“Hey, Brigid, you have some time?” I asked.
“You have something good for me?”
“I think I might.”
Doubt wrinkled her pretty mouth and the pretty places next to her pretty eyes.
“It’s good,” Elias added his endorsement.
“Well, I’ll be the judge of that. Come on back.” She swooped her arm for us to follow.
And we did.
* * *
I told her everything I knew. I was pretty sure Edwin hadn’t killed Henry; at least I really hoped he hadn’t. I put it all out there, hoping her journalistic mind could bring it together and make some sense of it.
“Something’s up,” Brigid said when I finished.
“I know!” I said with happy exclamation. “There has to be, doesn’t there?”
“I need more answers,” she said.
“Me too! That’s what I was hoping for.”
“No, Delaney, I mean I need more answers before I consider whether or not it’s something I want to continue to follow up on. It’s all over the place. A car bomb—the murder of a man who wants to shut down the bookshop and then allegedly changes his mind after he meets you all. The man in charge of business licenses. They’re tied together, aren’t they? A woman who thinks she’s the reincarnation of Mary, Queen of Scots, and you and she could be related. That’s bizarre, by the way. If I were the police, I’d still be suspicious of everyone at the bookshop. Mostly Edwin and you. Edwin because he’s Edwin and he’s a suspicious man, and you because you look like the dead man’s wife. Spitting image.”
Well, that hadn’t totally gone as I’d hoped. “None of us killed Henry, Brigid, but no matter what you say, I think you know that already.”
“I know nothing of the sort. You’re all a suspicious bunch.”
“But we’re not killers.” I kept my face as neutral as possible. That might not be entirely true, but what had happened between a university-aged Edwin, his friends, and the love of his young life on a boat occurred a long time ago. And, it was probably justified. Nevertheless. “You know we aren’t killers.”
She did that thing with her mouth and eyes again. “I don’t know how I can put together a story in enough time to help you with the vote, Delaney. There’s a lot to look at here.”
“I know. What I was hoping for was that, yes, you get the story. I think it will prove to be a good one. But, what I hope for today is that you give me your contact in the Lord Provost’s office. Surely, there’s someone there you talk to, the press person. That’s how it works, right?”
“You told me all that so I’d tell you my contact?”
“Well…”
“That wouldn’t do me much good in keeping that contact if I gave up her name all the time.”
“I won’t tell her you told me.”
She looked at me.
“Promise I won’t,” I said. “I’m desperate here, Brigid. Please. You’ll have a story, I’m sure. There’s something, or a number of somethings fishy going on here. I bet the answers will converge and make one good story.”
“It’s not enough. I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t hand over my husband (and I wouldn’t if I could), so I had nothing else. Or so I thought.
“How about,” she leaned forward and put her arms on the table. “You do something else for me.”
Elias shifted in his chair as I said, “What?”
“Let me interview Edwin about the warehouse. Let me take pictures.”
The warehouse had officially been deemed not so much a secret anymore, but we still didn’t advertise it. We hadn’t released pictures to the public.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because everyone wants to see it, wants to know it’s real.”
“Edwin’s stopped denying it’s real,” I said.
“But he hasn’t let anyone in. I haven’t seen any pictures yet.”
“I’ll talk to Edwin, and I’ll make a strong case. Cross my heart.” I did just that. “But I need your contact’s name today. Please. Time is running out.”
Brigid sat back in her chair. “Give Edwin a call.”
I looked at Elias.
I said, “I’m not trying to be coy, Brigid, but I really think this is a conversation to have in person. I promise I will do that.”
The weight of negotiation filled the air between us.
“All right. Aye, I’ll do some of your legwork, Delaney. I look forward to hearing back from you. Today,” Brigid said a long moment later.
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
From her desk, Brigid found a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled a name, along with an address. She handed it to me. “If she’s not at work in an office down the hall from the Lord Provost’s, here’s her assistant’s mobile. I won’t give you hers, but she usually works on the weekends, so does her assistant. I know time’s tight or I wouldn’t give you so much.”
I looked at the paper briefly wondering if I might recognize the name, Grace Graham. Didn’t ring a bell.
“Thank you, Brigid.”
“You’re welcome. Talk to Edwin. Call me today.”
“Will do.”
Brigid walked us to the door of the newspaper office and told us goodbye. I could tell she was anxious to get to work. She’d said there was too much information, but she smelled a story, and I knew she’d wrestle to get to it, no matter what she’d said. I hoped her enthusiasm would help her find something that might help keep the bookshop safe.
And find a killer too, of course.
TWENTY-FOUR
Elias and I tried to find Simone Lazar and Monika Hidasi, but they weren’t in the places Inspector Buchanan had noted as their offices. Simone worked out of her home, and Monika had a coffee shop listed as her office space. I hoped they felt the same way Bella did about the vote, and I decided I’d try to reach them later. I wondered if I should just try to talk to all the councilors, but I didn’t know how I could accomplish that with the short time left before the vote.
By the time we made it to the government office that housed the Lord Provost’s office as well as Brigid’s media relations contact, Grace Graham, the entire building was locked tight. I tried the mobile number, but the call went directly to voice mail. I couldn’t help but wonder if Brigid had warned Grace I might try to find her.
“No matter, lass,” Elias said. “May I suggest ye talk tae Edwin first? Ye are correct in that he kens so many people. Maybe he and Grace are acquainted. Start there. I ken ye’ve only a wee bit of time left, but let’s not bother Ms. Graham on the weekend if we dinnae have tae.”
I agreed. He was correct, and, besides, that earlier fluttering of hope I’d felt was becoming stronger. The truth would win out, I was sure.
I just hoped my version of the truth was the correct one.
Elias dropped me off at the bookshop, and I watched his cab until it turned the corner.
When I stepped inside the bookshop with my phone at the ready to call Edwin, I heard his voice. I raced around to the back table though not because of any promise I’d made to Brigid. Even though I’d told her I would try to get her an exclusive regarding the warehouse, I was going to work on a way to get out of that one. I would chalk up my breaking the promise to desperate times.
“You’re here,” I said.
“I am, lass. I’m sorry I didnae return yer calls immediately, but I was looking for someone and,” he glanced at a man sitting across the table from him, “once I found him, we hurried back.”
“I was just going tae ring you,” Rosie said with a confident smile. She and Hamlet sat next to each other at the table too.
Edwin stood and said, “This is our attorney, Jack McGinnis. He’s here to help us.”
“So good to meet you,” I effused as I walked to him and shook his hand after he stood too.
“Good to meet you, lass,” he said, much less effusively, but friendly enough.
“Have a seat, Delaney. Jack was just telling us what we might be able
to do legally to save the bookshop,” Edwin said.
“Oh, I am ready to hear this. So ready.”
Jack McGinnis looked like someone out of The Sopranos. His light Scottish accent was difficult to get used to mostly because I thought he should sound like someone from New Jersey or New York, someone who stereotypically kept brass knuckles in his pocket and liked pasta.
He was firm in the fact that there was no way the vote to close the bookshop was in the realm of legal. Unfortunately, illegal and unethical things happened all the time. He was there to make sure that, ultimately, the bookshop wouldn’t have to close its doors, at least not forever.
“I don’t think I can stop the vote,” he said. “But we can make our case at the meeting, and I can demand to see all the documentation. After that, there are other measures we can take, but nothing works exactly like we’d all want it to. Nothing is going to happen quickly, and it might take some convincing, but I’m confident that it will work out.”
“Unless, the vote fails?” I said. “Then we won’t have to worry about it.”
“There is that possibility,” Jack said.
“Let’s call all the councilors,” I said. “Between all of us, we can get it done.”
“I don’t think that’s reasonable, Delaney. It wouldn’t be easy to acquire all the numbers,” Edwin said. “We’ll make our case at the meeting.”
“Edwin, did you ever talk to Henry? Tell him or anyone you would sue to make sure the bookshop doesn’t close? Did you threaten to sue? Were you angry with him?”
“I haven’t spoken forcefully to anyone other than Lyle, and you were with me,” Edwin said. “That’s why I tracked down Jack in Glasgow, so I don’t have to make such threats. He can take care of that for me.”
Jack nodded.
“Really?”
The bell above the door jingled. Rosie stood and walked toward the front.
“Lass, hello,” we heard her say.
I stood to see who’d come in and was shocked to see it was the person who I was just thinking about. Why had Mary told me that Edwin had threatened Henry? Perhaps the better question was why had Henry told her that? I hoped the even more correct question wasn’t why was Edwin lying about making such threats.
Rosie escorted Mary Stewart toward us.
“Oh. Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt,” Mary said.
“Hello, Mary,” I said.
“Edwin, Jack, this is one of our new friends, Mary Stewart. Mary, this is Edwin, Jack, and Hamlet,” Rosie said. “What can we do for ye, lass?”
Mary frowned as she surveyed us. I didn’t know if she’d come in just to see Rosie or me, but now she had us all.
“Lass, we’re sorry for your loss,” Edwin said.
Mary nodded.
“Wow,” Hamlet said, “I heard about the resemblance, but it’s…”
“Unbelievable,” Jack said as he looked back and forth between Mary and me.
“Truly,” Hamlet added. “Deepest condolences, Ms. Stewart.”
“Thank you,” Mary said with a sad smile. She gathered herself and continued, “I feel like now might be a bad time, but I have some important information to share. I might be able to help.”
“We’re listening,” I said. “It’s not a bad time, Mary.”
“I … remembered something. I searched and found … I’m a wee bit afraid, though. It might be, I don’t know. It might cause more trouble.”
“Did you talk to the police about it?” Edwin asked as Jack continued to look curiously back and forth between Mary and me.
“No,” she said. “I … feel responsible. May I explain from the beginning?”
“Aye,” Edwin said. “One moment.” He hurried to the door, locked it, and turned the sign to Closed.
As we all sat around the table, Edwin made it clear to Mary that Jack McGinnis was our attorney, that he was there specifically to help them fight the council, keep the bookshop open. No one tried to hide anything.
“I’m not going to ask him to leave,” Edwin said.
Mary nodded. “I don’t care. It’s fine.” She pursed her lips a moment. “I think this all began about two years ago. Henry and I were on holiday in France.” She frowned at Jack as he, unashamedly, took notes. She didn’t ask him to stop. “You all probably know that the queen spent much of her youth in France.” We nodded. “On my holiday with Henry, we were enjoying Paris when a docent, a gentleman, in one of the museums there started talking to us. I’m afraid I don’t remember his name—maybe Jean or Jacque, I’m not sure. He was just as intrigued by Mary, Queen of Scots, as I am. Though I didn’t let him know about my past life as the queen, he mentioned that he thought I looked like her, and he wanted to tell us something when we said we were from Edinburgh.” Mary looked at Edwin so pointedly that it was briefly uncomfortable. “And then he brought up the name of this bookshop. I just remembered this afternoon. Delaney must have jogged my memory. I don’t think the man said your name, Edwin MacAlister; I would have remembered sooner if he had. But he mentioned The Cracked Spine, I’m sure of it.”
She stopped talking and fell into thought.
“In what context was the bookshop brought up?” Edwin asked.
She looked at him again. “In his story, he said that the owner of this bookshop had some important documents, some so rare they might actually change the world.”
“We have some rare documents, aye. Was he more specific?” Edwin said.
“He said that in your records, somewhere in your files, you have some notes, handwritten by Elizabeth I herself, regarding a letter aboot a sort of truce between her and Mary.”
“Mary, Queen of Scots?” Jack asked, but I thought it was just for extra clarification. We all knew who she was talking about.
“Aye,” she said.
Jack nodded.
“That’s exactly what we were told,” Mary continued. “I rang the museum just before I came over today and, based on my description of him, that man is no longer there. They couldn’t or wouldn’t give me a forwarding number or address, but I know it happened. I know what he said.”
“Mary, you just remembered this?” I said. “Forgive me, but it was about the queen. I would think you would never forget anything said about her.”
“Why? Because I should remember knowing everything about her, because I was her?”
“No,” I said. “Because you truly believe you were her, I would guess you would remember everything that you learned about her. You would be interested in everything.”
Mary laughed once. “Delaney, people tell me things about the queen every single day. I don’t remember most. I don’t pay attention most of the time, because I can sense what’s real and what isn’t. I know that sounds strange, but believe me—believe in me or not—for whatever reason, what that man said didn’t stay with me. Maybe it didn’t ring true at the time. Maybe it was more about Elizabeth than Mary. I don’t know, but I finally did remember the conversation. Today.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “What else did he say?”
“The gentleman at the museum said that Elizabeth wrote down some thoughts right before Lord Darnley, Mary’s husband, was killed. Her notes were being used as she drafted a letter to Mary. The man in the French museum said that Elizabeth had been considering ways to make the relationship between her and Mary—England and Scotland—better. This notion is backed up some by history, but not the notes or letter specifically. When Darnley was killed, the letter was either destroyed, hidden, or stolen. The docent speculated that perhaps, Moray, Mary’s half brother, had taken the letter, maybe to use against someone at some point. Maybe he just didn’t want it to come to light. Who knows what Moray was up to, but he certainly betrayed Mary.”
Moray again, I thought. “Why did the docent think this letter existed? What proof did he have?”
Mary shook her head. “That’s why I tried to find him today. I don’t think Henry and I asked him for more details. I can’t remember if we were interrupted, if we�
��d had too much wine, or if we thought the docent was a wee bit off in his head. I think I forgot about it all quickly. Until today.”
“I’m not aware of anything of the sort,” Edwin said. “Existing here in the bookshop or anywhere else for that matter.”
Rosie, Hamlet, and I said we hadn’t seen anything that might be a letter written by Elizabeth I. We all would have noticed something that significant.
“Mary, the likelihood that those documents, if they existed at all, could stand the test of time is … almost impossible,” I said.
“Not necessarily,” Mary said. “At dinner, you yourself mentioned Mary’s recently discovered notes. The ones found in a box in the basement of the museum. It’s very possible for documents to stand the test of time.”
I nodded. “True.”
“Edwin, what if you do have the letter or the notes? And,” Mary paused and seemed to steel herself, “what if Henry didn’t forget? I’ve forgotten much from that holiday, but I also remember this: I told him, in jest I thought, that we should buy the bookshop and all its contents. We shouldn’t tell the owner—I didn’t know your name at the time—what we’d learned but that we should just buy everything. We have plenty of money. I was just being silly. I was not serious. We were just having a good time.”
“Oh, no,” I said aloud.
Everyone looked at me.
“Edwin, you’ve said that you would give the shop to Rosie or Hamlet or even me, or you’d just shut it down, before you ever took a dime for it,” I said.
“Aye.”
“Did Henry approach you to purchase the shop?” I asked.
“I have no recollection of any such thing, but many people have approached me to buy the shop over the years.”
“If he did approach you and you told him no, then closing the shop could have been Henry’s revenge,” I said. I looked at Mary. “Edwin says he never spoke with Henry about the vote, a bad inspection, about suing. Edwin just received a recorded call.”
The Stolen Letter Page 17