The Cracked Spine (20 page)

He pinched his mouth.

“What did you talk about?”

“It's not relevant,” he said.

“Right, I'm sure, but maybe there's a clue about Jenny's personality in there. Was she sober?”

“Aye.”

“Why did you go over to her flat?”

“She called me,” he said, stopping short.

“Why? Was it out of the blue? Had you not spoken in some time?”

“It's not relevant, Delaney, not in the least.”

“Was that the last time you saw her, the last time you spoke to her?”

“Aye,” he lied. Maybe.

I tried to figure out how to ask another question he would answer. He was ready now, though, and wasn't going to let his body language give him away again. Out of the corner of my eye, toward the doors where the lecture attendees were exiting, I saw a brown flash amid the crowd. I jerked my attention in that direction. Had I seen what my subconscious thought I'd seen?

A young man's figure dressed in a Shakespearean costume and topped off with a brown ponytail.

“Was Hamlet at the lecture?” I asked.

“Not that I saw,” Monroe said.

The crowd was just big enough that I could no longer spot what I thought I'd seen.

“Wait here a second,” I said. “Please.”

Monroe made a noncommittal sound.

I hurried toward the crowd and moved with it down the hallway and then out the same doors I'd originally come through. Once outside, the group dispersed in a few different directions.

I didn't see him though. I wasn't sure why I'd felt the need to chase after him, but it had seemed important at the moment. I wished I hadn't made the effort. I turned and hurried back toward the reception hall.

To no surprise, Monroe hadn't waited. And Genevieve was gone too, the reception hall empty except for a gentleman rearranging chairs.

“Help ye?” he said.

“I was looking for the woman who gave the lecture,” I said.

“Gone. Left a wee moment ago.”

“I must have missed her. I was even by the door,” I said.

“She might have gone oot the other way, through the main hall. She left with her expensive vase and a gentleman in sunglasses. A security guard escorted them. Odd, someone wearing sunglasses when they're inside. Sairy.”

“Yeah, odd,” I said. “Thank you.”

Once again I left the room and then the building. I hopped on a bus and pulled out my phone to make sure I was going in the right direction.

I made it home just fine, though my mind was preoccupied with the day's activities and potential discoveries, making the ride nowhere nearly as satisfying as the one I'd taken that morning.

 

SEVENTEEN

Since it was the middle of summer in Edinburgh, my cottage had great natural light all the way up until about 9:30 at night if it wasn't too cloudy. It wasn't quite 8:00 when I took a lamp from one of the bedside tables and set it on the kitchen table, plugging it into an outlet low enough on the wall that the cord stretched straight. I had put enough money in my power machine to keep me going for a few days.

I spread out the pieces of purple paper. I'd brought a pair of tweezers with me from home and I grabbed them out of my bag and used them to arrange and rearrange the pieces, hoping I'd be able to come up with something quickly.

At first there was no making sense of the shapes and the ink lines and curves over them, but then I had a thought. I rounded up a paper towel and tore it down to the approximate size I thought the purple pieces had been when they were all together. Of course, I had no way of knowing yet if I was missing any pieces: big, small, whatever, but I guessed the best I could.

I tore the newly sized paper towel in half, and then continued the same maneuver until the napkin's smaller pieces closely matched the purple smaller pieces.

And I came to no good conclusion about anything at all. I wasn't even sure what I'd intended, except maybe to just get a feel for the tearing of the paper. I got no feel, no sense of anything. Just about the time my eyes got tired of looking at all the nonsense, a voice that wasn't from a book sounded in my head.

Borders first. There's simply no other way, Delaney. Let this be your first puzzle lesson, and remember to let it apply to life too. You just can't know what you've got until you know where to begin.

It was my father's voice and though I'd first heard the words when I was about five, I was pretty sure the memory was spot-on. My stomach ached briefly when I realized how much I suddenly missed my parents. I needed to get a new phone and call them soon.

“Borders. Maybe that will work. Thanks, Dad,” I said aloud.

With the tweezers I extracted what I thought were the border pieces and placed them a good foot away from the others. And then with a patience even I didn't know I had, I somehow placed the pieces side by side to make something that resembled a border, at least a border with one corner and one middle piece missing.

I still couldn't make out anything at all. Except I was satisfied to have created a good beginning. There was no draft through the cottage, but I didn't want to risk it. I grabbed a glass bowl from one of the kitchen shelves and turned it over on the border to keep it from being disturbed, and then I got to work trying to find some inner pieces, picking up the bowl only to test whether or not something fit.

My patience ran clear out after I'd only come up with what I thought might be two of the top inner pieces. I was perhaps seeing the beginnings of an O or a Y.

I was glad for the knock on my back door so I had an excuse to give up, at least for a little while.

“Hello, dear girl, Aggie wants tae ken if ye'd like tae join us for a late supper. We're just getting 'round tae it ourselves, and neither of us have shown ye where the local stores are. We'd love your company.”

“I accept,” I said. “But only if you let me make you some meals when I get my feet under me better.”

“Would be our distinct pleasure and honor.”

I hesitated. “Elias, are you or Aggie any good at puzzles?”

“Gracious, lass, I'm not good at much of anything, but Aggie's my counter and is good at just about everything, puzzles included. Why?”

“After supper, I have something I want to show her. Maybe she can help.”

“She'd be tickled, I'm sure.”

Supper was a surprise with my first real taste of haggis (I did not hate it, but I did not love it either), tatties and neeps, which were basically potatoes and turnips. I really liked them, even though I didn't think I liked turnips. Aggie had put what I guessed was nutmeg on the neeps, which gave them an appealing flavor. Both Elias and Aggie laughed when I managed only half the haggis, and said they'd get me converted eventually.

After we cleaned up, they joined me in my cottage. I hadn't had much of a chance to personalize it beyond making my own sort of mess by opening the two suitcases and rifling through them enough to make a couple of piles of clothes and other things. My new landlords didn't seem to notice the mess as we all sat around the kitchen table.

“Well, ye've got some of the border,” Aggie said as she peered through her reading glasses at the pieces of paper. “Gracious, it's a little more difficult when all the pieces have such unusual shapes and sizes. And something tells me there are pieces missing.”

“The writing on them might help,” I said doubtfully.

“Hmm. Mebbe,” Aggie said, but then she moved her face a bit closer. “Ye might have something.”

Using the tweezers, Aggie picked up a piece of paper and placed it in the top right corner, under a border piece. She grabbed another piece and placed it next to the first.

“That might be the letters ‘r-r-y,'” she said.

“I think that's more than possible,” Elias said as he stood over her shoulder.

“That's amazing, Aggie,” I said. “I didn't see that at all.”

A moment later Aggie's shoulder twitched. Elias looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Shall we perhaps catch a television show?”

“I have a better idea,” I said. “If you're up for it, that is.”

“Awright,” he said doubtfully.

I smiled. “There're a couple of areas of town I'd like to drive through. Are you available to take a drive?”

Elias glanced at Aggie, who nodded absently, her attention on the pieces of paper.

“I believe I am,” he said.

“I can probably spend an hour or so on this before I go baurmie,” Aggie said. “Come back then.”

“We shall,” Elias said.

After we were comfortable in the cab—again, I was in the front passenger seat—Elias asked where I wanted to go.

I pulled the note from Ingy out of my pocket and recited Genevieve's address.

Elias whistled. “That's a weel-aff neighborhood.”

“Could we go there first?”

“Aye.”

It was dark and I thought we were headed toward Birk's neighborhood, though from a more westerly direction than Edwin had taken.

“Elias, have you ever heard any stories about my boss, Edwin MacAlister, or his family?”

“No, I didnae recognize the name t'all. After ye told us aboot his sister, Aggie mentioned that she might have heard something about the family but she wasnae sure what it was. Neither of us are much for blether though. We were both brought up to mynd our own, ye ken?”

“The police stopped by the shop today. They wanted to talk to one of the employees so I went with him to the station. One of the inspectors told me about the family and how they are well-known throughout Scotland. I wonder how true that is.”

Elias shrugged. “'Fraid ye'll have tae ask someone else. I dinnae ken. How's yer coworker? Did they arrest him?”

“No. He was released.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah,” I said absently.

“Here we are. Beautiful hoose.” Elias pulled the cab to a stop next to the curb. We were the only vehicle either parked or traveling down the quiet street, but Genevieve's Tudor was set back behind large patches of lit gardens and a circular driveway. Unless she was looking out a window, she wouldn't know her house was being spied upon, and a cab might not garner as much attention as a regular car.

“The flowers are even pretty at night. I bet they are spectacular in the daytime,” I said.

“Aye. Who lives there?”

“A woman I met with my boss. Her name is Genevieve Begbie. Ever heard of her?”

“I've 'eard of a Harold Begbie. He's a fisherman. Something tells me they're not related.”

There was no car parked in the circular drive, but the lights were on in the front of the house. I put my hand on the car door handle but hesitated. It was late, after ten, and what would I say if she answered the door anyway?

I was just about to suggest that we could leave when a car approached from behind.

“Duck!” I said as I grabbed Elias's arm.

“Why? We're not doing anything questionable,” he said.

However, he did as I asked and we were both suddenly scrunched down in our seats.

“Shall I turn off the engine?” Elias asked.

“Yes. No! No, it's okay. It would look weird if you did that now.”

“More curious than what we're already doing?”

“Hang on,” I said as I eased myself up a bit.

The car drove past us and then up and onto Genevieve's circular driveway. It was immediately recognizable. A Citroën. I eased up a bit more but hopefully not enough to be seen by whoever got out of the car.

“Please don't be Edwin,” I whispered, but I wasn't sure why I didn't want it to be him.

No matter, my hushed wish wasn't granted. Edwin stepped out of the car and his long legs moved him quickly to the front door. He didn't look toward the cab even once as I watched him knock. Genevieve answered a moment later, still dressed in the winter white suit. They hugged briefly before Edwin disappeared inside.

“Was it Edwin?” Elias whispered.

“Yes.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“I'm not sure.” I scrunched back down. “Can you get us out of here while I stay hidden?”

“Aye,” Elias said as he hoisted himself up halfway. “Stay where ye are. I've done this before. I'll have us oot of here in a flash.”

There was no reason to think that Edwin's appearance at Genevieve's house was anything other than a friendly visit. The late hour shouldn't matter. The friendly hug shouldn't mean anything more than friendship. The pep in his step didn't have to mean anything other than that's the way he walked. The fact that he didn't seem to have a mournful posture could only mean that I was too far away to read him accurately.

None of what I saw needed to mean anything suspicious at all.

So why did it bother me so much?

 

EIGHTEEN

It wasn't as easy to convince Elias to take me to the other location I wanted to explore.

“It's late, lass, and that's not a fine neighborhood t'all,” he said.

“We'll just drive through. I've been there twice now and it hasn't seemed all that bad.”

“The building where Jenny lived isnae as bothersome, but the neighborhood just off of it isnae good.”

“Drugs?”

“Aye, and other things too.”

“Maybe that's why she lived where she lived. Or part of the reason,” I said, remembering Hamlet's answer when I'd asked him why. He'd said it was more about stubbornness.

“Meebe, but t'would be better tae drive around there during the daylight.”

“Probably, but I'll get a better feel at night. Please. We'll make it quick.”

Elias grumbled words I couldn't begin to understand before he said, “Awright. Stay in the cab.”

“Thank you.”

To his credit, Elias didn't ask many questions regarding my concern at seeing my boss at Genevieve's house. I didn't know how to relay my feelings about the entire situation without explaining the entire situation to him, and as he'd mentioned he wasn't much into blether.