Deadly Editions Page 16

  Birk and I shared a look. I’d wanted to talk to Louis, Winston, or even Findlay, maybe take a peek at the library again just to satisfy some curiosity I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I wasn’t comfortable asking Jacques for a tour.

  “Do you think Louis will be here anytime soon?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jacques said. “I can give him a message.”

  “Sure, just have him call me, if that’s okay.”

  “I will.”

  “You’re really not going to search for the book?” I said.

  “I have no desire to own that stupid, stupid book.”

  I started at his vitriolic words. “Sorry you feel that way.”

  “Well, I do. Excuse me.”

  Birk and I watched him guide the horse back to the paddock. Maybe he was simply worried about Shelagh, but it felt as if coming here had been a bad idea. The euphoria from the morning at the museum and finding the recent clue was diminishing as the clouds became darker and frigid air bit at my nose. Our breath was fogging around us, and it was time to leave.

  TWENTY

  “It’s not even a well-taken-care-of book.” Hamlet closed the cover.

  “I know. There’s nothing written in it. I’ve looked at each page. I’ve checked to see if any pages are missing. I’ve done everything but X-ray it,” I said, wishing I had easy access to an X-ray machine.

  Rosie was helping a customer when I came in with the book, but now she and Hector walked to the back and joined Hamlet and me. I showed her the latest clue—the most obvious of them all and yet the most mysterious.

  Rosie grabbed the book quickly and looked at it a moment before she glanced back up at me. “Och, that’s ours, lass.”

  “What?”

  “That’s our book. Well, I mean that’s a book that used tae be in the shop. I remember it well—it’s in terrible shape, but I thought it charming. I dinnae remember when it was sold. That’s why I was surprised not tae find any Jekyll and Hyde copies in here when all this happened. I remember this book.” Rosie thumbed through it.

  “Are you one hundred percent sure?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you think it was sold in the last year, since I’ve been here?”

  “I do, though I couldnae be more specific. We had it for years, I think. I cannae remember how we acquired it.”

  “I wonder what in the world that means.” I thought about my spreadsheets, but they were only in the beginning phase. If I’d had them in place over the last year, we’d all have a better grasp on the bookshop’s inventory and when exactly this book had been on the shelf.

  Rosie shrugged. “Dinnae ken.”

  Absently I sat down on a chair. Hector trotted to my feet, jumped up, and put his front paws on my leg. I lifted him to my lap. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Or it could be,” Hamlet said. “I have no idea what it means.”

  There was absolutely nothing special about the book.

  Hamlet sat down too. “Delaney, I talked to Ritchie John’s daughter.”

  “Oh?” Rosie and I said together.

  Hamlet nodded. “I told her I was sorry about her father and asked if she needed anything.”

  “That was lovely of ye.” Rosie put a hand on Hamlet’s shoulder.

  “It was actually a little weird, Rosie. She doesn’t know me at all. Yesterday evening, I happened upon her and approached her at the takeaway across the street from the university library.” Hamlet seemed to cringe. “I tried to be delicate, but I think she was put off.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Maybe it was strange that I approached her, but there was something more to her reaction, like she was embarrassed to be caught going about living her life. But I don’t know for sure. Delaney, you have me looking much more closely at things than I used to. I’m suspicious of everyone.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Not at all. I’m more observant too, and that’s good.” Hamlet reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “However, I’m also doing things I wouldn’t have considered before you came to Scotland. I looked up some addresses, though I’m not sure you really want them.”

  I took the piece of paper. There were three names and addresses listed. Darcy John, Louis Chantrell, and Findlay Sweet.

  I looked at him. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

  I appreciated the gesture, but I didn’t quite know why he’d given me the addresses. I folded the piece of paper, thinking I wouldn’t do anything with it. And then, it came to me. Or, it came over me—my curiosity. I could feel the paper in my hand and it seemed to buzz with a message: It wouldn’t hurt to check these places out, and maybe you’ll learn something helpful. What if you find Shelagh? I unfolded it.

  “Och, lass,” Rosie added. “I see the inner struggle, but I know where this is headed. I feel like I’m saying it tae ye all the time, but be careful.”

  “Aye,” Hamlet agreed. “Whatever you do with those, be careful.”

  “I’m not…” I paused a long time.

  “It’s okay, Delaney, we’ve got the shop covered,” Rosie said.

  “Aye. I wouldn’t have given you the addresses if I couldn’t stick around while you’re gone. But, again, be careful,” Hamlet added.

  I couldn’t deny the fact that I was going to somehow look at these places with my own two eyes. Finally, I nodded. “I will be. I know exactly who to call to go with me.” I looked at Rosie. “I think I’ll take a little more time off.”

  “Aye? Not a wee bit surprised.”

  Elias was there quickly, probably happier than he’d ever been that I’d called for a ride.

  “Lass, I needed tae get away from my hoose. I ken the electricians are doin’ the best they can, but no one works the way they used tae anymore. Everyone needs breaks. People eat lunch, for goodness’ sake, for a whole hour. Who needs an hour tae eat a meal?” He shook his head. “The world is changing.”

  Elias probably wouldn’t have done well in a corporate environment with such barbaric things as breaks, lunchtimes, nap rooms, and personal leaves. It was far too late to try to change him.

  “Who indeed?” I said.

  I wasn’t fond of lunches and breaks either, but I didn’t really have a job; I had a passion that I got to fulfill every single day. You didn’t want to take breaks if you genuinely loved what you did. Well, unless you had some addresses you wanted to explore, some people you wanted to track down, I thought. Okay, so it wasn’t that I didn’t take breaks—I just had lots of flexibility.

  Some university students lived in buildings that were called Roosts. Darcy lived in the Roost at Panmure Court made up of modern black-and-stone apartments that had been built on top of plain stones. Elias didn’t remember what had been there before the Roost was built, but he wasn’t pleased to see that graffiti now covered the older bottom stones.

  “’Tis shamie,” he grumbled as he parked the taxi in a convenient spot next to the building.

  “A shame, yes,” I said.

  He peered up and out through the windshield. “Am I coming in with ye?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I can’t imagine I’ll run into any trouble in a student Roost, but it will be strange that I’m here. You can be my moral support if Darcy just shuts the door on us.”

  “I can do that.”

  We ran into so many roadblocks along the way that I had second and then third thoughts about trying to talk to Darcy John.

  First we had to be buzzed into the building. We were greeted immediately by a security officer who asked to see our identifications. When we didn’t show him anything that said we were part of the university, he didn’t want to let us through the second set of doors.

  “Who do you want to see?” he said.

  “Darcy John,” I said.

  “Why?”

  Because a woman is missing, and I suspect Shelagh’s kidnapping is somehow tied to Darcy’s father’s murder.

  “It’s a long story, but I met her father
the day he … died,” I said.

  “Let me ring her. Stay here.”

  The security officer went through the second set of doors. We watched as he made his way to a counter and picked up an old-fashioned telephone handset.

  Elias and I shared raised eyebrows.

  “I really don’t want to bother her,” I said, “but that book … the Monster, Shelagh. What’s going on, and why does it seem the bookshop is involved now? Someone knows something that’s going to solve all these things at once, I’m sure.”

  “I forstaw—understand. I hope she’ll talk tae us.”

  The security officer came back through.

  “All right. She’ll be down in a few minutes. She’ll meet you over in the common area on the other side of the desk inside.”

  I could tell he was disappointed, that he would have preferred for her to tell us to go away. Frankly, I wondered why she hadn’t done just that.

  We were buzzed through and found the common area: a sunken space populated with red vinyl chairs and a big square plastic table that showed signs of recent use—rings from glasses and a few stray chips. Ah, the college life.

  Several seconds later a young, pretty, and really tall—probably just over six feet—woman came around and toward the pit. Dressed in sweats and a ragged old sweater—something she and Elias would call a jumper—with her brown hair up in a messy ponytail, she was still shockingly beautiful, the type of person you can’t help but stare at. I understood Hamlet’s crush.

  Her heart-shaped face was twisted in sadness and grief, and her brown eyes were glassy. I had the urge to tell her that we were sorry to bother her and that we’d made a mistake. I wanted go back to the bookshop, and leave the mourning young woman alone. But she spoke first, and the course was set.

  “You saw my da the day he was killed?” she said as she sat down on a chair next to me.

  I finally nodded. “Thanks for coming to talk to us. I’m very sorry about your father, but yes, I did see him at Deacon Brodie’s Tavern. He was tending the bar when I was there for a meeting. I’m Delaney, and this is Elias.”

  “Aye, hello.” She waited.

  “Did your father work at the pub for a while?” I asked.

  Her eyebrows came together. “You’re from America?”

  “Yes. I’ve lived here about a year. I work at a bookshop in Grassmarket. The Cracked Spine.”

  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “A couple of reasons. First of all, yes, I saw your father that day, but it was as I was walking into the pub with a man named Louis Chantrell. Mr. Chantrell seemed to know your father, but Ritchie said he didn’t recognize Louis. The moment struck me as odd, and then so much has happened since then.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “I did.”

  “Good. When you say so much has happened since, do you mean the Monster?”

  “Well, yes, but also the meeting I was going to was being conducted by a woman who is now missing. Shelagh O’Conner. I’m just searching for answers, though I’m not sure I know the right questions to ask.”

  “Aye? I had no idea that woman was there that day. That is strange, but I don’t think my father knew her. At least not that I’m aware of.” She sat back.

  I looked at Elias and then once more at her. “What have the police told you?”

  It took her a minute, but she regarded me again. “That there was camera footage of the Monster breaking into Da’s flat. They suspect that’s who killed him, but they can’t be sure. That’s literally all they told me. I can’t understand who would want to kill my father. None of it makes any sense.” Darcy sat forward again. “He was hit with a lamp. He died from blunt-force trauma to his head. The police took the lamp but left the rest as they found it, bloodstain and all. Books had been pulled from a shelf and scattered over the floor. The lamp that killed him was still there, its shade torn. The bloodstain on the throw rug. I couldn’t believe the police would leave it like that.”

  I leaned toward her. “I know you don’t know us, Darcy, but I knew who you were because a friend of mine knows you. You go to school with him. Hamlet.”

  An involuntary smiled pulled briefly at the corner of her mouth. “Aye, a lovely lad. I’m sure I scared him to death yesterday. He came up to me and told me he was sorry, asked if there was anything he could do. I’m so upset and afraid and jumpy lately, I’m sure I responded horribly. Please give him my apologies.”

  “I will,” I said. The last thing on my mind was Hamlet’s love life, but I wondered who was in Darcy’s life who might be able to help her. Maybe she didn’t have anyone she could ask. “I’m sure Hamlet, and those of us who work with him at the bookshop, would be happy to help you clean up.”

  “No … I mean, not right now. I’ll take care of it at some point, but I was just so surprised they left it that way. Is that normal?”

  “Och, if they’ve gathered all their evidence, it’s probably just the way it’s done. They might have offered you the name of a cleaning service or something,” Elias said.

  She shook her head. “They didn’t.”

  “Darcy, what about the books that were on the floor? Was there anything special about them?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, they were just books that Da had. They weren’t valuable, but he liked to read.” Her eyes lit momentarily, and she looked at me. “You say you work at a bookshop in Grassmarket? The Cracked Spine?”

  “Yes.”

  “He sometimes shopped there. You have an older woman working there?”

  “Rosie.”

  “I don’t know her name, but Da was very fond of her, talked about how lovely she was.”

  “Lots of people do that. She’s the best.” I cleared my throat, wondering if Rosie would remember Ritchie if she saw a good picture of him and if him shopping at The Cracked Spine was in anyway important to his murder. I hoped not. “Darcy, do you know if your father had come into the bookshop recently?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What about the kinds of books he liked to read? Do you know any titles?”

  “He liked to read everything. I don’t know specific titles, but mostly stuff with lots of testosterone. ‘Man books,’ he liked to call them.” She laughed once but then sobered again. “I don’t really know, though.”

  I didn’t want to plant the seed, but considering all that had recently happened, I wondered about the other men of the hour, Jekyll and Hyde. My mind jumped through some ideas. Maybe the book we’d gotten from the Starbar had come from Ritchie John’s shelves, but the timing would have been wrong if it was taken the night he was killed. Delta said she’d been holding on to it for about a week.

  “Darcy, what about your father’s relationship with Louis Chantrell?”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “Mr. Chantrell seemed to recognize your father, but your father didn’t remember him,” I repeated. “What did your father do with his days, other than tend bar at Deacon Brodie’s?”

  “Oh. Well, first of all, that’s the thing. As far as I knew, he hadn’t tended bar there for quite some time. He used to work there full-time. He did well, earned good tips, but he’d been otherwise employed for at least the last few years. I didn’t know he was working at the pub, even part-time.”

  “What was his job before I saw him at the pub?”

  “He cared for horses. He used to work for a man in Glasgow, but that man passed away. We moved here so I could attend university and he could be close by. He found a new stable job about three years ago.”

  “With who?” Shelagh, I thought.

  “A man named Birk Blackburn. He’s local. I met him a few times, a nice man.”

  The world around me fell away, tilted a little, and flooded over. Did I know this? No, I was sure I didn’t. Why hadn’t Birk mentioned it to me? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to anyone? Did the police already know?

  A funny choked noise came from my throat.

  “Are yo
u okay?” Darcy asked me.

  “I’m fine. Sorry…”

  Elias knew Birk, and he kept a much better poker face than I did. He jumped in to give me a moment to compose myself.

  “Are you a horsewoman, lass?” he asked.

  Darcy smiled at him. It was a genuine smile. “No. I mean, I love them. They are extraordinary creatures, and I truly love them, but I don’t enjoy riding them, and I never took to caring for them like my father did.”

  “Did your father ever work for anyone other than Birk here in Edinburgh?” I was finally able to ask.

  “No.”

  “And he had quit that job?”

  “Aye,” she answered, but only after a beat too long. It seemed she shut her mouth tightly then, as if she didn’t want to say another word about that.

  I didn’t want to push her. “And you can’t think of how he might have known Louis Chantrell?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Again, I don’t know who that is. How was Da that day? Did he seem okay? Did he seem happy?” she asked.

  “Yes, most definitely. He was very sweet and friendly,” I said, mostly to make her feel better. “A truly delightful man.”

  “That’s really good to know.”

  I wished I could take away her sadness, but I couldn’t. “I’m serious, Darcy, we would be more than happy to help you clean up. I’m in the bookshop, so is Hamlet. Come see us if … well, no matter what.”

  She looked at me a long time and finally nodded. “Thank you. I will.”

  She walked us to the security doors and gave us a friendly but distracted good-bye. The security officer was glad to see us go.

  “Off to Birk’s?” Elias asked as we got in the taxi.

  “Yes, please, and step on it.” The other two addresses would have to wait.

  “I can do that.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Birk lived in an estate with a large front garden. His interior decorating color of choice was gold. Large gold front doors led into a golden entryway, which in turn flowed to a golden drawing room and kitchen beyond. I realized I’d never seen the kitchen, but it was a safe bet to guess the fixtures there were gold too.