“Aye.” She squeezed Edwin’s hand. “I’m fine, but, Edwin, we just met that poor man two nights anon. He cooked us dinner.”
Edwin looked at me. It hadn’t even occurred to any of us to tell Edwin about the dinner. I nodded.
“Oh dear,” he said when I gave him a quick summary. “I’m so sorry.”
Rosie shook her head and then looked at me. “Do ye think one of the people from the dinner kil’t him? Do you think we were in the same hoose as the killer?”
I had no idea. “No, no, Rosie, he worked for the government. It’s something political, I’m sure.”
I wasn’t sure about anything, of course, and more questions were filling my head. Was there something else going on, or was meeting Mary and attending the dinner all a coincidence?
After dropping off Rosie that night, Tom and I had discussed the party. I told him what I’d noticed about Mikey and Henry and Mikey and Dina. He hadn’t seen any of that and then I’d quickly forgotten about it. Mostly, we’d both just been intrigued by the birthmark and its label of “proof.”
“I dinnae ken,” Rosie said. “There was tension in the air. I couldnae understand why, and it felt like none of my business anyway, but there was strain there. Did ye sense it?”
“I did, but I couldn’t figure it out either. We were the strangers though. They all knew each other. Who knows what’s going on in their lives?”
“And now that lovely man is dead.” More tears came to Rosie’s eyes, but she didn’t swoon.
“Hang on,” Hamlet said suddenly.
We all looked at him.
“Oh, no,” he said, but he’d fallen into his own thoughts. He looked up a moment later. “Rosie, I don’t want to upset you further, but something just occurred to me.”
“It’s all right, lad. G’on.”
“The queen. Mary, Queen of Scots. Her second husband was killed—in an explosion. His name was Henry Stuart. I believe his title was Lord Darnley.”
“Oh, my,” Rosie said. “That’s … unbelievable.”
“His name was Henry?” I said.
“Aye,” Hamlet said. “I think so.”
“Gracious. Wait, wasn’t it alleged that the queen’s lover killed him?” Edwin said.
“It was,” Hamlet said. “I think … well, I haven’t read about Mary Stuart in quite a few years,”
As Hamlet reached for a laptop he kept perched on a back shelf, I had another thought.
“Rosie, do you think we should call Inspector Winters and tell him about the dinner party?” I said.
“I do, lass. I dinnae ken if it will do any good, but I think we should talk tae the police.”
“I’ll call him right now.”
I found my phone and pulled up the favorites screen. I kept thinking a day might come when I wouldn’t need to keep the police inspector toward the top of my call list. However, that day wasn’t today.
TEN
Unfortunately, I ran into an immediate roadblock. I’d called Inspector Winters’s personal number, because that was the one he’d given me. It seemed he was on holiday. As his greeting continued, stating that he’d be away for a week or so, I debated whether or not to leave a message. Ultimately, I decided not to.
“Ye didnae leave a message,” Rosie said when I disconnected the call.
“He’s on vacation,” I said. “I didn’t want to bother him.”
For a moment Rosie looked bothered, but shortly she nodded. “Aye, I understand. Should we call another officer, perhaps just the police’s number?”
“Should we?” I said.
The four of us sat and thought about it a moment. Did we want to tell the police that we’d gotten weird vibes at a dinner Henry had cooked for us the night before he was killed? Also, Henry was a councilor and it seemed feasible that there might be a councilor or two out to make sure the bookshop was shut down, though none of us were sure who those particular councilors were. Our unspoken, but surely shared insights and concerns, suddenly seemed threadbare and potentially shone a suspicious light on all of us.
“Maybe not yet,” Rosie said. “We have no proof of anything. I might be jumping to conclusions.”
“We should let the police do their jobs,” Edwin said.
“Aye,” Hamlet added.
“I agree,” I said.
For now.
I stood and made my way to the front of the store. I needed to gather my thoughts, calm down, something. I turned and looked back toward my friends. They had each fallen into their own thoughts, but they were going to be okay.
It had been a tragic couple of days, not just for Henry and his loved ones, but for the city of Edinburgh too. A bomb set off in a public place left sadness, anger, and fear behind. I’d always been one not to let fear rule my behavior, but as I looked out the window, I was grateful for the sense of security I felt inside the shop. It was all an illusion, I knew that. Anything can happen at any time. Bad things happened all the time, and usually when you least expected them. But I refused to live my life being worried about those sorts of things.
Nevertheless, I didn’t push away the sadness and anger. Someone was messing with my bookshop, and now with my adopted city.
A shiver ran up my spine. Perhaps I was experiencing some sort of shock or coping mechanism. Or maybe the dreary rain outside made me cold. There were no bookish voices speaking—in fact, as I listened for them, I sensed they were too sad to speak.
Maybe I didn’t want to focus on the fact that a man who had cooked me dinner two nights ago was now dead, brutally murdered. I grabbed an umbrella from the shelf and turned around. “I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back.”
Edwin, Rosie, and Hamlet all looked at me with questioning eyes.
“Of course,” Edwin said. “Take whatever time you need.”
“Be safe,” Rosie said.
“Do you want company?” Hamlet asked, but he knew the answer. He was just being polite.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be back.”
I pushed through the door as I slid open the umbrella. It was cold and I hadn’t grabbed my jacket. At least I’d worn a sweater, and I sensed I would warm up quickly.
The Royal Mile had been blocked off until just a couple hours earlier. The newscasters had announced that other than a small area, foot and vehicle traffic was being allowed back in.
I could have walked up Victoria Street and then down to the bottom of the Royal Mile; that route would have taken me past Tom’s pub. Instead, I glanced toward it briefly before I hurried over the market square to where I knew a bus would be coming shortly. My timing was good and I didn’t have to wait even a full minute before I boarded the bus that would at least get me up to the top of the Royal Mile.
“Hello,” a voice said from behind me as I sat down. “Delaney, is it?”
I turned quickly. “Oh. Hello!”
“Fancy meeting you here,” Eloise said.
I nodded and frowned. “I’m…”
“Going to look at where it happened?” She said without much of a question to her tone. “Me too. Mary called me a couple hours ago with the news that Henry had been identified. I’m gutted.”
I nodded again. “I’m so sorry.”
“I canceled patients. I’ve never done that. I had to get some air. It’s so awful.”
“May I join you?”
“Certainly.”
I moved to the seat next to her. If we knew each other even just a tiny bit better I would have put my arm around her or hugged her once quickly.
Instead, Eloise nodded at me once sadly as the bus made it to the top of Victoria and waited to turn onto the Royal Mile.
“Is Mary okay?” I asked.
“Oh, no, not at all. I stopped by her house first and gave her something to calm her down. She’s not one for medication but she’s distraught. She’s probably still sleeping.”
“I’m sure it’s terrible for her.”
“It’s so very bizarre and unreal.”
“H
e was a lovely man,” I said, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I had a million questions about Henry Stewart, but this wasn’t the time or the way to ask them.
“He was,” she said. She grimaced and hit her thigh with her fist. “He’s made enemies though. I kept telling him to quit wanting to change so many things.”
“Do you mean in his position as councilor?”
“Aye. He kept wanting to make the city a better place, at least better in his eyes. He was so used to running the show. Used to spend his days at the bank telling everyone else what to do, and they had to listen to him there. He never learned how to tread lightly because he didn’t have to. Gracious, he angered some people.”
I waited a good long few beats with the hopes that she’d continue. She didn’t.
“Like who?” I finally asked.
“So many! That strange thing with the Burgess Tickets. What in the world was he doing, trying to bring back that old antiquated idea? And trees! He spearheaded cutting down some old trees to make a walking path easier. He knew how to work the system and the vote on those trees was sneaky, I tell you. I told him too.”
Over the last couple of days, Edwin had mentioned both of the contentious items Eloise was talking about. Henry had been shaking things up. I’d been in a wedding haze and then on a honeymoon. Maybe all of this had come to a head while I was gone. I didn’t quite understand the timing of everything, and I wasn’t ready to tell her about the bookshop’s predicament.
“Eloise, how long had he been a councilor?”
“He was starting his second year.”
“What were his political aspirations?”
“Nothing beyond what he was doing. He didn’t want to be Lord Provost. He didn’t want a higher position. He knew he could get things done at his level.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Well, he certainly must have gotten under someone’s skin,” she said. Her fist clenched again, but she didn’t pound it this time.
“Did you talk to the police?” I asked.
“Did I? No. Mary has, of course, but there’s no reason I should.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you can remember something that might help them with a lead, if they don’t have one, or some, already.”
“Hmm. You might be right.” She sat up straighter. “Here’s our stop.”
We exited the bus together. I was glad I was there—I was glad she was there.
Though there was no vehicle or body in the vicinity, the crime scene was buzzing. Officials were walking around in their white coveralls, some taking pictures, some taking measurements, some just looking at the destruction. The road and a streetlight had been damaged but it seemed the surrounding buildings were intact. Traffic was getting through, but slowly and as a police officer directed. We weren’t far from Inspector Winters’s police station and I thought again about leaving him a message.
Despite what had already been removed, the destruction and disruption at the scene was still shocking.
“Oh, my,” I said quietly to myself.
“It’s terrible,” Eloise said. “I’m glad the auto is gone, but it’s so…”
“Unreal,” I said.
“Aye, and traumatic.”
From behind a widely cordoned off area and for a long few minutes, we silently watched the police and the technicians work.
“Maybe it had something to do with Mary,” Eloise said, breaking the silence.
“Mary? Why?”
She looked at me. “People either love or hate her, Delaney. She’s sure she’s a reincarnation of the queen. She doesn’t keep it a secret. And then she goes around telling people she has proof and it’s no more than a silly birthmark. People find her strange.”
I shook my head. “Why would anyone care about any of that enough to kill Henry?”
“I don’t know. Maybe this was to get back at her. The queen’s second husband was killed in an explosion, did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe this was some sort of sick act from someone who thinks Mary deserved it. If she’s the queen, she should experience the same tragedies and such.”
I blinked at Eloise. So far, she’d mentioned that both Mary and Henry had enemies. It seemed the suspect list could be long. “Well, her husband being killed in an explosion is only one of her many tragedies. I hope you’re not onto something.”
“Aye, it would be a terrible tragedy to see Mary beheaded.”
I blinked at her again.
Eloise put her fist to her mouth. “I honestly can’t believe I just said such a thing. Please forgive me.”
“Of course,” I said.
But it would have been impossible for me not to hear a thin thread of sarcasm in her voice. No, I would have to just let that go. She hadn’t meant it.
“Wasn’t it the queen’s next husband, her third, the person ultimately accused of killing her second husband?”
“Something like that. Conspiring to and such.”
“Is there someone out there who might fit the role as our Mary’s next husband?”
“Is she having an affair? I don’t think so,” Eloise said. “I really and truly don’t think so.”
Of course, Mary, Queen of Scots, also denied an affair.
I caught the eye of someone looking at us. She was very tall and dressed in the white crime-scene coveralls, and even though her head was hooded and she was a good distance away, I could see the scrutiny in her gaze.
“I think I’m done here,” Eloise said. “I should get back to my patients.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Eloise smiled at me and suddenly her severe haircut didn’t seem so severe. “You’re lovely, Delaney, but no, I think I can handle it. I’m pleased we ran into each other on the bus though.”
“Me too.”
“I suspect we’ll be in touch. Once you’ve befriended Mary, you’ve befriended all her circle. Don’t fight it, that’s just the way it is.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. Goodbye, dear.”
I watched her walk up the hill a half block before she caught another bus. I turned back around to look for the tall woman in the coveralls, but she wasn’t in the same spot.
I only stayed another few minutes as I thought about the strange royal history and my new friends. Other than martyr, I didn’t think I’d heard any word about the queen mentioned as much as “tragedy.” There had been so much of it for her. But it had been a tragic, violent time. What the queen experienced went with the territory, I supposed.
The rain stopped and I decided to walk back to work, maybe stop by the pub for a moment on the way.
I wasn’t sure why I had needed to see where the car had exploded, but Eloise hadn’t asked for an explanation. I was glad, and I understood her curiosity too. It had been an unreal sequence of events, but even though Henry’s car was no longer there, seeing where the explosion had occurred hadn’t left me with any doubts. I wished it hadn’t happened, but if it had, I needed to make sure it was real. It was.
On the way back to the bookshop, a twinge of curiosity about the tall woman came to mind, but only briefly. I forgot all about her by the time I made it down Victoria.
ELEVEN
“She mentioned the beheading and everything?” Tom said.
“Yes, but she apologized for bringing it up.”
“These sorts of tragedies can cause stress.” Tom was working hard at being sympathetic, but the circumstances of me running into Eloise bothered him.
There was a murder, after all.
“I chalked it up to stress.”
We sat on the couch of our small cottage. It was a rare evening that Tom wasn’t at the pub. He’d come home early because of the upsetting days, leaving his employee Rodger in charge. Rodger, a sworn bachelor, had demanded that Tom go and spend time with me. It hadn’t taken much convincing.
“One of my customers follows the council votes closely. He mentioned th
at he liked Henry, admired him, but he had been pushing hard to bring back the Burgess Tickets and that the old-fashioned notion was creating some strife within the ranks, but it wasn’t anything that should have led to murder.”
“Eloise brought those up too. She said he’s been pushing for many things, in maybe a too-pushy way. Do you think he’s the one who wanted the bookshop closed? And why would he?”
“No idea. He didn’t seem pushy in the least at the dinner.”
“He seemed the opposite of that. Tom, do you think it was all some setup? I mean, did Mary come to the shop and invite us to the dinner on purpose? Though I can’t figure out why in the world she would do that.”
“It’s a possibility, but she couldn’t manipulate the fact that you two look so much alike. That’s just the way it is.”
“I thought about that too.”
“Delaney.” Tom frowned. “I hate to even bring this up, but now maybe the vote regarding the bookshop will be delayed. There might be more time to figure things out.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say that we all thought about that too. Before the bombing, Edwin had finally put in a call to the Lord Provost, but hadn’t heard back. Who knows if he will, and we all feel bad enough about Henry that we feel guilty about worrying about the bookshop’s fate, but we can’t help it. We also feel like we should be talking to other councilors or something.”
“That sounds like a big project.”
“I know.” I fell back into thought. “Maybe the fact that Mary and I look alike is totally random, just a bizarre coincidence.”
Tom squinted at me. “Honestly, lass, I don’t think so. I don’t understand what’s going on, but her timing of her first visit to the bookshop is curious. I’d like not to think so, but I can’t help it.”
“I love it when you talk all Scottish to me.”
He smiled. “I said, ‘lass.’ I can do even better than that. Och, ’tis a bunchie of blashie we’re speaking, perhaps.”
“You just sounded so much like Elias.”
Tom’s smile turned back into a frown as he reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. “You love this cottage, don’t you?”
The Stolen Letter Page 7
