Lost Books and Old Bones

by Paige Shelton

  Reactively, I put my hand up in a halt motion. “Hang on. Daughter?”

  “Aye.”

  “Oh, I forgot about her too,” Edwin said. “She was skirted away after her mother was killed, moved into foster care.”

  “I didn’t read anything about a daughter,” I said, further shocked by this additional news.

  “Aye,” Edwin said.

  “How old was she?” I asked.

  “Thirteen or fourteen,” Rosie said.

  “What was her name?”

  “I remember exactly, because I’m a flower name too,” Rosie said. “Lily. ’Twas Lily.”

  I wanted to look her up. I wanted to find a picture. But I also wanted to call Inspector Pierce and give him the news of where the scalpels had come from.

  The door opened and three customers came in. The women were all about my age, and from my neck of the woods.

  “Is it okay to bring our drinks in? They’re just iced coffees,” one of the women said as she held up her cup.

  “If ye dinnae spill on anything,” Rosie said with a friendly smile.

  “Listen to that accent! Is that a real dog?” another woman said. “We’ll be careful, I promise.”

  “Aye,” Rosie said, and Hector, knowing his role well, smiled.

  The women fell under The Cracked Spine’s spell. They would enjoy their time in the shop, and Hector would enjoy their attention.

  “Come along, lass, let’s go back tae my office and make some calls. Do a little more research,” Edwin said quietly.

  Any other time, I would have approached and talked to the three women. Not today, though. Today, we had a killer to catch.

  EIGHTEEN

  “They all worked with Doctors Without Borders. Doctors Eban, Carson, Clacher, and Glenn, though he wasn’t a real doctor. The title stuck, even through all the horror he inflicted. They were friends and did a lot of good,” I said to Tom.

  He slid a glass of water over the bar. There were only a few other customers in the pub. It had been a long and late evening at the bookshop and it was good to be with my pub owner.

  “I remember Dr. Glenn’s murders, but I didn’t pay attention tae his life.”

  “Do you remember his daughter?”

  “No,” he said sadly.

  “Lily. I couldn’t find a picture. The Internet was going strong ten years ago, but the media must’ve respected her youthful age and her privacy and kept her picture out of the stories.”

  “That’s good, and probably wouldn’t happen now.”

  “Probably not. I did see pictures of all of the doctors when they were younger. I’m sure Dr. Glenn’s murders were devastating in so many ways. In fact, I wonder if the fierceness and mistrust I saw in Dr. Carson came more from that time than any other. The pictures I saw of her from back then were … she was so naturally happy, with big smiles.”

  “You think she’s not that way anymore?”

  “I only talked to her briefly, and she might have just not liked me or suspected me of something, but she’s not like the pictures I saw. Not anymore.”

  “Do you think she was just sad about Mallory?”

  “I’m sure she was sad, but no, I was seeing something different.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “I talked to both Inspectors Pierce and Winters, though Pierce had already started putting things about Dr. Glenn together. They were very glad to have the information, and Inspector Pierce came to the bookshop, talked to Rosie—and she insisted that no attorney be present. I don’t know where it will go from here, but he was there a long time. We all talked about Dr. Glenn, what was either remembered or whatever research we found.”

  “Did Winters come in?” Tom asked.

  “No, it’s not his case. They are part of the same precinct, but Pierce works from a satellite office up by the castle. Winters wasn’t in on the case at the beginning. He’s brought himself up to speed, but I sense that he doesn’t want to get in Pierce’s way. I talked to him on the phone. He told me he can’t find anything about a case of missing books from the university either.”

  “Something must be ringing a bell for him.”

  “That’s what he said. Now, he thinks he overheard another officer on a phone call, just answering some questions, not filing any official report. He’s trying to remember which officer, and then that officer has to remember the call. He’s not giving up.”

  “He’ll figure it out.”

  I took a drink of the water. “I have another thought.”

  Tom leaned toward me, his elbows on the bar, his eyes locked on mine. He knew that what I wanted to say was important; he was giving me his full attention.

  Would his full attention ever not disarm me? Despite being tired to the bone, and off-kilter because of the many terrible circumstances surrounding me, I swooned a tiny bit.

  I cleared my throat. “So. Lily. She was thirteen when her father killed her mother. She was placed into foster care. In Glasgow.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sophie and Rena are from Glasgow.”

  “Do you think that they might know Lily, or do you think one of them is Lily?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. They’re too old to be her if they’ve told me their true ages. I just don’t know. Rena said the books came from her father. Maybe … I just don’t know.”

  Tom thought a long moment. “Goodness, if Glenn has resurfaced. Wow.”

  “Exactly. I think it’s a possibility.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Me too.”

  Tom stood up straight again. “I can’t believe Rosie bought the scalpels at a jumble sale.”

  “I know. Did you know her husband, Paulie?”

  “Aye, Paulie was sweet and kind, as you might imagine would be perfect for Rosie.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know about him.”

  “It wouldn’t be like Rosie tae talk about him. Too sad for her. She and Regg are happy.”

  “I don’t think they’re talking marriage, but yes, they’re happy.”

  “Good.”

  “Tom, lad, another one?” one of the customers said as he lumbered up to the bar.

  “Sorry, Mel, last call’s a while ago.”

  “Aw,” Mel said.

  Tom whistled. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him whistle before, and a smile pulled at my lips. “You’re not driving tonight, are you, Mel?” he said.

  “No sir. Cab all the way.”

  “Coffee first?” Tom reached around to the coffeepot and poured Mel what I knew was a cup of extra-strong coffee. After he made sure Mel took a sip, he moved back toward me.

  “Do me a favor,” he said.

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t go visit Dr. Eban alone again, even if you meet him somewhere on campus.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tom eyed Mel as he took the coffee to a table by the front window.

  I couldn’t resist any longer. “Whistle again. Please.”

  He looked at me with that smile and those cobalt eyes before he sent me a brief whistle. All the time I’d been in Kansas living a good life, this guy had been here, living an equally good life. Though the moments were fleeting, every once in a while I was sure I felt the presence of fate, or destiny. This was one of those moments.

  And then it was mostly gone, except for a tiny piece of it. This had been happening more and more frequently: pieces of fate and destiny taking up residence in my heart.

  I sighed, but didn’t want to say out loud what I thought was happening or had happened. We’d expressed our feelings. And I still believed in jinxes.

  “No more murder talk tonight?” I said.

  “Sounds good tae me.”

  NINETEEN

  “Delaney, hey,” Lola said as she opened the door.

  She’d seen me step out of Elias’s cab and approach the building. We’d waved to her through her window, but I wondered if she’d open the d
oor. The look on her face had been more perturbed than welcoming.

  “Thanks,” I said as I came through and she shut the door behind me.

  “You here to see Sophie and Rena?”

  “I am.” That had been my plan. I hoped they would talk to me.

  “They aren’t here, but I know where you can find them. They were dressed up when they left so I asked what the special occasion was.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “Church. A memorial service.”

  “For Mallory?”

  “No, that’s not today. This one is for the medical school corpses.”

  “The corpses! I forgot.”

  “They invited you?”

  “Yes, kind of. Where is it again?”

  “Greyfriars Kirk.”

  “Want to come with me?”

  Her eyes slanted once quickly back toward her flat.

  “Oh, did I disturb company? Sorry,” I said.

  “No, I’m just working on a project. I need to quit watching the door so much.”

  She looked down at the ground as I looked at her.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She looked up and forced a smile. “Sure. I just let schoolwork get piled up again.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated, but she didn’t jump in with anything. “Thanks for letting me in, and for the reminder. I would have forgotten about the service.”

  “Sure.” She turned and went back into her flat.

  I hurried out of the building, but by the time I could see her window, the curtain was closing. Was she just tired of watching the door, or was there someone else in there she didn’t want to be seen?

  None of my business, but her eye slant had set off some internal alarms. Had I sensed she was scared? I hesitated, but decided I was probably working too hard to read something that wasn’t there, into everything. I hurried back out to the cab. Elias had waited, because I wasn’t sure if Rena and Sophie would welcome my visit.

  “That was quick,” Elias said as I opened the cab door. “They didnae want tae talk tae ye?”

  “Do you have time to take me to Greyfriars Kirk?”

  “We’re going tae church?” he said doubtfully. Aggie made him go to church much more than he would have liked.

  “A service for the corpses the medical school uses.”

  “Aye? Will the corpses be there?”

  “Oh. I hope not. No, no, that wouldn’t be feasible. It’s a service to honor them and their families.”

  “Awright. Let’s go.”

  I’d been to the church and the graveyard and past Greyfriars Bobby a number of times. A statue honoring a famous dog had been placed in front of the church on Candlemaker Row. Rosie passed it every day, either on the bus or if she exited the bus early and walked the rest of the way to work. She frequently mentioned that she and Hector had stopped to have “a wee bit of the blather” with Bobby, the statue.

  The most popular story about the once stray Skye terrier begins with his faithful companion John, a gardener who came to Edinburgh but couldn’t find a job and had to switch careers. John became a night watchman with the police force, and he and the stray dog would patrol the cobblestoned streets together. When John died of tuberculosis he was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard, the graveyard next to the church. Bobby, ever faithful, refused to leave his master’s grave. Even after the dog had been thrown out of the graveyard, he snuck back in. He would leave the gravesite only when the one o’clock bell rang at the Edinburgh Castle. Then Bobby would trot to the coffee-house he and John had frequented, where he was fed a meal. The dog was taken care of for the rest of his life—locals continued to feed him and the Lord Provost paid for his license fee when a law was passed that all unlicensed dogs were to be destroyed. The engraved tag is in the Museum of Edinburgh; I’ve seen it. Baroness Angelia Georgina Burdett-Coutts had the statue and fountain erected in 1873. I learned all this from Joshua.

  There were other less popular versions of the story that cast Bobby as a stray who was well loved by everyone, but didn’t patrol the night streets with John. I, like everyone else, liked the version that included the night watchman much better, but no matter which story was true, it seemed the dog was certainly adored.

  “There’s someone pulling out now.” I nodded toward the small car that had been parked not far from the church.

  “What do ye call it? Parking karma?” Elias said.

  I laughed. “Yes.”

  “We have guid parking karma today.”

  “I’ll take it wherever I can get it.”

  “Aye.” Elias angled the cab perfectly into the spot. “Are we here tae pay our respects or spy on people?”

  “Both, I suppose. I think it’s a lovely gesture, and anyone who donates his or her body to science is worthy of respect.”

  “But ye actually want tae just spy on folks?”

  “Right.”

  Elias laughed. “Awright, I can handle that.”

  The ghosts of Edinburgh and I had developed an interesting relationship. I wasn’t completely sure I’d had a haunted Scottish adventure, but all my friends were convinced that I’d met a few ghosts last Christmas. I wasn’t ready to accept that version as truth, but it was difficult to explain it any other way. There’d been other moments too, though less vivid than my Christmas experience.

  I’d visited the graveyard a few times since moving to Edinburgh, always with the hope I’d sense something ethereal. One of the oldest buildings to survive from Old Town, Edinburgh, the church and its graveyard were undeniably spooky, and many had claimed to have seen a ghost or two there.

  I wasn’t one of them. My time there had been peaceful and calm. I enjoyed the setting, but I’d yet to be haunted in or by it. However, I’d always let any listening spirits know that I was open to the idea.

  Elias and I hurried through the front wrought-iron gate and toward the church’s entrance. We slowed as we opened the wide double doors, and I looked toward the cemetery, green and peaceful with rows of a variety of old gravestones, but no ghosts to be seen.

  The church building was used for more than just religious services, so there were no pews. Instead, purple-cushioned folding chairs had been set up in even rows, leaving an aisle down the middle. Massive organ pipes had been attached to the wall above the doors, and were vibrating with a quiet but not overly melancholy tune.

  The light streaming in from the stained-glass windows above the sanctuary gave the space a warm glow without casting shadows or giving off glare. Tall archways ran along the length of the building and a magnificent redwood ceiling made the acoustics perfect for today, or for the occasional loud concert.

  “Do ye ken that the town council once used this place for gunpowder storage?” Elias whispered as we stalled inside the doors.

  “I did not know that.”

  “Aye.” He shrugged. “Of course, the inevitable happened and the place blew, but it was nicely rebuilt.”

  “I agree.”

  “Should we sit?”

  “Sure.”

  From the rear of the church it was difficult to recognize anyone, so I just picked a side and led Elias to some back-row seats. Once there, I noticed who was at the pulpit. Dr. Eban. If the police suspected him of anything, they hadn’t arrested him yet.

  “It is with honor and deep gratitude that we bid farewell tae those who have helped us learn their most hidden mysteries. They have served their country and their countrymen, and that cannot be minimalized. Thank you tae them and tae their families. We honor them today.”

  “We havenae missed much,” Elias said.

  “No.”

  Dr. Eban continued to speak as I looked around. It didn’t take me long to spot Rena and Sophie. They were two of the more emotional attendees, dabbing at their eyes and noses with tissues.

  I also spotted Dr. Carson, front and center, her straight back and regal gray hairstyle giving me the impression that she was at full attention as she listened to her husband.

  Th
ough most attendees were dressed in nice clothes, I spotted only a few here and there dressed in black.

  “And, if you’ll all indulge me, I’d like tae take one extra moment. The medical school experienced a terrible tragedy earlier this week.” Dr. Eban paused and cleared his throat. I zeroed in on him and studied his body language. “Mallory Clacher, a fine student, was brutally murdered.” He paused again as sniffles moved through the church, the acoustics giving them an eerie tone. Dr. Eban’s emotion sounded genuine. He looked truly upset by the murder; I didn’t think he was faking it. In fact, as I looked closer, I saw that he was shaken much more deeply than I would have guessed he’d have been. I wished he’d quit doing things that made me like him. “We would be remiss if we didn’t take this moment tae bid her goodbye as well.”

  I pulled my gaze off him as he paused to gather his emotions, and I leaned forward to better see Rena and Sophie. They were both still dabbing and sniffing, but now with deeper emotion. Their pain was unquestionably genuine. I felt like I was intruding, so I sat back again and looked at Dr. Carson. Her back was still stick-straight, but her attention was no longer focused forward, toward her husband. Instead, she looked down and to the side, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him as he spoke. I couldn’t tell if she was crying, but I watched as her shoulders shook twice before she steeled her posture again.

  I did a quick estimation and thought there were at least a hundred people in attendance. Many of them weren’t emotional, but stoic. I saw a few sad smiles when Dr. Eban read through the names of those who were being laid to rest.

  “Leuks like he’s wrapping up,” Elias said when the list was finished. “Do ye want tae talk tae anyone or get out before they see ye?”

  “Perhaps just to give condolences. I’d actually like to talk to them about other things, but I think the timing is bad.”

  “I’ve got yer back.”

  “Thanks.”

  We stalled by the doors as people filed out. Dr. Carson was one of the first toward the door. She stopped when she saw me.

  “I know who you are,” she said.

  I opened my mouth to say something, though I wasn’t sure what, but she continued before I could speak.

  “There’s no need tae have lied. I know you met Bryon at the pub the night Mallory was killed. Why didn’t you just say that?”