where I was sure the noise had come from. Okay, maybe not sure. There was no one there, and I knew that my imagination was on fire.
“Nothing,” I finally said before I hopped into the car.
SIXTEEN
I would never tell my husband, but Whistle Binkies was maybe one of the coolest pubs I’d ever seen.
To be fair, it was impossible to go wrong with any Edinburgh pub, but since my heart belonged to the smallest pub in Scotland, it took a lot to turn my head. Whistle Binkies had enough to do it.
We were no longer in Grassmarket but not far away from either the Royal Mile or my blue house by the sea. I felt like we’d come upon a place that should have required a secret knock. The inside of the space was long, with the stage area at one end and the bar and leather banquettes jutting and alcoved off the main area. Old brown tiles, some of them chipped and broken, covered the floor, and in some places old casks had been repurposed as chairs for tall tables.
A band was warming up when we entered through a door next door to a pizza place. The pub was already crowded, most of the chairs filled, the hum of voices and some raucous laughter adding more layers of noise to the band’s jaunty rhythms.
Birk and I made a quick beeline to the bar. It was the first pub we’d visited where we had to raise our voices. I introduced myself and Birk to the bartender, a young woman calling herself Sprout. I ordered two pints and then asked Sprout if she had any clues for us.
She didn’t consider my question for more than a second or two before she laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me know if you need anything else.” And then she turned and gave her attention to another customer.
Birk and I grabbed our pints.
“Let’s go talk to the band,” I suggested.
“Right behind you. The ale is agreeable.”
The four-man band reminded me of the Beatles, at least in the way they looked. Their sixties-throwback clothing and shaggy haircuts were cute and nostalgic.
Birk and I weren’t your typical groupies, I decided as we passed by a table of young women who all seemed to be glancing at the band members as casually on purpose as possible. I smiled at the women, but they didn’t smile back as we walked by the table, blocking their views momentarily.
We stopped just to the side of the stage. Birk was the first to raise his pint in salute when the lead singer noticed us.
The singer’s eyebrows rose. I smiled and waved. To his credit he said something to the drummer and then walked toward us.
“Help you?” he said, his accent British rather than Scottish. He reminded me more of John Lennon than Paul McCartney in looks, but there was something playfully Paul about him.
Again I introduced Birk and myself and gave him my now well-practiced spiel about our hunt. He told us his name was Todd.
“That sounds fun.” Todd smiled.
“Well, maybe a little. Our last clue led us here and, we think, specifically to your band. The people who set up the hunt are particularly fond of the book Jekyll and Hyde. Is there anything you might want to share with us that would send us to wherever we need to go next? Has anyone given any of you a note to pass along? Or a message? Something?”
His eyebrows came together in genuine thought as he shook his head slowly. “I can’t think of one thing. I’ll ask the others.”
He wasn’t far away, but we couldn’t hear him as he spoke to the other band members. They all shook their heads in response.
“Sorry, nothing,” he said as he rejoined us.
“What’s the story behind your band’s name?” I asked.
Todd shrugged. “Hyde’s my last name.”
“What about your songs? What are some titles?”
“They’re all original. Tonight’s set will be the same set we’ve been playing for a while.”
Todd told us the titles of the songs, but it was clear they weren’t well-known songs, not publicized and not printed on the back of a CD case or a record sleeve. Hyde and Seek hadn’t made any such recordings. They were simply a bar band, and that’s the way they liked it. They all had day jobs doing things that didn’t seem in any way tied to our hunt. None of them worked with books nor inside laboratories where potions to create monsters might be mixed.
We overstayed our welcome, but Todd remained polite and as helpful as he could be. The audience started to get antsy for the band to start playing for real. As we turned to walk toward the back of the pub, Todd stopped us and said, “Tonight’s our only night this month.”
“What’s that?” I said as Birk and I turned around again.
“We’re a popular band in this pub, many pubs, but like I mentioned, we all have day jobs. We don’t do as many gigs as the pubs would like us to do. They always advertise with flyers and such. It’s usually a pretty big night for them.”
“Aye,” Birk said. “You think that whatever clue might be here, it’s here only tonight?”
Todd shrugged. “If you’re on the right track, I guess.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.” Todd moved back to his microphone.
With our pints we stepped away and found a corner where we could stand. We listened to the band and looked around for something that might be a clue. Maybe someone was coming in tonight to talk to us. Did we just have to wait?
Hyde and Seek were great and sounded more country than Beatles. Birk and I had fun. Their fan base was loyal. The pub became very crowded, but the audience was more interested in hearing the music than talking over it.
We might have stayed later, but after a couple hours we lost steam and decided we weren’t going to find anything else. In fact, we weren’t sure if we’d found anything to begin with. We were punting, just going where we thought the clues might be sending us. Nothing had been confirmed.
I wondered at what point on the hunt Jacques and Tricia were. No one had mentioned to me that others had come searching, so I assumed they hadn’t made it as far along as Birk and I had, or that they were on a different scent—maybe the correct one.
I followed Birk as we weaved our way through the crowd toward the stairs. I bumped into him when he stopped suddenly. He was looking at something on the wall. It was an old poster, a painted depiction of the galaxy. I’d noticed it when we came in, thinking there was something very “ancient astronomers” about it.
“Lovely,” Birk said.
“It is,” I agreed.
I’d been with Birk a few times when he’d become intrigued by a work of art. It could be anything from a fine masterpiece to a stamp. He’d once carried around an ad from a local plumber for a couple weeks just because he liked the colors used. It wasn’t surprising that he needed a moment to take in the beautiful poster.
He finally nodded and led the way up the stairs and out to the cold—but still not stormy—night.
“Now what?” he said once we were inside his car again.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I wonder if the police have mentioned who they arrested.”
“I don’t know. We’ll listen to the news as I run you home.”
“Tom’s pub if you don’t mind, please.”
<
br /> Birk turned on the radio, and we first heard the latest weather forecast. Nothing new or surprising there. The newscaster answered our burning question a moment later.
“Though the local police had arrested someone they suspected was the New Monster, the city won’t in fact be allowed a breath of relief, because the suspect has been released. We are working to gather further details, but officials aren’t disclosing the name of the man they brought in for questioning. We’ll keep you up to date. In other news—maybe tied together, maybe not, local philanthropist Shelagh O’Conner still hasn’t been found.” The man on the radio cleared his throat. “Let’s keep aware, folks, and let’s find Shelagh.”
With agitation Birk turned off the radio. “Damn, none of that is good news.”
“No, it’s not.”
Birk left the radio off, and we took the rest of the trip in silence, both of us probably wondering what to expect or prepare for next. It was impossible to know.
The only place available to pull over was on the far side of Grassmarket Square. Birk let me out and waited as I looked down toward the bookshop. It was closed, and nothing seemed out of place. I waved at Birk and then hurried across the square to the pub. There was no line of customers anymore, but it was still crowded inside.
Birk waited until I waved at him again before he took off.
As he drove away, though, I spotted something that froze me in my tracks.
The Monster was there, watching me.
SEVENTEEN
My eyes were on the far corner of Grassmarket-Canongate. I was sure I’d seen a person in a shabby coat and hat peeking around the building on that corner, watching me. But that certainty wavered a little as I continued to stare and didn’t see anything else for a few long beats. Nevertheless, I grabbed on to the arm of someone walking into the pub.
“Pardon?” the man said.
“Get Tom, right away,” I said.
“What?”
“Please. Get Tom. Now.”
“Aye,” he said. He hurried inside as I barely blinked, keeping my eyes on that now-dark spot, afraid I’d miss more … something.
An eternal half a minute or so later, Tom stepped out of the pub.
“Delaney?”
“Tom, come with me,” I said.
“Aye.”
We took off, across the square and toward the corner.
“I think I saw the Monster,” I said.
“Let’s call the police.”
“I’m not sure, though.”
“All right. Let me lead.” Tom moved ahead of me.
“Right around that building.”
We stopped and peered carefully around the corner. The brick-paved road led up to and under a bridge in the direction Birk and I had just come from—toward Whistle Binkies. A close was located in between the buildings about thirty feet way. I’d been in the close before; it was steep and frequently used on haunted tours. As we looked up the meagerly lit road, it seemed we briefly saw the flap of a coat at the close’s entrance.
Tom and I looked at each other.
“You saw that?” I said.
“I did.”
“Let’s follow,” I said. “I’ll call Inspector Winters as we go.”
Even if he’d wanted to argue, there wasn’t time to think. We were together, and we would be as careful as we could be.
“All right.” Tom led the way, and I pulled out my phone as we approached the close.
“Delaney?” Inspector Winters picked up just as Tom took out his phone and clicked on the flashlight app, shining it into the close. We didn’t see anyone, but the steep close was intimidating.
“Tom and I are chasing someone we thought might be the … Monster.”
“What? Stop immediately.”
“It’s okay, we’re keeping a distance.” I told him where we were.
“All right. Don’t go into that close, do you understand? I’ll get someone out there immediately.”
“Got it.” I ended the call and said to Tom, “We have strict instructions not to go in there.”
“Aye.” He held the light steady.
On each side, old brick buildings were stacked and angled atop each other, and metal fire escapes glinted off Tom’s light.
The slam of a door echoed around us.
Tom tried to move the light toward the direction of the noise, but because of the crazy angles of the buildings some doors were hidden from view, and echoes were weird anyway.
It couldn’t have been fifteen more seconds until a police car, sirens blaring, came to a stop behind us.
We identified ourselves and told them what we’d seen. On foot they took off up the close, with much stronger flashlights than the one on Tom’s phone.
“Stay back,” one of the officers commanded over his shoulder.
We did, but not far. We waited at the curb, where Inspector Winters soon pulled up and parked his car.
“Glad you two are okay,” he said.
“We’re fine,” I said. “I was pretty sure I saw something, but I just didn’t know,” I said. “And then both Tom and I saw something here.”
“I have no doubt we saw the flap of a coat,” Tom said. “But that’s it.”
“The person who was arrested was released?” I asked.
“Aye.”
“Was it someone we know?”
“Aye, I believe it was.”
When he didn’t continue, I tried not to look too eager.
Inspector Winters took a deep breath and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Aye. We arrested Findlay Sweet, but I’m requesting that you not share that information. We only had circumstantial evidence, so it didn’t really hold up, but there might be more for the police to find. We hoped he could help us find Shelagh, but now we believe he had nothing to do with her disappearance.”
“When you say ‘we,’ do you include yourself?” I asked.
“I watched the interview recording. I believe him too. I know more about Findlay Sweet than I ever wanted to, including the fact that he once worked with Tom and that he was the one who delivered the messenger to you, Delaney.”
“What about his ex-wife?” I asked. “Jessica Sweet. I saw her picture on the internet, and I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere, but I couldn’t place her.”
“He hasn’t been married for a long time. I don’t think we’ve talked to her,” Inspector Winters said as he reached for the notebook and pen he kept in his shirt pocket.
“If you do, I’d love to know where she works or lives—I really do feel like I’ve seen her somewhere.” I looked at Tom.
“I haven’t seen her since the day I talked to her about her husband’s behavior all those years ago. I can’t remember what job she did or even if she had one back then,” he said.
“Well, I can’t imagine it matters at all, but just to satisfy my curiosity I’d like to know where I’ve seen her.”
The other officers exited the close.
“Anything?” Inspector Winters asked them.
They shook their heads. “Nothing. We’re going to do a walkabout, though, check the surrounding area.”
“Very good. Be safe.”
Once the officers left, Inspector Winters turned to us again.
“The officers on the case have some new clues to explore, but I’m not at liberty to share them with you. At this point mostly we’d like to find Shelagh O’Conner. Of course we don’t want any other burglaries or murders, but we do suspect that the appearance of the New Monster has something to do with Shelagh’s disappearance. We want her safe. Come along. I’ll get the two of you back to the pub. Be aware. Don’t go out alone.”
“You do believe we really saw something?” I asked as we crossed Grassmarket. I was shaking out my arms, still tense and wired.
“Aye. Can’t tell you if it was the Monster or not, but … just be careful,” Inspector Winters said.
“We will be,” Tom said.
I wondered if Tom was going to insist on being with me now 2
4/7. Not that I would mind hanging out with him that much, but we both had things to do.
Inspector Winters told us good-bye and then jogged back to his car. Tom and I watched him turn and wave in our direction.
“Are you all right, lass?” Tom pulled me close.
“I’m fine. Please don’t worry.”
Tom laughed. “I’ll always worry, but I’m glad you had someone come get me, that you didn’t go alone.”
I pulled back. “You saw the coat flap, right? You’re not just saying that to support me?”
“No, I saw it.” Tom looked toward the corner, his eyebrows coming together. “I don’t know what’s going on or why it seems—and it does seem like this—that whoever is doing all this wants you to see them. You, specifically.”
I hadn’t thought of it exactly that way, but Birk hadn’t mentioned any in-person Monster sightings. I hadn’t asked the others.
“Hello,” a familiar voice said.
We jumped and turned. Tricia stood in the pub’s doorway, her arms crossed in front of herself.
“Tricia?” I said.
“I’ve been waiting. I saw you leave.” She nodded at Tom and then looked back at me. “What were you guys doing? Did I see police cars down there?”
“Hello, Tricia. Good to see you again.” Not missing a beat, Tom stepped toward her and extended his hand. She was so petite that even though she stood on a step, he was still a little taller than her.
They shook.
“You know, I wanted to tell you that you are extraordinarily handsome,” she said with no flirtation at all as she pushed up her glasses.
“Thank you,” he said. “Come on in, drinks are on me.”
The crowd had thinned even more since Birk dropped me off. The three of us moved to the bar, Tom letting Tricia and me pass first. He and I exchanged some conspiratorial raised eyebrows as I moved by. We weren’t going to share the details of what had happened at the other end of Grassmarket—according to our eyebrows at least.
Tricia and I sat on tall stools and both ordered Cokes as Tom moved to the other side of the bar. Rodger was there, as well as a young man I hadn’t met yet. I would introduce myself when he wasn’t so busy.
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