The name of the restaurant jarred a memory loose. Or maybe it was the talk about Mikey and his wife in conjunction with the name of the restaurant that had done it.
After visiting Dina at her antique shop, I’d been gung-ho to check the maker’s mark on my desk, but I’d forgotten to do so. Even when Tom and I had spent the night searching through files and noting that I was now more comfortable working on the valuable antique, I hadn’t checked the mark. I still needed to do that, and I mentally filed the task away for later.
The restaurant was packed. At least Mikey might not spot us right away, I thought as we went through the door. Of course, we couldn’t find him easily either.
“Let me know if you see him,” Brigid said. “I’ll either get him outside to talk to us or you can.”
I stepped around her and to the side of two men blocking the way. I scanned the room and thought I saw Mikey in the back. It looked as if he was talking to someone, but I couldn’t see the other person.
“He’s in the back,” I said to Brigid. I pulled her closer and pointed.
As we watched him, he leaned forward on the table, placing his arms on it. We could see him grasp other hands. We could see all four hands, but nothing else of the other person.
“Who is he with?” Brigid asked.
“We’ll have to get closer. I can’t tell.”
It wasn’t easy. First of all, we had to explain to the greeter that we were just there to meet someone. That didn’t go over well with the other people waiting to be seated; they weren’t happy to have anyone go around them. Brigid made no apologies, but I did. A few.
She led the way through the maze of tables, but a group of customers was suddenly leaving. We all dodged and darted and danced around each other, and Mikey Wooster was out of our sight for a long few moments.
And then, when we were only a couple of tables away, another customer stood up quickly from his chair. He and I collided.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he took my arms in his hands.
“No problem,” I said.
But he’d inadvertently turned me a little so I was now facing the front of the restaurant more than the direction I’d intended to go. I still couldn’t see Mikey, but I caught sight of a flash of red hair. Lots of people had red hair, in Scotland and everywhere else for that matter, but that flash I’d seen reminded me so much of me that I was at least ninety percent certain I’d seen Mary leaving the restaurant. I knew her hair because it was so much like mine. I blinked and did a double-take toward the front door. But the flash of familiarity was now gone, either out through the door or behind the waiting customers.
I’d thought Brigid’s idea to find Mikey was potentially a waste of time. So what that he’d argued with a fellow councilor who happened to be his wife’s uncle. Councilors argued, but Mikey wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Henry. I still didn’t want to think so, and even if him having lunch with his wife’s aunt wasn’t weird, there was something about the holding hands that struck me funny. Well, not funny so much as curious.
Was I working way too hard to try to find Mary, Queen of Scots’ third husband, the one she allegedly had an affair with, the one who probably killed her second husband?
Eureka!
A bookish voice suddenly spoke up in my mind. It was Archimedes, talking about the amount of gold in a crown. He probably hadn’t said the word, but many gave him credit for it. It all suddenly seemed so fitting.
“Damn,” I said to the bookish voice. “Damn,” I said to the whole entire mess.
“Are you okay?” the man said again.
I focused on him and smiled. “Fine, thanks.”
He let go of my arms and turned to leave. I sent one more glance toward the front of the restaurant, but whoever I’d seen was gone now.
“Excuse me,” a server said as I continued to stand in the way.
I turned and made my way back to the table, where I joined Brigid and a clearly irritated Mikey. Whoever he’d been holding hands with was gone.
“Nice to see you again, Mikey,” I said as I sat down.
“Likewise,” Mikey said, his voice clipped.
I gestured toward Brigid. “This is my friend, Brigid.”
“Yes, she introduced herself. Hello,” Mikey said. “I’m afraid I was just leaving, but feel free to take the table.”
As Mikey stood, I put my hand on his arm. “I swear I just saw Mary Stewart walk out of here. Was she here with you?”
“What? No.”
He was a terrible liar, but more than being offended that he was lying, I wondered why he would do so. Why did it matter if he and his wife’s aunt were having lunch? Unless that handhold did mean more than what should be between the two of them.
I wished my mind hadn’t gone there, but it had.
“Okay,” I said. “Mikey, I need to talk to you about something. Can you please stay a few minutes longer?”
He made a big display of looking at the expensive watch on his wrist. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting.”
“We’ll walk you out,” Brigid said.
We were going to follow him no matter what he said, no matter how fast he hurried away. The crowd wasn’t so bothersome when it was slowing him down too.
“Are you the councilor who originally wanted the bookshop closed?” I asked when we made it outside.
“Excuse me?” he said as he took quick, long steps toward a car.
“Did you argue with Henry the day before he was killed? Was it something about the bookshop?” I asked.
“What? No!” he said again.
“Okay, what about something else?” I said. Brigid looked at me with wide-eyed approval. She wanted me to keep talking. I didn’t even know that what I was about to say was something I’d been thinking about, maybe processing. It was a shot in the dark, but I felt compelled to try. “You had a building inspector deem it unsafe, didn’t you?”
He shrugged far too casually. “I would never ask an inspector to falsify documents.”
“It’s not unsafe,” I said as I grabbed his arm, far too forcefully.
He stopped walking, frowned at my hand on his arm, and then pulled it gently away. “Ms. Nichols, I’m not sure what you are trying to say, but you’d better be careful.”
“Just tell me why you wanted the bookshop closed? Or why Henry did. What do you want?”
“I don’t want any business closed, but things have to be done correctly. There are rules to follow.”
“Did Henry want the bookshop closed? Was he trying to get something for Mary?” I couldn’t give up.
“Henry was also about doing things correctly. Nothing done has been done inappropriately.”
I squinted and tried to think. “I know you from somewhere, I’m sure I do. It was in the rain. Where was it?” I’d all but forgotten that when I’d met him, I’d found him familiar, but as I looked into those blue eyes now, I remembered. Where had we met? “Did you come into the bookshop during a storm? Wait it out inside?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We have the name of the inspector,” Brigid cut in. “We’ve already got an appointment with him.”
Concern, maybe even fear, flitted briefly over his features. “Not that it would matter, but I don’t believe you. Inspectors’ names aren’t shared with the public.”
“I’m a reporter,” Brigid said as she crossed her arms in front of herself. She didn’t mention her aunt’s name, but she did say, “Dwayne Stover.”
He blinked again in surprise, but quickly regained his composure. “I wish you the best of luck, but I assure you—again—that everything has been done appropriately and within the letter of the law. And everything is set in motion. The vote is scheduled and cannot be unscheduled. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Mikey opened his car door and got inside. He shut the door too gently, trying to prove he wasn’t ruffled by our questions, I thought.
“He’s such a liar,” Brigid said.
&
nbsp; “About what?” I said. “Which part?”
“I wish I knew, but I just know he’s not being truthful about something.”
“But everything is set in motion,” I said.
“The vote will not pass, Delaney. Grace will spread the word and it won’t pass. I’ll help. I’ll write an article for tomorrow.”
“The day of the vote.”
“It’s better than the day after.”
I watched as Brigid stared toward where Mikey’s car had turned.
“What are you thinking about?” I said.
She ignored the question. “Why did you ask if he was having lunch with Mary?”
“I thought I saw red hair that looked like mine.”
“I didn’t see that. I wish I had. Come on, let’s go find Dwayne Stover.”
“Do you really know where he is?”
“I have no idea, but I have people who can find anyone.” She pulled out her phone. “I suspect Mikey will ring him and let him know we’re coming. We need to move quickly.”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Dwayne Stover’s office was hidden behind another building. In fact, we had to venture down a close to find the door. Painted on its front was simply: Dwayne Stover, City Building Inspector.
There were no windows, and neither of us was surprised that the door was locked. We knocked a few times, but also weren’t surprised we didn’t get an answer.
“Do you think he’s out inspecting?” I said. “On a Sunday?”
“Anything is possible, but I’m more inclined to believe that Mikey Wooster told him not to be here when we got here. Damn, I shouldn’t have played that card, but I couldn’t stop myself. Mikey Wooster is an arrogant twit.”
“It’s okay, we’ll track Dwayne down at some point. You have people.”
“Sure.” Brigid didn’t sound as confident as I would have liked.
We called the number we found for his business, but no answer there either. The atmosphere in the close was a stark contrast with our moods. A park bench and some planter box trees made it a comfortable retreat. We knocked on the two other doors—one belonging to an artist, one a potter with some beautiful work we spied through the window, and the last one an accountant. None of them knew Dwayne well, but they saw him every now and then. He was described as a typical older guy with no distinguishing features.
“What about Monika and Simone? There are others we could try to talk to,” I said.
Brigid looked at her phone. “I’ve got to head back to the newspaper office and get that article written. I’ll keep working on this. I’ll call you if I come up with anything else. I’d like to talk to Dwayne before the vote. I’ll keep trying to find him. If he tells me more about why the bookshop’s buildings aren’t safe, I’ll ring you right away. Maybe I’ll send him over to you. You all should know—it’s your right to know.”
“We should have a copy of the inspection.”
“Aye,” she said doubtfully.
“What?”
“It’s all so cagey,” she said. “None of this is making sense. At first I thought you might just be using me to try to hide problems the bookshop was having, but I’m beginning to think you all were set up. I just wish I knew why.”
“I do too.”
We said goodbye and I watched her walk down the Royal Mile. I had a dinner date scheduled with Tom, but I was going to be late. I texted him that I was taking a quick detour first.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the red hair I’d seen at the restaurant. I couldn’t let go of the sense that Mikey was lying. But about which part? Mary had behaved like we might be friends. I’d gone along with her to talk to Clayton. Now, I needed something from her.
Tom texted back that he’d see me soon, and that I should be careful.
Always, I replied.
THIRTY
“That’s her hoose?” Elias asked as the cab moved slowly up the driveway.
“Yes, it’s something else, isn’t it?”
“Aye.”
Immediately after I’d texted Tom, I called Elias. He was close to dropping off a paying customer but could come get me after that. I only waited ten minutes, and when he arrived, I asked if he was up to being the Watson to my Sherlock again. He was willing and drove us to Mary’s castle, parking the taxi in the same spot Tom had.
“Ye’re not going into that hoose by yerself. I’m going with ye. That place is terreffeen,” he said.
“Terrifying?”
“Aye.”
With him by my side and as he puffed up some, I knocked and was surprised again when Mary opened the door. I wasn’t sure who I kept expecting, but it seemed so ordinary that the person who lived in a castle be the one to answer the door. Didn’t they have knights in shining armor for those sorts of things?
The first thing I noticed was that her red hair was pulled up into a ponytail. The second thing I noticed was that her eyes were rimmed in red. She’d been crying, though that was to be expected. I got no sense that she was being medicated, that Eloise had been here again today.
“Delaney,” she said. “Hello?”
“Mary, this is my friend, Elias. Do you have a minute?”
Mary smiled tightly and nodded at Elias. “It’s been a rough day, Delaney … but, sure, come in.”
“Thanks,” I said as Elias sent me some raised eyebrows before we followed her inside.
“What’s going on?” Mary asked after she closed the door.
“I’m sorry it’s been a rough day,” I said.
She nodded impatiently. I needed to ask her what I’d come to ask her.
“Mary, did you have lunch today at Makers Gourmet Mash Bar?”
It was such a brief flash of surprise that I might not have caught it if I hadn’t been looking so closely at her eyes.
“I did. Were you there?” she said.
“I was. I tried to say hello, but you seemed in a hurry to leave.”
Ignoring my questioning tone, she said, “I had lunch with my niece’s husband. Mikey—oh, you know him.”
“I do. You seemed upset,” I said. It was a guess. I hadn’t seen her face.
“No, not at all. I just had another appointment I had to get to. I was in a hurry.” She looked at her fingernails, and I wondered if she was pondering if she could say she’d had her nails done. “Just another appointment.” She stopped looking at her nails and sent me a strained frown.
I put my hand on her arm, suddenly feeling more sympathy for her than I’d expected to feel. “Mary, do you think Mikey had anything to do with Henry’s murder?”
She blinked hard and fast, but didn’t protest, didn’t make a move to kick us out of there. “I don’t think so.”
“But ye dinnae ken for sure?” Elias said.
She shook her head and then looked me in the eye. “He said he didn’t. I asked. I came out and asked him.”
“Why? Why did you ask him?” I said.
“I’m just trying to figure it all out,” she said. “Delaney, do you remember the night of the dinner?”
“Of course.”
“I saw something between Henry and Mikey. There was some animosity.”
“I think I saw that too.”
I sensed Elias unpuffing a little with Mary’s vulnerability. He was such a softy.
She looked at me. “I told you that Henry and I discussed the bookshop later that night, but I’m sure I sensed there was a problem between Mikey and Henry. Dina went home first, by herself. Mikey stayed and talked to Henry a while. I’m trying to put things together, and I wondered if maybe Henry told Mikey he was going to try to either cancel or postpone the vote about the bookshop and if that upset Mikey.”
“Enough to kill?” I said.
“Enough to kill, aye, or enough to do something to get Henry killed. I don’t know, but I just wanted some answers.”
“What did Mikey say?”
“That he and Henry didn’t discuss anything about the bookshop, that they spoke a
bout all manner of council business that night except the bookshop.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I don’t know what to believe. Henry was so upset about what he’d done to get the bookshop shut down that I can’t imagine him talking about anything else that night, and that contention I thought I sensed…”
“Did Mikey tell you any specifics about their conversation?”
“Mikey told me he would never do anything to hurt Henry. He couldn’t understand why I would even ask him such things. That’s all he would really say. I pressed him about the bookshop, the Burgess Tickets, anything I could think of, but he avoided answering specifically. He just kept saying he would never hurt Henry. Delaney, I’d insisted on meeting in a public place because it was that much of a concern, but maybe I’m not thinking clearly. He sounded sincere.”
“But you still don’t believe him, do you?” I said.
She shook her head slowly. “I wish I did.”
“Did they have any problems in the past?” I said.
“No, and Delaney, I knew my husband. He could barely brush his teeth that night for thinking about the bookshop. I’m sure that if they had a disagreement, it must have been about the bookshop.”
“Closing it or keeping it open?” I asked.
“I can’t be sure, but Henry was bent on making sure he fixed what he’d set in motion, that it would stay open.”
“Why would Mikey want to close the bookshop?” I said, but I had my own answer. The Mary, Queen of Scots’ coins, even if parts of that idea weren’t clear. I didn’t say that aloud.
“I can’t think of any reason at all,” Mary said. “I didn’t even ask him that. There didn’t seem to be any point.”
“Did you tell the police about your suspicions, lass?” Elias said.
Tears came to her eyes. “No, they’d probably think I’m crazier than they already do. Besides, he’s my niece’s husband.”
The Stolen Letter Page 21