The Cracked Spine (23 page)

“Nothing. Sorry. I was looking for Post-its and felt guilty when you caught me.”

“Ooch, it's not my desk. No need tae feel guilty. That's just where I sit most of the time. I do all the hard work in my office on the other side. The front desk is where we keep things like Post-its. Check the next drawer down.”

I did as she instructed and found exactly what I said I'd been looking for.

“Hamlet here? Edwin?” Rosie asked.

“No Edwin, but Hamlet is here. He's escorting me on an adventure in a few minutes if it's okay with you.”

“Only if ye tell me about the adventure when ye return.”

Hamlet joined us as I explained the plans. Rosie had no problem being left alone in the shop for a short time. As we left the shop she said sincerely, “Hope ye find the ghost.”

We walked up toward the Grassmarket Hotel and turned left onto the steep, curved Victoria Street. I thought we would go to the top of it to get to the Royal Mile, but halfway up Hamlet led us up some hidden stairs that got us there much more quickly. Once there we turned right and walked down the hill for only a couple of blocks.

We went through some doors under a Mary King's Close sign where inside we found a gift shop and a few young women dressed as though they were from the Middle Ages, in long skirts, long-sleeved shirts, aprons, and bonnets.

“Hamlet, what are you doing here?” a pretty blonde said from behind the gift shop counter.

“Mel, hello. This is Delaney. She's a new employee at The Cracked Spine and she really wanted tae see the close. When's the next tour?”

“A new employee? I've never heard of such a thing,” Mel said with a smile and a wink. “Hamlet's mentioned how few people work there. You must be special.”

“She is,” Hamlet said. “She's from Kansas in America.”

“Welcome to Edinburgh.”

We shook hands over the counter and Mel explained that she would be leading the day's first tour in only a few minutes. It was a small group so there would easily be room for us.

Before long, we were on our way and Mel transformed into Agnes, a woman who'd lived in a room on the close back when people really did live there. She led our small group down into the depths of the earth where, just as promised, we found the remnants of the city below the city. The space was preserved so that we could see and experience, from a welcome distance of time, the horrible living conditions, the tightly cramped spaces that were filled with so many people, the few windows. Back then windows were only carved out for the affluent.

Agnes explained how two times every day, the citizens of the city on the hill would throw their waste out the windows where it would roll downhill toward the Nor' Loch, or “lake” as I would have called it. Agnes also mentioned that at one time the loch was where women were thrown to determine if they were witches. If they drowned, they were found not to be a witch. If they didn't drown, they were determined to be a witch and had to face an even more brutal death than drowning in the place where everyone's waste ended up.

The Nor' Loch and the waste are all long gone, the area transformed into Princes Street Gardens, the park where Hamlet's play was currently being performed.

It was neither a clean nor sanitary way to live, and the plague descended upon the city twice, each time taking about three-quarters of the population with it.

I was so interested in the stories Agnes told, in the short stone walls and unbearably low ceilings, that I forgot why Hamlet and I were there until he gently grabbed my arm and said quietly, “The next room is the cow room. Just past the small milking stall, to your right, you'll see a low fireplace. That's where it was.”

The room still smelled, not of animal, but of something old and wrong. Agnes explained that the smell was genuine, that nothing had been done to either enhance or diminish it.

Hamlet and I stood toward the back of the crowd. When Agnes led everyone out of the room, we stayed behind and crouched down. Hamlet took a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it toward the fireplace.

“It's just a small indentation in the wall,” I said. “Nothing could have remained hidden here for very long. Even as dark as they keep it down here, it would have been seen. This is where Birk found the Folio? It doesn't seem possible.”

“Aye. That's what they—we—all said.”

Something brushed along the back of my neck and I thought I heard another voice in the room. It was faint, but clear.

I was pretty sure it said, “Go away.”

“Hamlet, did you hear that?” I said.

“Hear what?” he said, his question sincere.

Had I just come upon my first Edinburgh ghost? I sat still for a long few seconds and listened, hoping for another sensation to travel over my neck.

And then I got a little freaked out by the whole thing.

“I think we should go,” I said.

“Certainly.”

We caught up with the group and stayed with them the rest of the way, although I did look behind us more than once. By the time we emerged from the underground world and into a world with a menacing gray sky, I decided that I'd probably imagined the whole thing. Who wouldn't want an old Scottish ghost to visit them their first week in Scotland?

Yes, I was sure I imagined it.

 

TWENTY

Our adventure only took about an hour, and true to Hamlet's prediction we were back at The Cracked Spine before Edwin arrived.

Someone else was there though.

“Someone in the back tae see ye,” Rosie said quietly to me as a sly smile tugged at her lips.

“Who?”

“G'on back and see.”

I left Rosie, Hamlet, and Hector and hurried to the back, having to look around the wall to find the man holding a book open in his hands and looking intently at its contents.

“Hello,” Tom said with an almost shy smile. Surely this man never felt shy, did he?

“You're not wearing a kilt?” I said, but I put my hand up to my mouth immediately afterward. “Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know if that was rude, but it just sounded wrong.”

Tom laughed. “No. I wore one the past couple of days because I was attending a wedding, and the reception. It was quite a party. Nothing but work tae dress for today.”

“Oh,” I said. I cocked my head and looked at Tom Fletcher, and wondered again if he was real. When I'd decided to accept the position in Edinburgh, my highly imaginative mind had created scenarios and people attached to those scenarios. There had probably been a handsome Scottish pub owner among the people and scenarios. Was Tom Fletcher a figment of my imagination or was he, in fact, real?

Tom cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry,” I said as I shook my head. “Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so. I was wondering if you'd like supper and perhaps a try of that whisky after you're done here for the day? I have tae work, but there will be others tae tend tae the customers so that I could sit down for supper and we could talk. The pub is directly attached tae the restaurant next door, which happens to be an Irish restaurant, but I can bring some Scottish whisky over there for us. It's a strange date, tae be sure, but you work mostly during the times that I don't and the opposite too. I'd like tae have dinner with you, Delaney.”

Wow, oh wow, oh wow. He wasn't real at all, couldn't be, but I suddenly decided that was just fine.

“I would love to,” I said, not even skirting along the edge of playing hard to get.

“Perfect. You're done here about five o'clock?”

“Probably about five thirty or so. But, how about I just get there on my own. I'd hate for you to wait if something holds me up here. I'll get there as close to five thirty as possible.”

“I look forward tae it.” Tom smiled and his cobalt eyes lit brightly.

“Me too.” I wanted to dive into those eyes and traipse through the thoughts behind them. I hoped they were as fun as the thoughts I was having about him.

Tom nodded, placed the book back onto the shelf, and then stepped toward me.

“I'll walk you out,” I said.

The store wasn't deep so the trip to the front was quick. Hamlet, Rosie, and Hector watched unashamedly. Tom smiled at them and scratched behind Hector's ears before he left.

Once he was gone, I sighed and turned to my coworkers. “I'm not usually so pathetic. He's just a little bigger than life, and well…”

Hamlet laughed. “No need tae explain. He seems tae think the same of you. The sparks in here with you two might have burnt off my eyebrows. He was quite bold, I thought.”

“Is that the Scottish way?”

“Only if a girl turns a fella's head enough. I believe that's what's happened here.”

“That's never happened to me before.”

“I don't believe you.”

I laughed. “That sounds like I'm fishing for a compliment, but I'm not. Really. I've dated and had a boyfriend or two, but never gone out with someone like … like Tom.”

“You don't know him. Maybe he's a terrible person.”

“You know him. What do you two think?” I said, but I was oddly nervous to hear their answers.

“Tom's byous, wonderful, Delaney,” Rosie said. “He's neither mean nor terrible. I know he's currently single, but I've never seen him sae … smitten. I've seen him date a fair amount and I've never seen him give any of them that kind of a weighty look.”

“Is he a womanizer?”

“No, not at all! He's just never settled down, yet. Maybe he just hasnae found the right woman. Or maybe he has,” Rosie said.

Hamlet smiled and looked both youthful as well as old and wise.

“I'll let you know how it goes,” I said.

“I think you'll have a great time,” Hamlet said.

I shrugged, trying to look much more casual than I felt.

“I'm not sure if Edwin has a specific task for me to do today,” I said.

“You'll have many moments like that,” Rosie said. “You'll get in a rhythm, but Edwin doesnae give much direction. You can help Hamlet find some art.”

“I can do that.” I'd wished for a chance to close myself in the warehouse, maybe make some calls or do some online research of the Fleshmarket members, but the tasks for the shop were, of course, first priority. “What kind of artwork?”

Hamlet led us to the back where he unearthed two file cabinets that were in the corner, hiding underneath some old, dusty, folded throw rugs.

“A couple years ago Edwin decided tae build our maps and prints collections. It won't come as any surprise tae you that our acquisitions haven't been well organized. You've inspired me, though. I'm going tae help you get this place in order, Delaney. You can guide me, but for now we're searching these files for some pen and ink drawings of Doune Castle. It's not far from here. You'd enjoy seeing it.”

“What's so special that someone wants drawings of it?”

Hamlet smiled. “Aye, they are Monty Python fans.”

“Oh?”

“
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
was filmed there.”

“I definitely want to see the castle now.”

As we rifled through the messes in the file drawers I inspected Hamlet. He was earnest in his search, seemingly not distracted by anything else. Nothing terrible seemed to be weighing on his mind. I thought I'd seen guilt when I first came into the store, but maybe that was just more grief. He might have come upon the picture of Jenny and didn't want me to see his sadness. Was he the “good kid” I sensed he was, or was his past bad enough to control his actions? What could a bad childhood drive a young man to do?

“Hamlet, guess who I ran into last night?”

“I couldn't guess.”

“Gregory Heath.”

“Who?”

“He lives in Jenny's building, right across from the manager.”

“The man who's always in a robe?”

“That's the one.”

“Where in the world did you see him?”

Briefly, I recounted that I'd befriended a cabdriver and he'd given me a tour of the city the night before.

“We ran into him in a pub,” I said, changing the story a little.

“Of all people,” he said. “Was he in his bathrobe?”

“No, it was strange. He seemed different in regular clothes. Really different.”

“I can imagine. Did you talk tae him?”

“I did. Well, Elias, the cabdriver, and I did. Gregory said he knew Jenny well.”

“He did?” Hamlet sat up straight, leaning back from the file drawer. “How well did he know her?”

“He said they were friends for a long, long time.”

Hamlet nodded. “She lived there a long time. Jenny had a lot of friends, many of them undesirable, but I never knew her tae talk tae him, mention him. I didn't know him.”

“He's interesting, but not someone I'd want to spend a lot of time with.”

“Probably not. There aren't many in that building who you would, I promise you that.”

I nodded. “He said something that's been bothering me since the moment he said it.”

“Oh?”

“He said that Jenny was never sober. Not really. That she'd never had a stretch of more than a day or so of sobriety. Hamlet, is that true, do you think?”

Hamlet took the question seriously. He frowned and thought hard.

“I saw her sober, Delaney, and it was for more than one day at a time. I wasn't ever really with her for twenty-four hours in a row. But I probably saw her many days in a row, and she was sober. There was an obvious difference when she wasn't. It was easy tae see, and I saw that plenty too.”

I nodded and tried to act like it was no big deal. Except that it seemed I'd made him mad, or something. I could hear resistance in his tone.

“Did she get angry at you the night before she was killed?” I said.

“Mad? No, not even a little bit. Not happy I was there, but not mad.”