The Cracked Spine (24 page)

I nodded again. “Was she a yeller? I mean did she yell at people when she was upset?”

“Jenny? I'm not sure I ever heard her yell. I might not have ever seen her that upset, maybe,” Hamlet said, offended even more now.

I also sensed that he wasn't telling me the truth.

“No?” I said. “Gregory said he heard her yelling the night before she was killed. That he was walking in the hallway and he heard her from there.”

“That doesn't sound at all like Jenny.”

Nothing that Gregory had told me seemed to be sounding like the version of Jenny that Hamlet knew. Were there two versions of her or was one of the men lying? The inconsistency was part of the reason I didn't mention the tuxedo-clad potentially red-haired man Gregory claimed to have seen. I also didn't want to shine the light of suspicion on anyone based upon the account of someone who'd been under the influence of altering substances. Not yet at least.

We were both silent a moment, but Hamlet spoke next. “Delaney, if Jenny was yelling, arguing, there was something wrong and someone else there. I'd like tae call the police and tell them that. They need tae be asking neighbors about that.”

“Really?”

“Aye. I'll have tae talk tae them even if they become more suspicious of me. That doesn't fit at all. Maybe someone else was seen or a voice could be recognized. I have tae try. Jenny wasn't yelling at me. It was someone else.”

As sincere as his concern was, I cringed inwardly. That was the last reaction I expected. I'd been fishing to see if Jenny and Hamlet had been arguing. I didn't expect for my news to actually be important news to Hamlet too. Gregory's reaction regarding me talking to the police had been loud and clear. Elias had mentioned that I might be in danger for doing as much. Hamlet was right, though, something needed to be said to the police. I'd known that much when Gregory had mentioned what he'd heard and what he thought he'd seen. Just because Hamlet claimed it wasn't him didn't make it less important. In fact, it suddenly seemed much more important. Perhaps I could handle the police without including Gregory.

“Okay. You're right. Let me, Hamlet. I'll talk to them.”

“Why you?”

I stood and brushed off my pants. “I think it would be better. I think I should go talk to them in person.”

“I believe a call would be fine.”

“No, I want to go. I'll go now,” I said.

“Want some company?”

“No, keep looking for the print.”

Hamlet was still sitting on the floor. His eyebrows came together as he looked up at me. “All right. Let me know.”

I hadn't expected to make another trip to the police station. I hadn't expected Hamlet's reaction. I was thrown. But he was right. This was something the police needed to know, no matter how Gregory would react.

I decided that the best part of my surprise redirection was that if Hamlet was so intent on wanting to inform the police, he couldn't have possibly had something to do with Jenny's murder.

Could he?

 

TWENTY-ONE

“Hi, is Inspector Winters or Morgan in?” I said to the officer sitting at the reception desk.

He looked up with bored eyes and said, “Who wants them?”

“My name is Delaney Nichols,” I said.

“And who's Delaney Nichols?”

“I work at The Cracked Spine,” I said.

The officer picked up a phone and mumbled into it. I was standing right in front of him and I still didn't catch the words.

He hung up and said, “Through there, down the hall tae your right you'll find Inspector Winters. If you get lost, yell ‘fire' and someone will help you.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

The officer's attention moved back to whatever he was reading on his desk.

“Delaney, hello,” Inspector Winters said as he leaned out through a doorway not far down the hall. “Right in here.”

The room was small, trimmed and framed in old wood like the rest of the inside of the building. The table and three chairs were also old wood, but were surprisingly comfortable as I took a seat and propped my arms onto the wide rests.

“What can I do for you?” Inspector Winters said as he set a notebook on the table and held a pen at the ready. He was dressed in civilian clothes, business casual, but his smile seemed much more welcoming today. I also noticed that though his shoulders were, of course, still thick and wide he didn't seem to be holding them in an intimidating way.

I got right to it. “What would you say if I told you that I recently learned that Jenny MacAlister was heard yelling, arguing loudly, with someone shortly before she was murdered, and that some people I've spoken with have told me that wasn't her way? That she wasn't a yelling type of person. And Hamlet is adamant that she wasn't arguing with him when he visited.”

Inspector Winters frowned briefly. “I would say that everyone yells at one time or another, even the quietest, gentlest. I would also ask you tae give me the names of all the people who might have heard such a thing so I can get further details, just in case Jenny's yelling might lead us tae some clues about her killer. And I would wonder why Hamlet hasn't brought this news tae me instead of you.”

“I can't give you their names. Hamlet wanted to talk to you, but I said I would instead,” I said.

“Then your information is fairly useless, hearsay. Just something you came in tae tell me, maybe just because you wanted tae waste some time,” he said as he set the pen on the table next to the notebook. “Why can't you tell me who told you?”

“Because I said I wouldn't.”

“Why wouldn't someone want that information given tae the police? I would think that unless they're involved in the murder or the argument, which in turn might lead tae the murderer, they would want the police tae know everything they could know tae solve the crime. Do you see my problem, Delaney?”

“It's not that simple. Honestly, I don't think they were involved,” I said.

Inspector Winters shook his head slowly. “All right, what were they yelling about?”

“I can't be exactly sure.”

“I see.”

“I have a suggestion.”

Inspector Winters's mouth quirked. He sat back and crossed his arms in front of his barrel chest. “I'd be happy tae hear your suggestion.”

“I suggest you talk to all the residents in the building, particularly those on Jenny's floor, to see if they heard the yelling, or perhaps saw someone other than Hamlet go into her room.”

“We have talked tae the residents on her floor, others in the building tae.”

“Did you ask if they heard yelling—specifically yelling? It's a troublesome building, right? The residents have given you lots of problems?” What had Gregory said? Something about the police not caring about the people in the building because they've given them trouble in the past.

“We asked … wait, that's not your business.”

“But the people there. It's a rough place?”

“No rougher than some. Better than many others,” he said, his forehead crinkling.

We were both fishing, but neither of us was catching anything.

“Did anyone see people there that night that didn't belong? You know Hamlet was there. But what about other visitors who didn't live in the building?”

“Can't tell you that either.”

I bit my lip. “Other than Edwin and Hamlet, have you talked to anyone else in Edwin's circle of friends? Do you suspect anyone like that?”

Inspector Winters rubbed his hand over his chin. His eyes had lit briefly when I'd asked the question, but he'd done this sort of thing before and he wasn't going to give away any real secrets.

“Delaney, I can't tell you that either, and you know I can't. Here's what I can tell you—well, what I'm going tae tell you whether I'm supposed tae or not. I'm only telling you because I'd like for you tae reward me back with an answer tae a question I have. Give and take. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He sat forward, moving his arms onto the table. The space in the room was so small that I had an urge to scoot my chair backward but I didn't.

“We know Jenny was hiding something. What was it? Was it an item or a secret? It had tae do with Edwin, we know that much, but we need more information. We're certain the answer will lead us tae the killer.”

“I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea. Really,” I said.

I thought it was an Academy Award performance. I watched Inspector Winters's eyes to see if he bought it. I couldn't be certain, but I thought he had.

“All right. If you learn what it was, will you tell me?”

“Yes. Right away.”

“Is this how you do things in America?” Inspector Winters asked.

I shrugged one shoulder. “I don't know. I've never known someone who was murdered.”

He sat back in his chair again and looked at me. “Why is this so important tae you? You just moved here. You don't know who your friends really are yet.”

“I don't really know why it's important, except … well, I'm a long way from home and family, and I want … maybe I need … to make Edwin, Hamlet, and Rosie family too. I want them to be okay and they won't be okay until they know what happened to Jenny.”

“What if one of them was the killer?”

“I don't believe that's the case, but I'll deal with it if I have to.” I swallowed.

“How well do you know them? How well did you know them before you traveled across the sea tae come work with them?”

“I tend to listen to my gut, and these are good people, Inspector Winters, I'm sure of it.”

He looked at me a long time and then shook his head again. “Really, there isn't much at all I can do with your information, Delaney. I'm sorry, but I appreciate you coming in tae talk with me.”

“You can try a little,” I said.

His eyes slanted, but then he sighed heavily and dramatically and said, “I'll do something. I suppose you'd like me tae check in with you later.”

I smiled.

“Don't count on it,” he said firmly.

“I understand.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I'll see you out.”

Inspector Winters escorted me through the station and out the front doors. I thought perhaps he and I might end up being friends, depending upon the outcome of the murder investigation.

Though I'd started the day early, it was already late afternoon and my date with Tom was on the close horizon. I'd walked to the police station only because I hadn't wanted to take the time to figure out the bus schedule and hailing a cab other than Elias's felt disloyal. I wouldn't have time to go home even if I did grab a cab, but if I hurried back to the shop I'd be able to make myself somewhat presentable. If it didn't rain.

But, of course, this was Scotland, and rain was always a possibility.

 

TWENTY-TWO

My adventure back to the shop consisted of a number of step-out-of-the-rain stops into shops along the Royal Mile. I ducked into the End of the World pub, where a bartender who was the spitting image of Princess Merida from
Brave
gave me an umbrella to get me the rest of the way. I promised I'd return it in the next day or so. She didn't seem worried.

Once back at the shop, I hurried to the toilet on the dark side and hoped and, I'll admit, sent out a small prayer, that my hair would be salvageable. Hamlet was gone for the day but he'd put Rosie in the loop regarding my mad dash to the police station. As I scurried by her she asked how things had gone. She was glad to hear that all seemed well.

I needed a sit-down with my coworkers tomorrow. It was time for Edwin or someone (hopefully someone other than me) to tell the police about the Folio. I wondered how they'd learned there was a “secret” but that didn't much matter. The secret needed to be shared. Sooner rather than later.

The hair wasn't perfect, but it was passable; a little frizzier than I'd like but it had been much worse. I was dusty and wrinkled. I swiped and smoothed, but it didn't do much good. I needed to bring a change of clothes to work, as well as some backup makeup. I still hadn't settled into what I thought would be my real job yet. There were extenuating circumstances of course, but momentarily I envisioned which drawer in my old, ridiculously valuable, touched-by-Scottish-royalty desk I would keep some lip gloss and mascara.

When I returned to the light side, Rosie and Hector were waiting for me with knowing smiles. Well, I assumed that Hector was smiling too. Those bangs again.

“What?”

“Weel, I jest want ye tae know that while Tom is a good man, and a handsome one tae boot, he's had a number of girlfriends. I want tae remind ye that he's broken a heart or two.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Rosie.” I held up my right hand, palm outward, and continued, “I promise I won't immediately fall in love with the very handsome Scottish pub owner who looks amazing in both a kilt and pants.”

Rosie laughed. “He's a fine handsome one, that is for certain. Awright then, now that I've told ye tae be careful with yer hert, I'd like for ye tae have some fun too.”

“I will. Where was Edwin today? Will he be in tomorrow?” I wanted the sit-down to be with everyone at once.

The concern that flashed over her face was brief, but real.

“I'm sure he'll be in tomorrow,” she said as her fingers moved to the spot at the bottom of her neck.

“Where was he today?” I said. “Something wrong?”

“Och, 'tis nothing, Delaney. Sometimes, Edwin doesnae check in with us. He gets busy, perhaps gets distracted.”

“Have you called him?”

“Aye, of course. He'll call when he has a moment.”

“What would he be doing?”

“Working, I believe.”