“Are ye worriet about yer or yer niece’s safety? If so, aye, ring the police immediately,” Elias said.
“I rang the Lord Provost, left him a message that I needed to talk to him about what Henry had been working on. I will tell him he can’t let a vote happen.”
“I think the Lord Provost will be hearing that from a few people, but thank you.”
Mary nodded and looked down, keeping her eyes away from my almost-matching ones.
“Do you want to come with us? Do you feel unsafe?” I asked. “You can stay with me if you’d like.”
“That’s lovely, Delaney, but no, I’m fine here. I can still talk to Henry here. Ta, though.”
It was difficult to leave her in such a state, but she made it clear she wanted to be alone. I hadn’t asked about anything lascivious between her and Mikey, but my mind had changed from that being a possibility. I hoped I wasn’t letting my sympathy change my instincts or suspicions.
Mary walked us to the door. I heard locks being set, the noise sounding so much more modern than a castle’s locks should sound.
As we got into the cab, Elias looked at me and said, “I hope it wasnae her. I hope she didnae kill Henry.”
“Me too, but I didn’t get a sense of that. Did you?”
“I dinnae ken what I got a sense of, but I dinnae trust her, or her niece’s husband. Probably not her niece either if I think aboot it, and I’ve never even met her.”
“I know. What a mess, huh?”
“Aye. Home?”
“Actually, back to the bookshop, if you don’t mind.”
“Not a t’all.”
THIRTY-ONE
“She’s sad, mourning,” Tom said as he reached over to my paper boat for one of the chips I hadn’t eaten. “She should probably let the police know about Mikey though, even if it leads to nothing.”
We were at our favorite takeaway; a small shop in Grassmarket close to both our places of work.
“I agree,” I said. “I know you didn’t notice the same things I thought I saw that night, but what were your thoughts about Mikey and Dina?”
“Mikey was quiet, Dina was lovely. That’s about all I got.”
“Mikey didn’t seem familiar to you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I recognize him from somewhere, and the fuzzy memory has a yellow raincoat attached to it.”
“It rains a lot here.”
“Why can’t I place him?”
“The councilors are in the news sometimes, maybe you saw his picture.”
“Maybe.”
We were sitting on stools at the small counter along the front window. It was rare that we managed to get a spot inside—simply because there were only three seats in the place. Sometimes we moved back outside to enjoy our fish and chips, sometimes we would walk around Grassmarket. Sometimes we’d take the food back to the pub. But atop a stool this evening, I enjoyed the break from the rest of the world. However, I could still see the bookshop at the end of the market, still open though Rosie and Hector would close in a few minutes. I tried to imagine something else in that spot. A convenience store, a souvenir shop, maybe even another takeaway. Tears came to my eyes, but I blinked them away. I didn’t have time to cry. I truly believed things were going to be okay, but until the vote was either canceled or over, I didn’t want to let down my guard.
“Lass,” Tom said as he wiped his fingers on the paper napkin. “It’s going tae be all right.”
“I really do think so too, but I’m not ready to relax.”
Tom’s eyebrows came together. “What has Inspector Winters said?”
“He’s on holiday. I called but didn’t leave a message. I couldn’t bring myself to bother him.”
Tom sat up a little straighter. “I think you’d better bother him. Put in a call. Either he’ll take it or he won’t. I think he can help sew up the last pieces of this puzzle of the vote. Just in case you need someone else on your side.”
I nodded and felt no need to argue. It suddenly seemed just fine to interrupt his vacation. “Makes sense.”
I pulled out my phone.
* * *
Rosie and Hector didn’t close on time because a storm hit. It was fierce and Rosie didn’t want to get drenched on her way to the bus. Her staying open worked out just fine though. Edwin, Hamlet, Tom, and I joined them and sat around the table in the back as we told Inspector Winters everything.
He had been on holiday, but he’d been home for a full two hours when I called. He’d said he was surprised he hadn’t heard from me earlier and that he and his family had very much enjoyed Ireland. His wife (I’d yet to meet her) had inquired a couple of times if I’d rung him.
As I’d tried to explain all the circumstances over the phone, he said, “Lass, I’ll meet you at the bookshop. This is too much to digest on the phone and I’ve a wee’un who wants my attention. I’ll be there shortly.”
I’d never met his family, but I thought he probably made a great father. He did as he said and met us all at the bookshop. He hadn’t shaved for a week and the beard slimmed his round face, reminding me of an artist’s beard, though somewhat shorter. I knew it would be gone when he had to resume being a police inspector. But between the beard and his casual clothing, Rosie told him she might not have recognized him and he might want to consider some undercover work at some point.
I thought it curious that he didn’t acknowledge the comment. Rosie and I shared a look. Maybe he’d already done undercover work.
“Have you received notices of the shop closing? There’s due process,” Inspector Winters asked Edwin. “Even beyond an inspection report, there are other procedures too.”
“Not one word,” Edwin said. “It makes no sense.”
Inspector Winters looked at his notebook on the table in front of him and then up at me. “You say the building inspector’s name is Dwayne Stover?”
“Yes.”
Back to Edwin. “Did you try to talk to the Lord Provost?”
“I did, left messages, but he’s not returned my calls.”
Back to me. “And you’ve spoken with his media relations person. Grace Graham?”
“Yes.”
“I know her. She’s good at what she does, but I’m not sure what power she holds,” Inspector Winters said.
“She works directly with the Lord Provost?” I asked.
“Aye, but not in a policy advisor capacity, not really. She’s his communications director. I’ll figure it out.”
“Do you know if the police have found anything pointing to Henry Stewart’s killer?” I asked.
“I’ll have to check, lass. Until you called, I had only heard a little about Henry. I didn’t know the bookshop was somehow a part of it.” He sent me a surprisingly friendly smile. “It looks like I’m going to have to stop taking vacations.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said.
“Not at all. If the vote had taken place while I was gone, I would have been disappointed. I’m glad you rang.”
You could feel the sense of relief fill the room. Yes, the vote was only one day away, but Inspector Winters was on the job. Everything was going to be fine.
The bell above the door jingled, but before anyone could move quickly enough to greet whoever was coming in, he hurried around to us, his bright yellow raincoat dripping all over the floor.
“Jack!” Edwin said as he stood. “Thank you for taking my late call, I’d like you to meet—”
“No time for that, Edwin, no time,” Jack McGinnis said. “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem, a big one.”
And just like that the sense of relief was washed clean away.
THIRTY-TWO
Jack McGinnis had been working hard. He’d pushed his way into every government official’s home that he could find. He’d talked to councilors. He’d even managed to talk to the Minister for Local Government, Housing and Planning—a position I hadn’t even been made aware of yet.
“There’s no stopp
ing the vote,” Jack said. “There’s no delaying it, but it’s probably going to be okay.”
“How can that be?” I said.
“Rules, regulations, procedures,” Jack said. “It can’t be taken off the docket.”
“But there was no inspection!” I said.
That’s when Jack reached into his back pocket. He’d rolled up some stapled pages so casually, as if they didn’t mean the end of the world as we all knew it.
He placed the papers on the table, smoothing them even as the corners still battled back. “That’s actually the bad news, and why it’s only probably going to be okay.”
Yes, the inspection was real, official, there was no doubt about it. We read it together and then we all took our turns inspecting it. And then, one by one, we marched up the stairs on this side of the shop, crouched at the top to look at the space where the wall had once been cut, a long time ago, to make way for the connection to the neighboring building. There was absolutely no sense that the connection was going to fail. Nothing was sinking, nothing crumbling. I even jumped up and down on it. It didn’t move.
However, there was a crack in the plaster. One, tiny, five-inch-long crack—that, by the way, seemed to get longer every time I looked at it.
The failure of the building was based upon this crack. There was a picture and everything! Someone had come in and done an inspection, even taken this picture, and no one had noticed.
Or maybe remembered.
“Edwin, I’m sure this didnae happen,” Rosie said several times, becoming less emphatic and more distraught each time she said it.
There came a point when we transitioned from being worried about the building to worrying about Rosie, mostly when Hector, atop her lap, barked at us to get our priorities straight.
“Rosie, it’s going to be fine,” Edwin said. “This isn’t your fault, love.”
She held her fist to her chin and nodded sadly. I’d never known her to have any sort of memory problems. In fact, she was the one who seemed to remember everything.
We’d all come back to the table and I grabbed the report. I’d memorized the part that Jack had highlighted, the part that had been stamped with a big red “fail” over it. There were other pages too, all with small print; legal stuff that reinforced the validity of this inspection.
Until the very last page, at the bottom. Because there was so much black print on the page, I hadn’t noticed the small, handwritten note, also in black.
“Hey,” I said aloud. “What’s this?”
Everyone looked at me.
“What?” Jack asked.
“There’s a handwritten note. The writing is so small, it almost just looks like a continuation of the typed print on the page.”
Either not noticing or not caring that it was rude, Jack grabbed the inspection from my hands. I had to restrain myself from grabbing it back.
“This is a copy. They wouldn’t give me the original, of course. Damn, I need a magnifying glass,” Jack said.
Hamlet reached to a drawer against the wall. He had a few magnifying glasses.
“Ta,” Jack said as he grabbed a glass from Hamlet.
Hamlet and I shared a shrug. At least Jack had said thanks to him.
“Huh.”
“For heavens’ sake, Jack, what?” Edwin said.
“It says, and I quote: ‘The young woman tending the shop wouldn’t let me go to the other side. She looks so much like Mary. I’ll have to come back.’”
We all exclaimed something along the lines of “What?”
I grabbed the report and glass from Jack.
“I was here when the inspector came by?” I said as I repeatedly read the small print. “I … I don’t remember it at all. No! I would remember it. I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“No, I don’t think you would have,” Edwin said.
“No,” Hamlet said.
“I think there’s something more important here,” Tom added. “Whoever came into the bookshop and allegedly conducted the inspection knew Mary Stewart, well enough to just say ‘Mary.’”
“And they thought it was important to communicate the fact that Delaney looked like her,” Hamlet added.
“Unbelievable,” I said.
“Well,” Edwin said as he looked at Jack. “I don’t understand everything going on here, but I think this was just a note to someone, and the inspector was an imposter, just someone who wanted to see the other side of this bookshop.” He looked at the inspection. “And somehow had access to official paperwork.”
“The warehouse is not a secret anymore, Edwin. If someone asks about it, we tell them. But not many people ask. I remember each and every one…”
Jack had taken off the raincoat and placed it over the back of a chair. He lifted it from the chair, noticing it was still wet, and moved it over to a small table we weren’t using. He sat down in the chair and looked at me intently.
“What, Delaney?” Rosie prompted.
No bookish voices had been talking, but pictures of memories had suddenly started flooding my mind.
Hector, again sensing who needed him the most, hopped onto my lap.
“Oh, no,” I said a moment later. The memories weren’t fuzzy this time. “About three months ago, there was a man dressed in a bright yellow raincoat, just like the one Jack wore tonight. It was just me and Hector that day, and it wasn’t raining. At first the man kept his gaze averted when I tried to talk to him. I just let him look around, tried not to bother him—and he definitely seemed bothered. He seemed to need to move closer to the shelves to read the books’ spines, he hummed to himself. I thought about offering him one of the magnifying glasses. I thought briefly about seeing if Hamlet was on his way in, but then I decided that the man wasn’t dangerous. Just odd. He climbed the stairs to look at the books up there. I let him be, but then he got quiet. I came around and didn’t see him. I wondered if he’d left and I didn’t notice. I just asked if he was okay. He popped upright, as if he’d been sitting in the corner—or now I think taking pictures probably—and he said he was fine. He asked if there were books on the other side of the door up there. I told him there weren’t. He asked what was there. I said there were just offices.” I looked at Edwin. “He didn’t ask specifically about the warehouse or I would have told him. I don’t just offer it up, I wouldn’t have given him a tour, but I would have told him.”
“Makes sense,” Edwin said. “What happened next?”
“He left.”
“What was the inspector’s name?” Hamlet asked Jack.
“No, no it doesn’t matter. Or maybe it matters, but…” I said. “The man who was here was Mikey Wooster. I have no doubt. He had dirt smudged on his face, but those eyes. I saw them and I remembered thinking how lovely they were. I remember him so clearly now. I don’t understand the act he was putting on, but there must be a reason he took the picture and forged the inspection. Was it just because I wouldn’t tell him what was on the other side?”
“No,” Tom said. “If he’d come in as Mikey Wooster, you would have given him more information, more details, as you would to any councilor who asked you questions. He wanted the bookshop, or to harm it in some way. I have no doubt.”
“The coins?” I said. “Did he want to try to find the Mary, Queen of Scots’ coins Edwin wouldn’t sell to Dina ten years ago?”
“Oh, lass,” Edwin said. “I found them. They were at my house, but I didn’t think they had anything at all to do with what we’re going through. No idea at all. I didn’t even think to let you know I found them. I’m sorry.”
“Why would ye?” Rosie said.
“You thought he looked familiar from the moment you met him,” Tom said.
“Hang on,” Inspector Winters said. “We need to get Inspector Buchanan here too.”
We watched as he moved to the front of the bookshop to make a call.
“If Mikey was posing as an inspector, this will of course change everything,” Jack said. “But an investigation will h
ave to happen. The vote can’t be stopped, but we will ultimately win, no matter the tally.”
“I’ve something I need to attend to,” Edwin said, surprising us all.
“What?” Rosie asked.
“What are you up to, Edwin?” Jack asked. “You can’t leave until Buchanan gets here.”
“I’ve an idea,” he said. “I’ll be in my office on the other side.”
“Edwin?” Rosie said. “What’s going on?”
Edwin stepped to Rosie. He took her hand and held it. “It’s going to be fine, love, but I’ve an idea. I think I know how to seal the deal, if that’s the proper expression.”
“All right. Let me know.” Tears came to Rosie’s eyes.
Hector jumped off my lap and back to Rosie.
“It’s going to be fine,” Edwin said as he hurried over to the dark side.
The rest of us looked at each other for a long moment. Hector couldn’t decide whose lap needed him the most.
THIRTY-THREE
It was a very late night. I hadn’t slept much the last few days, but I was so revved with adrenaline, I didn’t notice. Well, not much.
Inspector Buchanan showed up and we rehashed everything. Unfortunately, there was no proof that the inspector had been Mikey Wooster. There were no pictures of the man in the raincoat who had come in, just my word to go on. At least Inspector Buchanan had found Mr. Stover earlier that day. He was, indeed, an older man with no distinguishing features. From his front porch as he peered out his front door, she’d asked him if he had inspected The Cracked Spine. She shared with us how the conversation had gone:
“Is my name on the paperwork? Then, aye, I did the deed. You can’t expect me to remember every detail of every building I inspect, including the names of the businesses inside.”
“Any chance you could check your records?” Inspector Buchanan had asked him. “Did you keep a copy of the paperwork?”
“No, there is no chance I will check my paperwork. Not today. If my name’s on it, then it was me. I’m not going into my office on a weekend. Not without a warrant of some sort. Next time I’m there, I’ll look.”
The Stolen Letter Page 22
