The Cracked Spine (25 page)

I didn't believe that's what he was doing, but that was based upon lots of assumptions that weren't backed up by many facts.

“Could he be hurt? In danger?” I asked.

“No,” Rosie said, but she was worried too; I could hear it in her voice.

“Rosie, should we call the police?”

“No! No, Edwin wouldnae like that no matter what he's up tae. He'll call. He always does.”

I thought about calling the police myself but Rosie probably still wouldn't tell me enough to make it a concern worth checking out, and I'd already given the police too little information once today.

“Will you call me if he calls you?”

“Of course. Go. Have fun.”

“I will be trying my first real Scottish whisky.” I didn't count the small sip I'd already taken.

Rosie straightened and Hector lifted his head.

“Ye're not a drinker?” Rosie said.

“Not really.”

“Oh, dear, perhaps I should go with and act as chaperone.”

“I'll be fine. I'll only try a sip or two.”

The concern remained.

“Really, I'll be okay. I know how to control myself.”

It's a great advantage not to drink among hard-drinking people.

I didn't hear the words as if the character Jordan Baker from
The Great Gatsby
was speaking them, but I
thought
them. Forced them. I could tell the difference. I'd heard them before and the moment seemed appropriate to hear them now.

“Don't we have a copy of
The Great Gatsby
in the shop?” I asked.

“I think. Do ye need tae see it?” Rosie said.

“No, thanks. Sorry. I got distracted. Strange.” What was going on?

“Aye?” Rosie said. “Ye awright, lass?”

“Fine.” I smiled.

As Rosie and Hector bid me good-bye I had the sense that they felt as though they were also saying good-bye to my innocence.

Did I really seem that untarnished? I couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

I made my way the short distance up the hill and stopped outside the open door to the pub. I peered inside. If it wasn't as advertised—the smallest pub in Scotland—it was at least one of them. Including the bar along the back wall, the space couldn't have been ten feet by ten feet. And it was currently very crowded.

There were no chairs or table-chair sets, but there were posts along the side wall that held small tabletops. Most people inside held their drinks, as they looked up at the television that had been placed on the wall over the door. I stretched my neck and peered upward to see what had everyone's attention—it was a soccer game.

“Football. It's called football here,” I muttered to myself.

“Delaney.” Tom came through the crowd and greeted me. “Welcome tae the pub named after my great-great-grandmother, but tonight we'll name it in your honor. Come along. We've got a table next door, but I'd like tae introduce ye to Rodger.”

Tom grabbed my hand and led me the short but crowded distance to the back.

“This is not ideal, I know,” he said as we stopped at the end of the bar. “I promise tae take you out on a real date next time.”

I suddenly wondered if this was how he handled all his first dates. It was a convenient way to get to know someone without worrying too much about awkward silences, because there wasn't going to be a moment of silence in the bar for many hours ahead. If this way turned out to be a bust, we wouldn't have to try again in a more intimate setting. It wasn't a bad idea.

“Hi, ye're Delaney from America. I'm Rodger.” A young man from behind the bar wiped his hands on his dirty white apron and extended one my direction. He spoke loudly, but quickly. He was skinny and somewhere in his forties, I thought. His smile was charming in an overbite way and the cowlick above the right side of his forehead was maybe the best cowlick I'd ever seen.

“Nice to meet you, Rodger,” I said.

“Tom's been awfully nervous since he told me ye'd be coming over.”

“Really?”

“No telling house secrets, Rodg. Get back tae work,” Tom said good-naturedly.

Rodger sent me an exaggerated wink and turned to greet a customer.

“Sorry about that,” Tom said.

“Not a problem. Were you really nervous?”

“I was actually,” he said. “It's been some time since I've been nervous for a date. I'm going tae blame it on the fact that you're not from here, and I was worried I might do something so Scottish that I would offend an American.”

I laughed. “That would be very difficult. The view from America, well, I suppose I should speak for my view only, is that everything Scottish is fascinating. The accent, the clothes—well, kilts and such”—dangit, here came the blush—“the bagpipes, the Scottish attitude, though I must admit that I'm not really sure exactly what the Scottish attitude is other than it appears to be somewhat carefree and happy, though very patriotic.”

Tom looked at me a long moment with a small and amused smile. I tried very hard not to look away from his questioning cobalt eyes. I was pleased with myself that I managed to hold his gaze.

“You know, I can't say I've come tae know many Americans,” he said. “The few ones I have met were tourists making their way through town. One had clearly had more than enough whisky. I think I put him in a cab and wished him well. One was here in search of his ancestors. He was an old man and he leaned on the bar for hours and hours, three or four days in a row. He didn't like tae talk much and didn't want my conversation, but he was friendly enough.”

“That's it? Just two that were memorable?”

“No, many others. Those are just the ones that made the biggest impressions on me.”

“Ye're the first American he's asked on a date, though,” Rodger added.

“How can you hear us? You should be taking care of customers,” Tom said.

Rodger shrugged and lifted two liquor bottles, turned them upside down, and poured from each bottle into a glass. “Yer voices carry right tae me.”

“I'm truly sorry about this,” Tom said to me. “This is a lousy first date, but I didn't want tae wait another day tae ask you. Rodger's got everything under control, but he might need some help during the matches. They'll be over soon and we can head right next door tae the restaurant.”

“I think it's fun. You did mention that you'd serve me my first true Scottish whisky.”

“Of course.” He leaned over the bar, grabbed a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of whisky. After pouring and giving me my glass, he held his up and said, “Cheers! Let me know what you think.”

I lifted the glass and sniffed. It was most definitely strong; even the whiff burned the back of my throat. I took a small, way-too-ladylike sip, but bigger than the one I'd taken in the other pub.

It burned, but not in an altogether unpleasant way, as it slid down my throat and landed softly in my stomach.

Tom had waited until I'd tried it before he quickly downed his.

“Confession time,” I said. “I'm not much of a drinker so I imagine this will last me all evening, but it's pretty good.”

Tom smiled again. “I typically don't drink at all when I'm working, so we'll be mostly even.”

“You don't?”

“Well, I must admit, I enjoy my whisky as much as any good Scot, but it's a good plan tae lay off the stuff when the bar's open. Did you like it?”

“I didn't hate it,” I said.

Tom laughed so genuinely that I forgot we were really on a date.

The next couple of hours sped by like something I hadn't experienced in a long time. The crowd expanded and contracted, cheered and booed the soccer … football game, and interjected a song I didn't recognize every now and then. Before long, the football matches were over and we moved to a table in the Irish restaurant that was not just next door to Tom's pub, it was attached to it, a walk-through hole in the wall separating the two places.

I told Tom about my family. My parents and my brother and my numerous relatives spread throughout the Midwestern United States. I told him about growing up on a small Kansas farm, about Wichita, and about the museum I'd worked at since college. He thought my preserved buffalo was as interesting as Edwin and Birk had thought it was.

I learned about his life with his single father, the original owner of the pub but who was now a librarian at the University of Edinburgh, the death of his mother when he was barely a couple of months old, and his aunt who turned out to be the major motherly influence in his life and was still alive, eccentric now to the point of him worrying about her mental health.

“I think she needs tae be … monitored—I dislike that word very much. But I'm not sure how much longer we can leave her alone. I work, my dad works. We stop by her house every day, but we're starting tae be concerned about her eating and caring for herself in between those times,” Tom said.

“I'm sorry. It's tough to watch our loved ones grow old,” I said.

He waved away the comment. “Och, I'm sorry. Let's not be melancholy about that. Anyway, how's Edwin? I've stopped by a couple of times tae check on him but he hasn't been in.”

“He's sad. Everyone's sad. The police are still searching for the killer. I think they have some suspicions about Edwin.” I didn't think it was appropriate to mention that it seemed none of us had heard from him that day.

“That's not too surprising.”

“It's not?”

“Sure. Jenny put Edwin through hell more than once. She was a mess. Though I doubt very much that Edwin had it in him tae kill his sister. Hamlet, Rosie under suspicion too?”

“Not Rosie as much, I don't think.”

“But Hamlet?”

“I think so.”

“His past is checkered tae say the least, but he couldn't kill anyone, unless…”

“Unless?”

“That was just me talking without thinking, but he was a pretty good little thief, particularly for a young lad. Do you know his story?”

“I know some, about being orphaned and Edwin taking him in,” I said.

“If the police know his past, they might suspect him just because he's an easy person tae suspect, someone who was up tae no good at one time. A lot of no good. I don't know. Even though Edwin's taken care of Hamlet, they've had their tough moments. Jenny gave them all tough moments. I don't want tae think any of them could have killed her though.”

“You know them fairly well, don't you?”

“We've been neighbors for many years. Edwin opened The Cracked Spine when I was just a wee'un. I like tae read. I would come tae the pub with my dad, and when I got bored I escaped tae the bookshop. It was a good place tae go, and Edwin always welcomed me, found me books.”

“Do you know if Jenny was ever truly sober for very long? I mean, more than a day or two in a row.”

“Certainly. I think so. I guess I can't be totally sure because though I know Edwin, Rosie, and Hamlet well, I never did know Jenny as much as I knew
of
her. I heard the stories, but I'm fairly certain that she had some good spurts. Aye, I heard as much, I think.”

I nodded. “One of her neighbors said she didn't, that she was never really sober. Not for any stretch of time at least.”

Tom blinked and took a sip from his glass of water. “Neighbor? You talked tae her neighbor?”

“I did. I went to her building and snooped around.”

“Really? Does Edwin know?”

“Kind of.”

“I see. Well, I don't want tae offend you, particularly on our first date and considering my plans of scheduling our second date before we say good night tonight, but it would tend tae worry me if you were spending too much time at Jenny's building. I know where she lived, and I don't think it's a great place for you tae be.”

I looked at Tom for a long moment. I wasn't offended. “Where are we going on our second date?”

Tom laughed. “I think we should try something quieter, perhaps with a little more privacy.”

“Sounds nice.”

“So, you'll accept?”

“You'll have to ask first.”

“It's not quite the end of the evening yet, so we'll see how it goes. But before we take this any further, I'm going tae be an arse and ask you something you're trying to avoid. You'll stay away from Jenny's building, won't you?”

“I will not go there by myself. I haven't told you about the other parts of my new Edinburgh family. I've met a man, a cabdriver.”

“Is he as handsome as the pub proprietor you know?”

“His wife probably thinks so,” I said, though I suspected Aggie would find Tom plenty handsome too.

“I like him already.”

I told Tom about Elias and Aggie and their home and my new home. I told him that Elias had come with me on two of my visits to Jenny's flat and neighborhood. I didn't tell him about my first visit to a pub, and I didn't tell him about the puzzle sitting on my kitchen table. That one was still a secret for me, Elias, and Aggie, or at least it felt like it should be.

As Tom listened I noticed that when he was concerned about something, his left eyebrow angled and his forehead creased. It might have been the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. This date was going very well, at least on my part. I couldn't remember the last time I thought someone's eyebrow angle was endearing.

“Sounds like Elias knows what's what,” Tom said after I explained his protective nature. “I'm sure he'll be careful.”

I nodded and tried not to smile too goofily at his eyebrow.

The evening didn't come to an end as much as a soft landing. After dinner we moved back to the mostly empty pub and sat on stools that Rodger brought out from the back. When the pub had been closed for an hour, one customer still remained. An old man named Johnathan was standing at one of the tables. He was hunched over his still half-full pint mug and would lift his head and take a drink every now and then, though the level of liquid in his glass didn't seem to change. I kept expecting him to topple over, but he never did.