The Cracked Spine (14 page)

As Rosie turned and continued through the doorway, I took a steadying breath. The questions had come naturally. Now, I just had to figure out how to ask more of them and how to get a few addresses.

If Rosie wouldn't help, I bet Hamlet would, I thought as I followed Rosie's footsteps over to the dark side.

 

TWELVE

Edwin arrived only a few minutes after we relieved Hamlet of his search duty in the warehouse. I didn't have a chance to ask about addresses or anything else, but by what must have been the same sort of fortuitous magic that brought us together so easily and quickly via the Internet advertisement, Edwin and I were again on the same wavelength.

After our somber greetings and Rosie's delivery of the message from the police, Edwin explained that the book I'd found was for Birk, the man dressed in gold at the auction, and asked me if I'd like to go with him to deliver it. There was something about the way he asked that made me think the errand was more than a simple book delivery.

“Of course,” I said.

We were silent as he steered the Citroën through the city. I decided that the only time I'd known the real Edwin was on our first phone call, my interview. So much had fallen apart since I'd arrived that my boss had transformed from his clever, delightful, and witty phone self to a brother in mourning. I felt terrible for him, but I knew there wasn't much I could do or say to help him move through the process.

“Edwin,” I said, interrupting the quiet.

“Aye?”

“Why are we delivering this to Birk?”

“It's the book he wanted.”

“No, I mean, why us? You and me. If book delivery is one of my tasks, I'm happy to do it, but something tells me there's more. Do you think he had something to do with Jenny's murder?”

He glanced at me briefly, his eyebrows high. “Gracious, Delaney, how did you come tae think such a thing?”

“Just because, I suppose. Do you want to let me in on what we're trying to get out of him, or why you think he might have somehow been involved?”

Edwin smiled my direction, but turned his sad eyes back to the road again quickly. “You're a clever lass. Tae be clear, I don't think Birk murdered my sister, but if she was killed because of the Folio, I want tae know the real story of how and where it came from. I think there's not one thing wrong with you learning the real story with me.”

“Did Birk know Jenny?”

“Aye. All of my friends knew my sister.”

I nodded and paused briefly. “What about Monroe and his black eye?”

“I don't know where Monroe received his black eye, but I don't think it was a blow from Jenny's fist, if that's what you're asking.”

“What about Genevieve?”

“Genevieve Begbie?”

“Yes, Rosie mentioned that Genevieve and Jenny had a rough time.”

“Rosie, such blether. No, that was decades ago.”

“Broken hearts sometimes stay broken, even after decades pass.”

“No,” Edwin said, but I heard a tinge of doubt in his voice.

I let him think through the rudimentary ideas I'd thrown out.

“Did you have a chance to call the police?” I asked a moment later, though I knew he hadn't. We'd been in the same room since Rosie had given him the message, and I hadn't seen him on a phone.

“No, I will though.”

“Do you think Hamlet told them about the Folio?”

“No, I know he didn't.” All doubt was gone from his voice.

I nodded. If he was sure, I was sure too. At least for now.

We'd traveled toward the northwest part of Edinburgh, and the castle was nowhere in sight. A moment or two after turning into a clearly affluent neighborhood, Edwin steered the Citroën up a steep and curved driveway. The grass next to the driveway was green and groomed to perfection, and seemingly endless. There were no big trees, but there were a few precisely manicured shrubs here and there, and the lawn might have stretched all the way to the sea for all I could tell.

“Oh, my goodness,” I said when we turned another curve and then reached the top of the hill. I'd never seen anything like the house, no, mansion—or was it a castle? No, not a castle. It was a mansion that verged on being a castle, probably something like Edwin's home estate.

“This place is stunning,” I said.

“Aye, it's quite nice,” Edwin said genuinely after we got out of the car. “Come along.”

I carried the book and followed Edwin the rest of the way up the curved driveway and then onto a granite walkway. I didn't want to be intimidated, but I couldn't help it. It seemed like my clothes and shoes didn't fit quite right, like I'd been transported to another planet instead of just another country. I gave myself a silent pep talk and waited next to Edwin as he knocked an even rhythm with the giant golden knocker on one of the two wide, also gold, front doors.

Edwin leaned over and quietly said, “Birk's a direct descendant of our own King Henry. He might mention that to you if he didn't already at the auction. Don't act impressed, or he'll go on and on.”

“Birk Blackburn. Sounds like a pirate's name.”

“Oh, lass, don't tell him that. He would like the idea too much, manipulate it into something romantic and legendary.”

The door opened.

“Edwin, my friend, I am so sorry about Jenny. My heart is breaking for you,” Birk said. He glanced my direction and nodded once.

Again, Birk was clad in mostly gold. His robe was gold silk with red trim; the pipe in his hand was carved from dark wood, but was also trimmed in gold. The tobacco scent was pleasant, but I stifled an urge to wrinkle my nose as a thick pocket of aroma traveled directly toward my nostrils.

“Thank you, Birk,” Edwin said. “We've brought your book.”

“Welcome. Come in.” Birk stood back as the door swung wider and then back another step as I entered. The inside of the house matched the man. Everything seemed unbearably ostentatious and gilded in gold. There was no way all the extravagant items I saw could possibly be real, genuine gold, could they? I'd never known anyone who had real gold picture frames, real gold tiles on the walls, along with golden accented tables and chairs. It was unreal.

“Wow,” I said because I couldn't help myself.

“Aye, it's quite a place isn't it?” Birk said proudly.

“Yes, Birk, quite a place,” Edwin said.

I didn't think that the thread of irritation I heard in Edwin's voice and Birk's false manner could be because of jealousy, but they didn't
behave
as if they were friends. No, that wasn't it, I realized. They behaved as if they were friends, but spoke to each other in unfriendly tones. I needed to gain a clearer understanding of their relationship.

Birk's eyes landed on the book I held. I handed it to him, suddenly realizing I'd been holding on to it very tightly.

“Lovely. Come in. I have whisky or tea or coffee. And I must tell you about King Henry. On this day of mourning it might be the cheer-up we all need.” Birk looked at me with a hint of his dazzling smile.

I didn't want whisky, and the idea that I wanted to wait to try it in Tom's pub ran through my mind. I didn't want to be rude, though. I glanced at Edwin and he took the lead.

“Coffee would be perfect,” Edwin said.

Birk clapped his hands together with two hard hits. I waited for some lights to turn off or on, but instead a woman entered through a side hallway.

“Aye?” she said. Her eyes were dull and bored and framed by lots of sagging skin. Her roundish body didn't seem as old as her face, but I thought she must have been in her sixties. She was dressed in a classic maid's outfit—conservative black dress, white apron, white cap.

“Coffee and something sweet, please, Ingy,” Birk said.

“Aye, sir,” she said before she turned and shuffled away.

“Ingy's been with me forever. I'm very fond of her,” Birk said.

I'd seen no sign of fondness from either of them but I nodded and smiled.

“Come, please sit down,” Birk said as he stepped through an entryway to his right. The room was big, cavernous, and filled with even more gold stuff—the fireplace mantel, the mirror frame, the furniture armrests, some threads through the large rug, and the corner pieces on the bookshelves, just to note a few.

“Have a seat, Delaney,” Edwin said.

I sat on one of the chairs, Edwin on another. Birk sat on a couch and crossed his legs, one of his hairy calves becoming exposed. If he decided to change positions, I really hoped he had underwear on, but something about Birk told me he might not like underwear.

He was the second man I'd seen in his robe. Was it a Scottish thing, or a coincidence?

“Thank you for the book, Edwin. You really didn't need tae bring it out today. It could have waited,” Birk said. He'd set the book on the couch and gingerly opened the cover with his index finger. It wasn't an extremely valuable copy, but I appreciated the careful maneuver.

“I'm sorry about the delay, Birk. I should have brought it a couple days ago, and then circumstances caused some distraction.”

Birk closed the book and gave his full attention to Edwin. “Such tragic news.”

“Aye, well, thank you for your condolences, but I have an ulterior motive for coming out today. As I explained tae you at the auction, Delaney will be taking over most of my duties. I think it's best tae begin training someone when I'm healthy.”

“I understand,” Birk said as he sat up a little straighter. I saw more of his knee, but everything else remained covered. He looked at me. “Edwin MacAlister doesn't trust many people with his secrets, Delaney. You must be very special.”

“I hope I can be what he needs me to be. And I have a question,” I said.

“Aye?” Birk said.

Edwin jumped in before I could ask. “I know you told her about the Folio, Birk, but I haven't told her how you found it. I want tae make sure the story is true. If it isn't, I hope you'll tell us the true version today.” Edwin looked at me. “According tae Birk, it was something discovered in the depths of one of our old and haunted places. We have lots of secrets, hidden places, and as I've mentioned lots of ghosts.”

“I can't wait to explore,” I said as the hair stood up on my arms.

“Actually, it was one of my acquaintances who found the item, and then put it in a place where I had tae search for it,” Birk said with an unequivocal tone. “We don't know where it had been for so long before that. I was sent on a treasure hunt. And my story is true.”

“Treasure hunt?” I said.

“That's what we were all told,” Edwin said.

“And, that's certainly what happened,” Birk said, his mouth pinched obstinately.

“Oh?” I said as expectantly as I could.

Then Birk said something that surprised me. I saw a flash of the same surprise in Edwin's eyes, but he recovered quickly.

“So, have you seen it? What do you think? Edwin wanted you tae see it,” Birk said. He sat forward on the couch and lowered his voice now.

“Not yet,” I said as evenly as possible, wishing Edwin had prepped me better.

It was that moment when I realized that what I'd learned about my boss, from our interview and Rosie's blether, was an incomplete picture. On our original call, he was curious, listened intently. According to Rosie, Edwin was good-hearted but scatterbrained, perhaps even somewhat foolish. I'd known on some level he was also smart, but it became clear at that moment that he was very smart. Edwin hadn't prepped me for this conversation because he wanted spontaneity. It was his way of judging whether or not Birk knew the Folio was missing.

The disappointment showed in Birk's face, though I wasn't sure who he was more disappointed in, me or Edwin. Nevertheless, it was genuine, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Edwin tilt his head just enough to acknowledge to himself that Birk, in fact, most likely didn't know the Folio was missing.

“So, it's a real First Folio? That's quite a discovery,” I said.

“Birk says it is,” Edwin said. “I believe it is.”

“It's real,” Birk said. “Look it over, front tae back. I will gladly give back every pound paid for it and put it back up for auction if there are any concerns or questions, or even if you change your mind, Edwin. I know many bidders regretted not continuing tae participate in the auction. Bring it back tae me this afternoon. I'll have the money.”

Edwin's shoulders relaxed slightly. Another sign. “Thank you, Birk. I appreciate that, but I'm going tae keep it.”

“Why didn't you just have Delaney look at it before you came here?” Birk asked.

Edwin shrugged.

“I don't understand. You're baurmie, old man, a fool,” Birk said, but then he smiled a big white toothy grin, and I thought I finally saw the friendship between the two men.

Edwin's mobile phone jingled.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said as he stood, pulled the phone out of his pocket, and left the room.

“Birk, please tell me the whole story of how you obtained the Folio,” I said as his eyes tracked Edwin's departure.

Birk sat back and put the pipe in his mouth. He held the mouthpiece with his teeth a moment. Then he closed his lips around the pipe, lit it, and pulled and puffed once.

“How much do you know about Edinburgh?” he said.

I laughed. “Very little, really, but I'm excited to learn more. I did some research before arriving, but barely scratched the surface.”

“You know how haunted we are, or you have some idea?”

“Well, I suppose.”

“Aye, we're haunted tae the very core of our buried bones. History, battles fought, both lost and won. Good, bad. We're a mix of it all. You'll see. You'll come upon a ghostie or two while you're here. Everyone does.”

He was so sincere that I held back the conspiratorial wink or doubtful agreement that would usually go with such comments.