The Loch Ness Papers

by Paige Shelton

  “That’s great news. Thank you!” I stood too.

  “Well, you are marrying into Artair’s family, and he’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. I look forward to meeting Tom, and maybe asking why he doesn’t ever join his father for church on Sundays.”

  I nodded. “That seems fair.”

  “This Saturday morning, then?”

  “Definitely.” I cleared my throat. “I found something right outside the door as I came in. I wonder if they belong to you?” I extended the baggie-encased cards.

  “Oh dear, I imagine he dropped them,” she said as she reached for the baggie. She looked up at me again. “We have a church member who was here just before you.” She hesitated and I noticed something move over her face. Irritation? But it passed quickly. “He’s … well, he’s quite into the Loch Ness Monster. I suspect he dropped them. I’ll get them back to him.”

  I didn’t hand them over right away. “May I ask what you mean by ‘quite into’?”

  She smiled, almost grimly. “Obsessed.”

  “Obsessed?”

  “Aye,” she said as she cocked her head. “Why?”

  “My background includes working at a museum and with many different types of collectibles. In a nutshell, I find collectible items, as well as obsessions with collectible items, intriguing. I would be happy to return these to him myself.”

  “I see.” She studied me again, a longer moment this time. When she finally spoke, I wondered if she had her own version of bookish voices, or if her gut was just telling her I could be trusted. “Norval Fraser is somewhat famous, locally. He’s long been obsessed with Nessie. There’s a story there, and I suspect he might tell that story if you stopped by his flat—it’s right across the street, along Buckingham Terrace—and let him know you found his cards. His flat is overflowing with his obsession, and, frankly, he likes to show it off, to the right people, I guess.”

  “Even better,” I said.

  But that look pinched at her eyes again. Something told me her earlier meeting with Norval Fraser might not have been pleasant.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course.” She smiled. “Norval was a wee bit upset this morning. He came over … and I’m worried about him is all.”

  “Oh.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my plate this morning and my mind is going a million different directions. All is well. Yes, if you’d like to stop by Norval’s, I know he’d like to have his cards back. Be prepared, his flat full of stuff is more claustrophobic than interesting.”

  In other words, I thought to myself, his flat was the opposite of her pristine office.

  “I would love to introduce myself to him. I promise not to bug him, I’ll simply return the cards if he doesn’t want to talk to me,” I said.

  “Aye, certainly. He’s just across the way, in the third-in, lower floor flat. Twenty-three. You’ll see the number on the door. Tell him I sent you over.”

  “Thank you.”

  She walked me to the door and I told her I’d bring the towels back when Tom and I returned on Saturday. She said I could keep them.

  I stepped out of the building and found clear, sunny skies. Maybe I would dry more quickly now. At least I wasn’t too cold. I wondered if Nisa would break out into a cleaning fit over the water I’d dripped everywhere. I would have offered to clean up after myself if I knew I wouldn’t just keep dripping or leaving wet footprints in my own wake.

  I glanced at my watch. I’d darted out of the bookshop two hours earlier. Reverend O’Brien had passed away a week ago, and, bizarrely, finding a replacement hadn’t even occurred to either Tom or me, until Rosie asked me this morning what we were going to do. I’d panicked a little, but then buckled down and got to work figuring out my options. Well, option; I’d only come up with this one. Unless Nisa ended up not liking me or Tom, it looked like I’d accomplished my mission.

  And, cherry on top, now I was going to introduce myself to someone obsessed with the Loch Ness Monster.

  Extra cherry on top: The rain had stopped, at least for now.

  THREE

  Each attached narrow section of Buckingham Terrace held three floors of separate apartments, and the doors leading to the upper floors looked just like the front doors of the bottom flats, not entries to stairways. Despite some momentary door confusion on my part, it wasn’t difficult to find number twenty-three. However, once I knew I was at the right apartment I hesitated when I noticed foil covering the front window. I reasoned with myself that the cards needed to be returned somehow, and when I noticed the cartoon Nessie welcome mat, I sensed there was probably no real reason to be concerned for either Norval Fraser’s stability or my safety.

  I knocked and immediately heard a shuffling on the other side.

  “Aye? Hold on a moment. I’m on th’ way,” Norval, I assumed, said from inside.

  The door’s creaky hinges protested even though he opened it only a crack. “Aye?”

  “Hi, I’m … well, my name is Delaney and I’m the one who ran into you up by the church, but that doesn’t … I found these.” I held up the bag with the deck of cards. “Reverend Nisa said they probably belong to you. She thought it would be okay if I brought them over.”

  The door’s hinges protested more loudly as he opened it fully. I tried not to let my eyes scan the space behind him, but I couldn’t seem to ignore the stacks inside. Rudely, my eyes lingered behind the man and not on him.

  “They are mine,” he said with a smile. “Thank ye, lass.”

  “Happy to help,” I said as I gave him the bag. When my eyes went back to him, I noticed that he’d extended his hand. “Oh, sorry.”

  He took the cards and looked behind himself, then back at me. “Aye, this mess? It’s all part of my job, my work, I’m afraid. My work requires many pieces of paper, many things.”

  I gave him my full attention and smiled. “I admit, Nisa told me about your interest in the Loch Ness Monster, and I was curious.”

  “Ye’re intrigued by Nessie?”

  “Well, yes, but I tend to be intrigued by people who are intrigued by things. I’ve spent my career working in a museum and now in a rare and used bookshop in Grassmarket. I’m familiar with obsessions, even have a few myself.”

  Sometimes there’s an invisible but real and immediate connection between people. I’ve never quite understood it, but my intuition has never once been wrong about it. I’d felt some of it with Nisa, but as Norval smiled up at me, the few hairs on his head still pasted to it, his glasses now dry, and his teeth still moving, a wave of real affection rolled between us. As if to underscore the moment, a bookish voice piped up.

  What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.

  If it hadn’t been so completely odd to do it, I might have answered Aristotle out loud, telling him that maybe the connection to Norval wasn’t quite that intense, but it was real nonetheless, thank you very much. As it was, I simply digested the old philosopher’s words and returned the inquisitive smile Norval sent in my direction.

  “Which bookshop?” he asked a moment later.

  “The Cracked Spine.”

  “Oh! Edwin MacAlister’s place?” he said.

  I hesitated. “Yes.”

  “He’s been here before, right here at my hoose.”

  I nodded him on, and hoped their meeting hadn’t gone badly.

  “Aye. He wanted my papers, all of them, he said. He said I have the grandest collection of all, and if anything could prove that Nessie is real, it’s the work I’ve done.”

  “Sounds exactly like something he would do and say.”

  “Aye.” His eyebrows came together, and he fell into thought.

  “You weren’t interested in selling?” I said.

  “No! Of course I willnae sell my papers. I willnae sell anything.”

  “I understand,” I said, working hard not to sound patronizing or confused.

  His eyes snapped back to mine
. “No, I willnae sell, but I would like tae give them away, tae someone who will continue my work. Ye might be surprised how difficult it is tae find someone tae carry on.”

  “I see.”

  “Mr. MacAlister said he wouldnae continue, but he would care for my papers, maybe see that they made it tae a museum or something, but he wouldnae continue.” He paused, but only briefly. “Would you?”

  “Oh.” Something stopped me from giving him an outright and emphatic no. Declining the offer was my first reaction, but something held me back, kept my dissent tamped down. “What does that mean, to continue your work?”

  He blinked at me again. He must have felt that wave of affection too. Or maybe he just wanted company, because he said, “Would ye like tae come in and I’ll show ye?”

  “I would. Thank you.”

  I hadn’t hesitated, but it did occur to me that at least Nisa knew where I was going. Someone knew I might be inside Norval’s flat. Rosie and Tom knew I was stopping by the church to talk to Reverend Nisa. If I disappeared, the pieces could be put together. But, I admitted to myself, I couldn’t have resisted going inside the apartment full of all things Loch Ness Monster, even if the wave I’d felt had been terror, not affection.

  I wiped my feet vigorously on the mat and followed him inside, noticing that he placed the cards on the coffee table after he shut the door.

  The light inside wasn’t all artificial. Though foil covered the front window, there were three uncovered windows across the back, which was also where a small kitchenette and dining area were located. The dining table was covered with stacks of papers and other things; so were the chairs around the table. I could see either a garden or a bunch of overgrown green bushes outside one back window. The couch, chair, and coffee table in the living room were also mostly covered with papers, though there was an open seat at one end of the couch. The old, small television was turned off, its screen dusty and its top propping up another stack.

  There was a lot to take in, but mostly I saw papers, notebooks, and photographs. I saw a toy or two, stuffed and plastic. My eyes skimmed over some items on the floor and tucked partway behind the chair: an old eight-millimeter camera, small canisters of film, and a projector that reminded me of elementary school from my parents’ days.

  “Take a seat.” Norval nodded at the end of the couch. “Cuppa or some coffee? I think I have some hot chocolate. Would ye like something tae take off the chill?”

  “I’m okay, but thanks. I’m still wet from the earlier rain. Maybe I should stand.” I was now more damp than wet, but chances were pretty good that I would leave wet spots wherever I sat.

  “Nonsense, have a seat.”

  The towels were useless, so I just kept them on my lap as I took the one seat on the couch. I wondered if and where Norval was going to sit.

  “Give me a minute.” He disappeared around the half wall to the kitchenette and dish noises ensued.

  On the coffee table in front of me was a precariously stacked small pile of books. Kids’ books about the Loch Ness Monster. I didn’t recognize any of them, but it had been a long time since I’d paid much attention to children’s books. A cute, worm-like creature illustrated the cover of Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. The Loch Ness Monster’s cover highlighted a horrifying dragon-like creature, though still aimed at younger readers. I didn’t want to tumble the pile, so I didn’t try to see the other titles. I wondered if the book I’d seen in Nisa’s office had come from this stack. Just as my eyes wandered down the coffee table and landed on an old manila folder with frayed edges and “2013” scribbled on its tab, Norval returned.

  “Have a cup.” He extended one in my direction, holding another in his other hand and a folding chair under his arm.

  I inspected the cup, expecting to see a monster illustration, but it was just a plain ceramic mug.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He set his cup unevenly on some papers on the corner of the coffee table. He unfolded the chair, took a seat, and rescued his mug.

  “What do ye think, lass? Will ye take care of my collections?” he asked.

  I smiled after I took a sip of the creamy hot chocolate. He must have already had a kettle on. “I don’t know what that really means. It looks like a pretty big job.”

  “Aye, ’tis.” He looked around. “But ye have tae understand its importance. The truth is important.”

  When he didn’t continue, I cleared my throat and asked, “And what is the truth? Is there a Loch Ness Monster?”

  He looked at me with eyes that verged on fierce. “Oh, lass, of course there is. There might be more than one, mind. And, it’s important tae never forget, never let anyone forget. More proof must always be searched for.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again, as I silently debated the best route to take. Finally, I said, “Norval, would you mind starting from the beginning? Of course, I’ve heard of Nessie, but I’d like to know what sparked,” I looked around, “all of this. If you have proof that Nessie exists, I’d really like to know the story, your story, from the beginning, if you don’t mind.”

  He took a sip from his mug and looked at me over its brim. He swallowed and then nodded.

  “Aye, I think I’ll tell ye. It’s not what ye expect.”

  “Even better.”

  He paused again, purposely prolonging the drama, I thought. Then, surprising me, his eyes clouded and filled with tears. He composed himself before he looked at me again.

  “She killed my da, lass, took him from me, took him from us all,” he said, his words shaky but certain.

  I held my breath and hoped he would continue.

  FOUR

  He did continue, and his voice was strong, his tone so heartfelt I could feel the anguish in his words from the very first one.

  “My da and mother and sisters, we lived in a village by Loch Ness. Wikenton. ’Twas during World War II, and Da couldna fight, ye see, because he had holes in his eardrums.”

  “How much war activity did you see in a village by Loch Ness?” I asked, though I felt like that was something I should already know.

  “We covered our windows in blackout curtains, lived with rations, the sirens, the planes,” he pointed a finger toward a long-ago sky, “went by overhead. Sometimes drills, sometimes the real thing.”

  “Was it frightening?”

  “Aye, sometimes with the sirens, but most of the time it was just the way we lived. My parents were lovely people. They took good care of us. Weel, until … I’m getting off track.”

  “My fault. I’m sorry for interrupting. I’ll try to be quiet.”

  “Oh, no, lass, dinnae be quiet. I like tae remember. My mind just goes back and forth so much these days.”

  “Take your time.” I sipped the hot chocolate.

  “Aye.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “It was so, so dark that night. We had tae keep the lights oot, aye? Weel, there was no rain. No moon either, but clouds enough tae cover the stars. I couldnae sleep, and I’d been inside most the day. Cooped up because of the weather and the war. It was unnatural tae be inside so much but that’s the way it was. Anyway, I was a wee lad of seven and I was too independent for my own good, according tae my mother. That night I needed tae get oot of the hoose. I climbed down from the loft I shared with my sisters and left, stepping out into a darkness so thick I had tae stand by the front door a few minutes before my eyes could catch even layers of shadows.

  “I knew where I wanted tae go. I knew the path, I knew every path all around. It was home, even oot there in the darkness, next tae the water, it was home. I was sure-footed, and too sure of myself. Nevertheless, I didnae so much as spark a lunt,” he caught my raised eyebrows, “a match, tae light the way.” I nodded and he continued again. “I tripped once or twice, but only stumbles, as I made my way through the trees tae the loch.” He paused again. “Lass, have ye ever seen water in the pitch dark of a night?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve seen water at night, twinkles from t
he moon and stars and lights around it, but not in a pitch-black night.” I thought about the view from Tom’s house by the North Sea. The water at night always left me unsettled.

  “As used tae it as I was, for it had always been there right outside my front door, it was and still is something that leaves me feeling hollow inside. Aye?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Like if ye fell in, ye’d just keep falling forever. Anyway, I stepped oot from the trees, and that’s what I expected tae see, the same sort of scene I’d come on before, a black, smooth, never-ending dark. And at first, that’s what was there. Just dark.” He looked at me.

  I nodded.

  “But then, there was a noise. A rustle, and a voice, I was sure. I was startled, but I’d been well trained tae keep quiet because of the war, mind, and my hand sprung up to cover my surprise. I stepped back and moved behind a tree. I couldnae run even though I ken I should hurry back home, back tae the loft with my sisters, but I just couldnae. I was too curious.

  “Soon, I recognized the voice, or I thought I knew it, even if it was part whisper. It was my da. He was somewhere near the shore, talking to someone. I was relieved and then even more curious. Why was he outside too?

  “He carried a weapon on him and was careful, so I didnae want tae startle him too much. I worked up my nerve, because I was scairt tae let him know I was there, oot where I shouldnae be, accidentally spying on him.

  “‘Da,’ I said in a voice just above a whisper. ‘Da, it’s me, Norval.’

  “It was what I heard in the next few seconds that I remember the most. A surprised noise from Da, hasty words spoken by him, and … and a moan, a groan, that didnae sound human. It didnae, lass.”

  “I believe you,” I said, because it felt like the right thing to say.

  “And then there was a splash. That’s what brought me oot from around the tree. In a hurry, I came ’round, wondering if Da fell into the water, but his dark figure was there tae meet me before the shore. He grabbed me and pulled me close.

  “‘Lad,’ he said, ‘are ye awright? Yer mother and sisters?’ ‘Fine, Da,’ I told him. ‘I … needed tae get oot of the hoose.’ He pulled me close and said he understood.”