I fell into my own thoughts about the items I saw. There were so many things, and they did seem only to be trinkets, souvenirs, but maybe that was purposeful. Maybe there were other good things at Albert’s house with the tooth. Now that was something I’d like to see, but who wouldn’t? I’d try to work an appointment into the conversation before we left if it felt like the right thing to do.
We are only as blind as we want to be.
I jumped and gasped at the bookish voice. I covered the noise with a cough, and then I focused on the words Maya Angelou had said clearly in my mind.
Okay, Ms. Angelou, I understand. I’m missing something. I peered with more intent into the display case in front of me. It took a few seconds because there were so many things, but my eyes soon landed on the items I was sure the writer wanted me to see.
A deck of cards. The same deck of cards I’d seen the first day I met Norval. Or a deck just like that one. Yes, there was the same Nessie picture I saw on the back of the cards that Norval had dropped outside the church. I’d last seen the deck as Gavin slipped it into his pocket. I felt my heart start to beat faster, but I calmed myself quickly. Seeing these cards in the possession of another Nessie fanatic probably didn’t mean anything at all. Maybe it was, or at one time had been, a common deck of cards, sold in all the places that sell plaid scarves, shot glasses, and other Nessie souvenirs.
I squinted my eyes and looked at the artwork. I wished I’d researched it before now. Had they been designed in last mid-century as I suspected?
The shop was small enough that I wouldn’t be able to furtively take a picture with my phone and I didn’t want to tip my hand and ask Albert if it was okay to do so. But something told me—something other than Ms. Angelou—that I needed a picture of those cards.
I moved to another display case. I wasn’t going to show any more interest in the cards, at least not while Albert was in the room.
“Wow, can you believe all this stuff?” Wyatt said quietly as he came up beside me.
Of all the things I’d told him and Edwin in the car, I’d left out the particulars about the artwork on the deck of cards. I’d just said it was a Loch Ness Monster deck.
“It’s overwhelming.”
“Can we ask to see the tooth, this week before I go home?”
“We’ll definitely try.”
The conversation between Albert and Edwin seemed to be coming to a close as Wyatt and I sauntered back toward them.
“Albert,” I said when they looked at us. “I know you’re a chemist, but I’m not seeing any medicinal items for sale out here. Do you sell over-the-counter medications?”
“Some. Most of my work is as a compound chemist. I mix drugs based on special orders. What do you need?”
“Is there any chance you have some aspirin I could buy? I’ve got a headache coming on.” From where I stood, I couldn’t see any bottles of pills or powders in the front part of the shop.
Edwin’s eyebrows came together. I hadn’t been sick one day since coming to Scotland and I didn’t think I’d ever mentioned any aches or pains.
“Of course. Just back in my office. Wait a moment,” Albert said before he turned and walked around the shelves to the back.
It was evident that any anger we’d sparked had now mellowed. Edwin had smoothed Albert’s tone back to friendly.
I didn’t give Edwin a chance to ask about the alleged headache. Once I heard the door in the back close, I hurried to the cards and snapped a picture. I was easily back in my position in front of the counter by the time Albert rejoined us. Edwin and Wyatt had watched me silently.
Albert not only brought me the aspirin but a cup of water too. The cup was adorned with a Nessie picture. I smiled at the picture and thanked him.
“Albert, could we make an appointment to see the tooth?” I asked. I felt Wyatt nodding behind me.
“Aye, lass.” He looked back and forth between Edwin and me. “I’ll bring it tae you, at the bookshop. It’s been years since I’ve been there. Will that work?”
“Perfect. Thank you for doing that and for letting us look around today.”
I didn’t need the aspirin, but I took it anyway. If Gavin had been poisoned, I might have reconsidered.
Albert stood by the giant cash register and watched us leave, not accepting any money for the aspirin. We didn’t talk until we were out of sight of the shop.
“The tooth?” I asked first. “What did you make of it?”
“It’s a sharp tooth, but I suspect there are a number of non-mythological creatures it could have come from. I don’t know teeth well,” Edwin said.
“Hopefully, we’ll get to see it,” Wyatt said.
“Did you see the cuts on Albert’s hands?” I asked.
They both had, but they’d also both noticed that the cuts weren’t deep, just superficial scratches. I agreed.
“The cards,” I said. “They looked like the ones I returned to Norval. Gavin had them with him when he chased me down outside.”
“You remember Gavin holding them?” Edwin asked.
“Yes. I remember thinking in the back of my mind that he seemed surprised to have them. He’d probably grabbed them accidentally. And, if I remember correctly, the last time I saw them was as he put them in his pocket. Of course, I know that Albert Winsom displaying the same deck might mean nothing at all, but … well, it could be a clue, right?”
I also remembered that Nisa had asked me specifically about the cards. She’d said she just wondered if I’d managed to see Norval, but the question she’d used to get there was about the cards. I didn’t mention Nisa’s inquiry to Edwin and Wyatt.
“Sounds shaky, sis,” Wyatt said. “Both those guys are whipped about that monster. The deck might be something common, in the old days or even now. Besides, he said he has an airtight alibi, and I just can’t see…”
“I know, he doesn’t seem like he could do what needs to be done physically to stab someone.” I looked at Edwin. “Do you know when he had the stroke?”
“No idea. He hadn’t had it those years ago when he and I first met. I was sorry to see his condition, but he seems to be making the most out of it.”
“The cards probably don’t mean anything at all,” I said. “And, I have to admit, I kind of liked the guy.”
Edwin made a noise of agreement.
I looked at the picture I’d taken. “It might be a tenuous connection, but I’m calling Inspector Winters to tell him about the cards. This time with something more important than a closed dress shop, even if not by much.”
“Closed dress shop?” Wyatt and Edwin said together.
“I’ll tell you in a minute.”
I rang Inspector Winters’ phone but had to leave another message. I understood that he was a busy man, but I had to squelch some rising irritation. He might have seen my number and thought it was something frivolous again.
Though maybe that’s what it was: frivolous. I needed to research those cards, their value, their availability, as soon as I could. But for now, Edwin had another appointment for us to attend.
TWENTY-THREE
“Birk is doing some amateur theater. This is where he said tae meet him,” Edwin said.
I peered out at the King’s Theatre as he parked the car. “Edwin, this isn’t amateur. This is big time.”
“It’s a group Birk has been a part of for many years. I think this is their first opportunity to perform at King’s.”
Wyatt whistled. “I bet we find Mr. Shakespeare himself inside there.”
Edwin laughed. “In fact, the play is Richard III.”
Wyatt grumbled something from the back. He wasn’t a fan. I had a brief flashback to my high school days when I was given the role of Lady Macbeth. Wyatt had had to read lines to help me rehearse. At the time, he found many opportunities to mock the bard. He’d claimed to be damaged ever since, and broke out in hives whenever the word “sonnet” came up in conversation. Fortunately, that didn’t happen very often.
The King’s Theatre sat at the end of the street where Elias and Aggie, I, and their guesthouses resided. I walked, traveled in Elias’s cab, or rode a bus past the esteemed building almost every day.
An Edwardian theatre built back in 1905, opening in 1906 with a performance of Cinderella, it had stood the test of time, and it was one structure in Edinburgh that hadn’t burned down and required a rebuild. There weren’t many that could make such a claim. However, it had been remodeled in the 1950s. I’d heard that the powers that be were considering another remodel to “bring it back to its former glory” but I liked it just the way it was.
The gallery was made of three tiers, the tall stage ornate with wooden carvings framing the bright yellow curtain. I’d seen a production of The Wizard of Oz a few months earlier. My date had been Joshua, my friend who worked at the museum. Joshua was a young, brilliant postdoc, who knew something about almost everything. Like Hamlet, he’d become like a younger brother to me, as well as a museum buddy. Finding other people who liked to move slowly while reading everything through museums was rare. He and I moved at the same museum speed. While watching Dorothy’s adventures, he’d nudged me with his elbow every time the word “Kansas” was spoken. Aggie would have enjoyed the play too, but she’d been busy. Maybe I’d take her to see Birk perform.
Tom would have gone too, but I could tell theater wasn’t his favorite form of entertainment. Besides, he worked most nights. He liked Joshua too, and didn’t mind in the least that I’d gone with my twenty-one-year-old friend.
The front doors were unlocked and no one stopped us walking through the grand lobby and into the expansive auditorium.
Birk was center stage, playing the lead role of Richard III himself. Though perhaps a bit old for the part, he looked like he used makeup very well, even during plainclothes rehearsals. We only moved about halfway down the aisle before we sat, seemingly unnoticed by everyone else in the theater, including the other actors and three people sitting together in the middle who I assumed were the director and the producers.
Now is the winter of our discontent …
The actors were currently at a different point than the bookish voice in my head, but I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.
“Delaney.” Edwin nudged me lightly with his elbow.
“Yes,” I answered after a brief delay. “Sorry.”
“He’s not bad, is he?”
“No, he’s great!” I said, but I hadn’t really paid attention. I did now, and he truly was very good.
Wyatt sat on my other side, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Cut!” One of the three sitting in the middle stood up. Once everyone was silently looking at him, he turned to us. “These aren’t open rehearsals.”
“Sorry,” I said. “The door was unlocked.” I smiled up at a frowning Birk. “It was very good.”
“Nevertheless,” the director, I presumed, said.
“Right,” Edwin said as we stood.
“Hold on,” Birk said. “They’re friends. May I have a moment with them?”
The director wanted to say no, but instead he said, “Five minutes, and then we have tae get back tae it.”
“Of course,” Birk said in a tone that made it clear he would continue to do whatever he wanted to do and everyone else would have to deal with it.
“Edwin, Delaney, young man,” he said as he approached. I could see the line of the thick pancake makeup on his face.
“This is my brother, Wyatt,” I said.
“Ah, delighted to meet you.” Birk smiled and shook Wyatt’s hand like he truly meant it.
“You were very good,” I said.
A smile pulled at his mouth, but he wouldn’t give in to it. “Oh, I have much work tae do, but we will be ready for opening in two weeks, I have no doubt.” He looked around. “Come along. No one will be out in the lobby. We can talk there.”
We found four folding chairs leaning up against one of the decorative columns and gathered in a corner where we would be safe from eavesdropping.
“What’s going on?” Birk asked with a heavy eye-lined blink. He did look like the Richard III I had in my head.
Edwin blinked back. “You asked me tae stop by.”
Birk thought a moment. “Oh! I’m sorry. The play has my mind … anyway, aye, thank you for stopping by. I had tae let you know. We discussed how I’d recently been talking about Gavin MacLeod with someone, but couldn’t remember the details. I wasn’t sure if I should call the police, Edwin. I remembered who I was talking to, and I wanted tae talk tae you first…”
“Who, Birk?”
“Brodie Watson.”
“The writer?” Wyatt asked at the same time I thought it.
“Aye, one and the same.” Birk paused and gathered his thoughts, as the most dramatic of expressions passed over his well made-up face. “That article I read that mentioned some of Gavin MacLeod’s clients didn’t mention Brodie Watson, but I know for a fact that not only was Brodie a client, but he was upset with Gavin, very upset, saying things like he wanted to ‘kill him’ and such. He was angry, and I’m fairly sure he used those words. I just remembered all of this last night. It was a couple weeks ago. Brodie and I were … Brodie was drinking me under the table again. I tried to keep up with him, but it was a bad idea.”
“I understand,” Edwin contributed.
If Rosie were there, she would probably huff an agreement.
“I’m sorry it took me a few days tae remember; I’ve been so involved with the play, and I really drank so much that night,” Birk continued.
“Aye, you should tell the police,” Edwin said.
Birk bit his bottom lip. He looked at Wyatt, at me, and then at Edwin again. “Are you sure, Edwin?”
“Why not?”
Birk said, “I’ll be blunt. I hope that’s acceptable.”
“Certainly,” Edwin said.
“Hamlet, Edwin. Remember what Brodie did for Hamlet,” Birk said.
Edwin’s expression transformed. “I don’t know how, but I had all but forgotten. It’s been years.”
“But it’s still important, nonetheless.”
“The most important, maybe,” Edwin said.
“Aye, that’s what I was thinking. What Brodie did for Hamlet could trump the fact that he might have killed that horrible Gavin MacLeod.” Birk cleared his throat.
“What did Brodie Watson do for Hamlet?” I asked.
“It was years ago, when he was a lad hiding in bookshops,” Edwin said. “Brodie was visiting The Cracked Spine when Hamlet rushed in, after having stolen a wallet from a tourist. The police were right after him, but Brodie, seeing Rosie’s protective feelings for the boy, stepped up and talked the police into letting Hamlet off the hook. Not only did the wallet make it back to its owner, but it had double the amount of money inside of it than when Hamlet took it.”
“Oh. Well, that’s … I hadn’t heard that story,” I said.
“That was the beginning of us bringing Hamlet into the family. Brodie’s good will and his celebrity standing with the officers saved the day. Had he not been there, I’m sure Hamlet would have been taken away and we might have never really known what a wonderful lad he is.”
“You would have done the same for Hamlet if you’d been in the shop,” I said.
“I have no idea, lass,” Edwin said. “I’d tried tae be friendly tae him, but he was close tae being a lost cause. I might have given up on him. Brodie didn’t, and that was the chance Hamlet needed tae become the man he has become.”
“I see,” I said. But did that mean Brodie couldn’t also be a killer? If I’d learned anything at all it was that Edwin’s moral definitions were murky, not quite as clear as my Kansas farm upbringing.
Edwin lifted his hand as if to prevent any of us from asking the question I’d just thought. “Let me talk tae Brodie first. I feel like I owe him that much. And, we’ll not tell Hamlet about any of this for now. I don�
��t want to worry him.”
Yes, lots of Gavin’s clients were probably angry with him, but how many had sought out his great-uncle and given him a gift? And why would he have done that? Brodie Watson worked with Gavin; he had access to him if he wanted to talk to him. Unless Gavin quit seeing him, quit talking to clients. What had Brodie wanted to accomplish by talking to Norval? Just give him a book?
“How much do you think Brodie gave MacLeod to invest?” Edwin asked Birk.
Birk said the number aloud, and I felt my brother swoon in the chair next to me.
“Phew,” I said. “That’s a lot.”
“And that’s only the beginning,” Birk said. “He took that much at least from many others.”
“Will anyone get any back? Has anyone?”
Birk shrugged. “Who knows? I’m sure more investigations will be conducted, but they will take a long, long time, and I’m … dare I say, not disappointed, that the world will not have to deal with that man ever again.”
“That’s a wee bit harsh,” Edwin said.
Birk huffed. I didn’t add an opinion one way or another, though I personally thought the murder was tragic. However, if Gavin had taken that much money from me, I might feel differently. Even Edwin, who had more money than anyone else I knew, might be more unforgiving if someone had taken that much from him.
“Stolen money is a strong motive for murder. If Gavin’s clients were beginning tae see that their money, for all intents and purposes, was being stolen, any number of them might have been motivated to kill,” Birk said.
“With a Nessie-adorned knife?” I added.
“Aye, well, many knew Gavin and Norval were related, and Norval’s gained quite the reputation. It’s all very convenient, if you ask me,” Birk said.
“It does sound like that,” I said.
The Loch Ness Papers Page 15
