The Loch Ness Papers Page 3

  Norval stopped again, and this time his shoulders slumped.

  “Oh, Norval, are you okay?” I asked.

  He sniffed and nodded and then sat forward on the chair. “Aye, it’s that hug, he meant it, that still keeps me convinced about what happened. He wasn’t acting as if he was scairt for me tae know what he was doing, like he felt guilty. He wasnae running away, lass. That’s not what happened. It was … let me tell ye.

  “‘What are ye doing, Da? Who were ye talking tae?’ I asked him.

  “He hesitated then, but not for long. Soon he crouched and said, ‘Norval, my boy, I came upon something and it’s changed everything. I’ve been wanting tae share it with ye, yer mother and sisters too, but mostly you. I just wasnae sure how it would be.’

  “‘Tell me,’ I pleaded.

  “‘Hold my hand, lad, and come with me tae the shore.’

  “I took his hand and we made our way. We stood there a moment. I heard the water lapping at the rocky sand at my feet, but it was a calm night. The moon was covered by the clouds, remember. Da asked me, ‘Lad, ye’ve heard about the monster, aye?’ Of course, I had. Everyone had heard about the myth of the Loch Ness Monster. Pictures had been taken, most of them disproved, aye. I nodded up at him, but didnae speak. I sensed what was about tae happen. Even in the dark, he knew the nod was there and he crouched again.” Norval paused the story and locked his gaze onto mine. “Lass, he said he’d met her, befriended her.

  “Tears sprung tae my young eyes then. I was full of all things a seven-year-old boy should be full of—adventure, curiosity, energy, but there in the dark with the man who protected me from everything, I was scairt. Da sensed it and pulled me close again. He told me that she wouldnae come tae the shore that night, that first she’d need tae get used tae me. He told me tae look out about twenty meters into the water. It was dark, but I put my eyes there and looked hard as I blinked away my fear. I heard something before I saw it. I heard a splash and then another one and I looked harder.

  “‘There, there,’ Da said. I looked and saw it.” Norval paused again and turned back to me, his gaze even steelier. “The eyes of the beast, lass. I saw them, their glimmer, sure as I’m sitting here tonight.”

  I blinked. “The eyes only?”

  He nodded. “The blue glimmer of the eyes. Sure as I’m here this day.”

  “There was no moon, no light or stars,” I said. “What did they glimmer off of?”

  “That’s what I’m trying tae tell ye. They glimmered on their own. That’s how I ken they were there. The sight lasted only a moment and then I heard another splash before the eyes, along with the rest of the monster, I’m certain, disappeared.”

  It would be impossible not to have doubts, but I didn’t want to argue with the sweet, old man who missed his father. “And you’ve been searching for the monster ever since?”

  “No! I’ve been searching for the monster and my da, lass. That’s the rest of the story. And I cannae search forever. I need someone tae carry on. Da’s long gone, certainly, but his bones, whatever’s left, are somewhere, in the beast’s lair, I’m certain. I’ve seen her, Nessie, but I need tae know her better. I need her tae take me tae my da. It needs tae be known that he didnae leave us on his own. He never would have. We must always search for the truth. We must never run away from it.”

  He was so sure. I saw it. I felt it. I was torn between my own doubt and sympathy. I’d known people who believed something so unbelievable before, but most of the time, they’d been unwell, unstable, mentally ill to some degree. Was Norval unwell? Or, and I wanted to believe this second option so much, had he just believed something for so long that it would be impossible not to believe it now? He’d wired his own beliefs, and after so long, they couldn’t be untangled.

  “What happened? I mean…” I said.

  “I know what you mean. The next night…”

  A knock pounded on Norval’s front door. A surge of irritation pulsed through me. However, at that moment I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Nessie herself on the other side. Norval stood and put his hot chocolate down.

  “Excuse me, lass,” Norval said. “I should get that.”

  I felt abandoned. I made some sort of noise of protest, and then took another sip from my own mug.

  FIVE

  “Uncle Norval, did you forget our lunch, our meeting with the reverend?” The man stepped into the flat, appraised Norval’s appearance, and then noticed my existence.

  His pressed, gray suit and skinny red tie, along with his scolding tone, made me think about my hair and wonder how bad it looked. Pretty bad, if the man’s surprised eyes when they landed in that general vicinity were any indication.

  “And you are?” he asked me.

  I stood and extended a hand. “Delaney Nichols.”

  I could tell he didn’t want to shake, but he did. “I’m Gavin MacLeod, Norval’s great-nephew.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Gavin looked at me and then at Norval. “Right. Well, Uncle, are we ready to go?”

  “Not quite yet,” Norval said. “I have a guest. And I met with Nisa by myself this morning.”

  “Ah, I see, and did the good reverend offer some of her advice again?”

  Though he didn’t make quotes in the air with his fingers, his tone spoke the sarcasm. He wasn’t a fan of Reverend Nisa’s advice.

  “She told me I didn’t have to listen to you,” Norval said.

  A surge of the need to escape spread through me, no matter how much I wanted to hear the rest of Norval’s story. Certainly, this should be a private conversation.

  I wasn’t sure if the younger man was ignoring the older one or keeping things civil because I was there, but he simply looked at the watch on his wrist. “I’m on a tight schedule, and I’d like to have some lunch at least. I need to get back to work in one hour.”

  Norval pursed his lips at his nephew and then at me.

  “Norval, perhaps we can meet again. Soon?” I said.

  “I would like that very much, Delaney,” he said with an apologetic frown.

  I wanted to take my mug to the kitchen, but it seemed wiser just to leave and let them get to their lunch. “I look forward to it.”

  “Aye,” Norval said. “We were talking about Nessie, Gavin. Delaney might take over my papers!”

  “I see,” Gavin said stiffly.

  I smiled. “I happened upon some Nessie cards he dropped and brought them by. That’s how we met.”

  “I see,” Gavin repeated, still stiffly.

  “Thank ye for bringing them. I would have later wondered where they’d disappeared tae,” Norval said as the three of us made awkward moves so that Norval and I could both get to the door.

  “My pleasure.” I smiled. “And such a pleasure to meet you, Norval. Thank you for your time.”

  With one more glance at Gavin—who forced a small smile—I left the flat and headed back toward the church, ultimately back to the bookshop. I was grateful the rain hadn’t begun again. I felt that void of disappointment that follows unrewarded anticipation, but I would talk to Norval again soon. He had mentioned knowing Edwin. Perhaps I could learn the rest of the story from my boss. I walked toward the bus stop I should have originally disembarked at.

  But there was something keeping my steps slow. I was bothered by what I’d witnessed between Gavin and Norval. Should I have intervened more? Come to Norval’s defense? Just because I liked him? Their relationship was none of my business, but I hoped I hadn’t witnessed something that hinted at some sort of abuse. I wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  “Ms. Nichols,” a voice called from behind only a few seconds later.

  I turned and waited for Gavin to catch up. He moved gracefully in a quick jog, and I steeled myself for a lecture.

  He smiled as he stopped in front of me. He was holding the bag with the deck of cards.

  “I’m sorry to chase you,” he said, his tone much friendlier than inside the flat, and not the least bit
breathless from the jog.

  “It’s okay.”

  He seemed to suddenly notice that he held the cards. He put them in a pocket and rubbed his finger under his nose. “My uncle showed me the cards to prove why you were there. I understand, and I thank you for returning them.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Right. My uncle … well, he’s a wee bit eccentric.”

  “He’s very sweet.”

  “Aye, but he’s eccentric. That can’t be denied.”

  “I suppose.”

  “People have tried to take advantage of him. His papers are … appealing to many, and I don’t want him to be hurt or … well, I want to keep him protected.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m sure he told you about his father.”

  I nodded. “Well…”

  “Aye, his father was my great-grandfather. I’m Jean’s grandson, though she’s passed on. Jean is Norval’s eldest sister.”

  “He mentioned his two sisters.”

  “My great-aunt Millie is still with us. She had no children, never married, and sadly I’ve lost my parents too. I’m the last of the line, at least at the moment.” He shrugged and continued to smile. I couldn’t tell if he was just being friendly, or working hard to make up for not being friendly in Norval’s flat. “Anyway, Norval’s been … eccentric since his father disappeared.”

  “I see.”

  “But Norval’s father wasn’t taken by the Loch Ness Monster, Ms. Nichols. Surely you know that.”

  “I don’t necessarily believe there’s a monster, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one, I suppose.”

  Gavin’s mouth moved from a smile into a straight line. “Leopold Fraser, Norval’s father, was having an affair, Ms. Nichols. He would meet a woman down by the loch. When he was found out, or when Norval happened upon him meeting with the woman, Leopold left with her. That’s all that happened, though Norval doesn’t want to believe it. There’s been no way to stop him looking for his father and that mythological creature, all these years.”

  “There’s proof of where his father went?”

  Gavin shrugged again. “It’s what my grandmother said happened. She had no desire to ever seek out her father, and he was long gone by the time I came along. It’s a family story, that’s all. We do what we can to take care of Norval, but he hasn’t been … completely right since he was a wee lad. He can’t keep a job. He can’t be away from his papers for very long. When he was younger he’d have to travel up to Loch Ness when the urge hit him. He’d begin a job and then one day, go off for lunch and never return. We knew he was either with his papers or up at the loch. We’ve taken care of him, but it’s been a challenge.”

  “I’m sorry. Has he … seen the monster? I mean, after … that night?”

  “He says he has, but as many times as we have all asked him to show us the proof, it’s just never there completely, available for him to prove. He claims we aren’t worthy, or some such nonsense. It’s buried under something or he misplaced it, or it’s unclear.” Gavin looked at me a long minute. “He told me you work at a used book and manuscript shop. The reason I chased you down, I just want to make sure you aren’t scammed into giving him some sort of financial compensation for a bunch of junk.”

  “He said his things weren’t for sale, but he would give them to whomever would continue his work.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he counters with some sort of dollar figure. Please just be aware.”

  “Thank you, Gavin. I will be,” I said, not wanting to explain that I’d been in my business long enough that it would have been difficult for his great-uncle to fool me into believing he had enough proof of the existence of the Loch Ness Monster that I would pay for the evidence.

  However, though I wasn’t a believer, I wouldn’t have minded being proven wrong.

  “Good. Here.” He reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my information. Call me if you feel you need to. I’m pretty sure that now that Norval has met you, he’ll become a part of your life. The fact that you work at The Cracked Spine only makes me surer.”

  “I would love to see him again,” I said, and I meant it. I glanced at the card, but didn’t digest the details other than noticing the word “finance” before looking back at him.

  He frowned doubtfully. “Thank you, Ms. Nichols. A pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand and we shook again before we said goodbye.

  Gavin took off with hurried steps but not back toward Norval’s apartment. Before I set out for the bus stop again, I glanced back at Norval’s door and foil-covered window. There was no sign of him peering out of either. I hoped he was okay.

  I looked at the card:

  GAVIN MACLEOD, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, MACLEOD FINANCE.

  His office was located not far off the Royal Mile, and his card listed both his office phone number and his personal mobile. I didn’t think I’d ever need the card, but I kept it nonetheless, tucking it into my pocket just as I noticed dark clouds coming my way again.

  I’d only meant to find someone to officiate at my wedding, but I’d ended up with that and more. The entire world was fascinated by the Loch Ness Monster. I didn’t believe the answer as to whether or not she truly existed was inside Norval’s apartment. But a tiny part of me hoped that maybe it was. And maybe she did. And maybe I’d get to go inside there again and look for her.

  I eyed the approaching clouds, and double-timed it to the bus stop.

  SIX

  “Och, lass, what happened tae ye?” Rosie said as I came through the bookshop’s front door.

  I reached for and smoothed my hair. “Is it that bad?”

  Rosie blinked. “Oh. No.” She was a terrible liar.

  Hamlet stepped around from the back table and was visibly startled. “Oh, goodness.”

  “It is that bad. I’ll need to do something before I scare away customers.”

  “Hang on.” Hamlet disappeared to the back corner again and returned with a cap. “It hadn’t even been worn yet.”

  Leave it to the sweetest, most gentle-souled coworker a girl could have to find me a cap that hasn’t even been worn yet. Hamlet, ten years my junior and working on a literature degree at the University of Edinburgh, had become like the little brother I’d never had. I had an older brother, but he wasn’t into literature, and though he’d probably go find me a cap if I needed it, chances were good it would be emblazoned with either John Deere or the Kansas City Royals.

  Hamlet, very much looking like a Shakespearean actor with a ponytail and everything, had retrieved a simple knit hat embroidered with the Edinburgh Managers’ logo. I’d become better acquainted with soccer—I mean football—over the last year, but I wasn’t sure I should be given the honor of wearing the logo. Football teams and their loyalties were taken very seriously.

  “Is it really that bad?” I said.

  “Aye,” Hamlet said. “In fact, I’ve never quite seen it so.” He waved his hands around his head.

  I put on the cap.

  “Looks lovely,” Rosie said. It sounded like she meant: “much better.”

  I smiled, and Hector agreed. Once the hat was on he seemed to recognize me and think it okay to trot over for a proper welcome. I picked him up and we exchanged kisses and hugs. A little larger than the teacup that was sometimes mentioned in a miniature Yorkie’s description, what the tiny, adorable Hector lacked in size, he made up for in loyalty and love. Everyone was in love with Rosie’s dog, and he was in love with all of us.

  The shop’s phone rang. It was an old phone, plugged into the wall with a cord that snaked over the floor to Rosie’s desk, and its ring reminded me of black-and-white movies I used to watch at my grandmother’s house. A harsh, vibrating jangle.

  The rest of the bookshop fit well with the old-fashioned ring, though it wasn’t a harsh space at all. It was cozy, bordered on three sides by aged wooden shelves filled with books, mo
st of them old and at least a little rare, but some contemporary too. We would be remiss not to have the occasional Harry Potter collection come through and graze the shelves until a customer in search of them came in, we’d all decided. A small shop, founded in the 1950s by Edwin, it had once been a bank. Its back wall held a stained-glass window of scales weighted down with coins. I’d fallen in love with the space the moment I’d walked in. The rolling ladder along one side had cemented the love forever.

  Stairs on the opposite side from the ladder led up and then over to the dark side, dark only because of the poor lighting from the exposed bulb in the ceiling of the collective space. However, the offices, loo, and kitchenette had some added lighting. My office, also known by us at The Cracked Spine as the warehouse, had its own lighting as well as some high-set windows. The windows let in natural light and kept me aware of the weather and general time of day, as I sometimes got lost in my job for hours on end. The warehouse stored Edwin’s collections—items, some books but not all, that spanned the ages; some valuable, some not. It was my job to catalog everything in the warehouse. Well, that had been part of the original job description. I was now much more deeply involved with everything and found that learning histories sometimes only led to more mysteries, and mysteries could be quite distracting.

  “The Cracked Spine. How may we help you today?” Rosie said as she answered. She smiled big. “Aye, she’s right here. One moment.” Rosie held the hand-piece toward me but then reversed it back to her ear. “We’re so looking forward tae meeting ye verra soon. Aye. Here she is.” She smiled as she handed it my way again. “It’s yer brother.”

  “Hey, Wyatt,” I said. I held Hector on one arm as I took the phone with my other hand. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Sis, you are not going to be happy,” he said.

  “Uh-oh. What’s up?”

  My brother, three years my elder, was sometimes dramatic, and sometimes seemed bigger than life. He was the epitome of a stereotypical farm boy, even at thirty-three. A big guy, who often wore overalls and could lift a tractor’s back-end with one hand as he opened a beer with the other, Wyatt Nichols was a bit of a legend in our part of Kansas. Also good-looking, he’d clung tightly to his bachelor status. He wasn’t like Tom had been before he met me—love ’em and leave ’em. Wyatt had always been honest, using a specific line many times: “I’m going out this evening. I’ll buy the beers if you want to join me, but there’s no room for second dates in this deal.”