Unfortunately, things didn’t go as we hoped.
As we drove toward my cottage, a surprise turn of events that had nothing to do with The King’s Wark, Kate, Billy, or distractions with Tom brought the romance to a screeching halt.
Tom’s employee Rodger called just as we turned onto my street. A pipe had burst and Tom’s pub was flooding.
With a quick stop on the street in front of the guesthouses, and an even quicker kiss, Tom let me off at the curb and told me that he was sorry and that he’d call me in the morning.
It wasn’t even eleven o’clock as I made my way around the guesthouses and Elias and Aggie’s small cottage. Lights were off in the McKenna cottage, but that wasn’t a surprise. They were early to bed and even earlier risers.
I played over the events of the day and decided that even if I didn’t see Edwin soon, I needed to call him and ask about SPEC.
* * *
The bookshop’s Sunday hours were listed on the door sign as: Sunday—sometimes we’re here, sometimes not, but give us a ring if it’s something urgent. And then Edwin’s phone number. There hadn’t been many Sunday book emergencies, but a few over the years.
I’d go in tomorrow anyway and get some work done, with the hope that Edwin would be there and I wouldn’t have to call him. He sometimes liked to hang out in the warehouse with me on Sundays and share stories.
My thoughts had moved so far away from the present moment that it took me a long minute to notice the things on the top of the small coffee table only a couple yards inside the cottage’s front door. In fact, I smelled them before I saw them.
A bouquet of roses.
“Oh,” I said quietly.
By nature Tom wasn’t the most romantic guy but he liked to give me flowers. I liked that too.
I didn’t have to read the card to know the roses were in celebration of the anniversary of our first date, though I had to count back to realize that we’d now been a “couple” for five months. I’d received this same bouquet every month.
My mobile buzzed.
The text said: This evening didn’t go quite the way I’d planned. We’ll have a do-over.
I typed back: The flowers are perfect. Happy Five Months! Hope the pipe gets fixed. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Practical romance. It worked just fine.
I was one tired bookshop employee/murder investigator, though I’m sure I was still smiling as I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Once I started looking, I was surprised by how many dirks I found on the warehouse shelves. I speculated, backed up with quick Internet searches of their maker’s marks or handle designs, that at least one of them was likely much more valuable than the one I’d found on top of Castle Doune.
I discovered one tucked behind a torture device known as a heretic’s fork—a wicked-looking thing that was made to force confessions through sleep deprivation. I got sidetracked and spent too much time looking up the heretic fork’s history, but got back on task soon enough. I’d once asked Edwin why he’d chosen the torture devices as one of his collections, but he’d never given me a clear answer.
I found two dirks behind a stack of old, but not very old or valuable paperback books. And then I found one more under a wooden mug that might have been drunk from by a Scottish noble. I replaced the mug carefully on a separate shelf. My list of warehouse tasks only grew each time I explored.
My desire to search the warehouse for dirks had surprised me. I hadn’t woken up with the idea, but as I’d unlocked the shop’s front door with the hopes of finding Edwin inside, it seemed like the right thing to do. I found four dirks quickly and didn’t search deeper for others. If there were four, there were probably more though.
One of them was obviously a replica, something made probably even later than the one I’d found at the castle. Its dark handle felt like plastic and the dull blade might not be strong enough to cut into a watermelon. I set that one to the side.
I didn’t know how long it was from when they were used as weapons to when they were re-created as souvenirs, but it might not have been a stretch to think that a hundred years or so separated the versions. If a dirk wasn’t something made in the twentieth century, it was probably authentic and a century or more old. If Edwin didn’t realize this—and I’m sure he did but might not have given it much thought, it was my job to research the particulars and let him know.
One of the dirks had an eleven-inch blade, with a black and gold handle. Its sheath was also black and gold. I concluded that it was probably a piper’s dirk made for the Black Watch, a regiment group that fought against the Highlanders first during the Jacobite rebellion. I could see no mark on it that told me it was a replica; I found no maker’s mark at all. I’d show it to Joshua after I showed it to Edwin, but I suspected it was rare and probably valuable.
Carefully I held the dirk and wondered whose blood it had shed and why. As had happened with other items, I became overwhelmed by the amount of history each of these things had participated in making.
A knock sounded on the big red door.
I jumped up quickly and unlocked the deadbolt. I knew Edwin’s knock.
“Hi,” I said. “Come in. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Working Sunday again?” Edwin said. He looked less disheveled than when I’d last seen him, but his eyes were weary and rimmed in pink. He hadn’t slept much these last few nights.
“I am. I like the quiet,” I said as I shut the door and turned the deadbolt.
“I do too.”
“Come sit.”
There was no excited anticipation between us this morning like there was most Sunday mornings. No hope to share a fun memory or old adventure today.
“Edwin, I’m so sorry for everything you’re going through. I’m sorry for whatever part I played in the terrible and shocking news,” I said after we were both seated.
“Lass, none of this was your fault. I’m sorry I got you involved. I should have just met with Billy myself.”
“You couldn’t have predicted how it would go.”
Edwin pulled an ankle up to his knee, and I noticed his attire. I wondered if he ever wore jeans. Even on Sundays, Edwin dressed to the nines. Today it was pressed tan slacks and a brown sweater.
I was wearing jeans, which were acceptable on any day of the week apparently, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear them to the shop any other day but Sunday.
“Oh! Dirks!” Edwin said when he noticed the items on my desk. “How lovely. What are you doing with them?”
“I found these on the shelves. One seems like a replica, a modern souvenir, but I’m looking into these others. I think this one was used by the Black Watch.”
I held it toward Edwin.
“It’s possible. I’m sure I acquired this from an old woman from a Highland village, though I can’t remember exactly where she said she lived. She came tae the shop just tae show this tae me. She said she’d heard about my treasures, but I, of course, wouldn’t confirm or deny. She wanted tae give the dirk tae me, but I insisted on paying her something. I fear I didn’t give her enough if it’s from the Black Watch.”
“Well, I don’t know for sure yet, and I need to look into these others too, but you might want to consider them all for auction.”
“You might be right. We have a number of members who enjoy weapons. I didn’t know I had more than a couple.” Edwin leaned forward and looked at the two other dirks on the desk. The blade of the white-handled one was long and vicious. The blade of the mahogany-handled one was partially serrated and just as intimidating.
“There might be more. I’ll let you know what I find,” I said. “But the thing that sparked my desire to look for these this morning is something else I found. I should have told you about it but … well, I just didn’t. And … I was hoping to see you today.” I lifted my phone from the desk and scrolled to my pictures. “I don’t think it had anything to do with Billy Armstrong’s murder, but I found it near where we found him. I went up later that same night with Tom to look for any sign of the handwritten story that was supposed to be included in the book. This isn’t authentic. It’s a souvenir made about the mid-nineteen hundreds.”
I held the phone out for Edwin to see. “It’s interesting though, isn’t it … Edwin?”
My boss’s face had paled and he blinked rapidly, his eyes in the general direction of the phone but not really looking at it anymore.
I’d done it again.
I hurried around to him. “Are you okay?” I reached for my mobile to call 999.
Edwin put up his hand. “I’m fine, Delaney. No need tae call anyone. You surprised me again, that’s all.”
“I promise I’m going to stop doing that. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. I’m … Tell me exactly where you found it.” He reached for the phone on the desk but then pulled his hand back before he reached it.
“On top of Castle Doune, under the stone wall that was next to the stairs where we found Billy. I had begun to think it didn’t have anything to do with his murder. Do you think it did?”
“No, please don’t call anyone. I … don’t think this has anything tae do with the boy’s murder. But I do think it was meant for me, part of the message that Gordon wanted tae give me.”
“What’s it mean?” I said as I stood and went back to my chair. His color was returning.
Edwin shook his head. “I can’t tell you, my dear. But I do promise you sincerely and deeply, I’m sure it had nothing tae do with Billy’s manner of death.”
“But it could have contributed to the reason he was killed?” I said, thinking as quickly as I could through his word play. He looked at me and blinked.
“No, I think it’s more likely that it was dropped accidentally. There’s no mistaking that this is something only Gordon and I would understand. I doubt even Billy understood the message his father was relaying to me. And, frankly, no one else would care. And I don’t think it was the reason he was killed. No, that wouldn’t make sense. Where’s the dirk now?”
“I gave it to the police,” I said. I watched him closely for another reaction.
“I see,” he said, not bothered. “You’ve been busy.”
“I have, and I’d really like to know what the dirk means to you, what the message was. Please tell me.”
He stood. I thought his legs might be shaky, but they weren’t.
“I will, I promise, but now I must find Gordon. I need tae talk to him.”
“Edwin, there was more,” I said as I picked up my phone again.
He sat in the chair again as I scrolled to the picture of the business card.
“I found this by the dirk, and I know that Billy was involved with this woman, Grizel Sheehy. They had a public argument in Stirling, where Billy volunteered. On Tuesday, he slapped her. As a result, he was asked to not come back to portray William Wallace ever again.”
“Was she hurt?” Edwin asked.
“Not physically, but I’m sure the entire scene was awful.”
“Aye,” Edwin said as anger lit briefly in his eyes. “Unacceptable behavior, but I’m sure he was devastated about his mistake.”
“I don’t think the gentlemen who run the group were accepting apologies,” I said. “I can’t put the pieces of information together so they lead to a killer, but I think they somehow must. The police seem to be on the same trail, but they don’t know about Gordon. I think you should tell them he’s alive, even if that fact has nothing to do with his son’s murder.”
“I can’t do that, Delaney. The news would devastate Fiona emotionally and financially.”
“You could help her out financially if you wanted to, and she’d eventually recover emotionally,” I said. “It’s the only right thing to do.”
“Even if Gordon is dying?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
I knew that exceptionally rich people were often called upon to save those who weren’t their responsibility just because money could solve financial problems, and if you had so much you wouldn’t miss giving some away. I never did like that line of reasoning; if I didn’t think that in some old-friendship way Edwin was responsible for Fiona at least slightly, I would not have suggested he help her.
“I’m not prepared tae tell the police that,” he said. “I will talk tae Gordon first, and then maybe.”
“Do you think the story Gordon was talking about was written on a piece of paper, or was the dirk the story?”
Edwin cocked his head and looked at me. Slowly a sad smile overtook his features.
“Excellent, Delaney. I think you might be onto something. It hadn’t occurred tae me but now I don’t think there ever was a written story. The dirk says it all. Gordon would never have admitted that in front of everyone here, and I was so angry with him and so devastated by Billy’s death … No, there was no story, I’m sure. The annual and the dirk tell the story he wanted me tae know.”
Edwin stood again and moved toward the door.
I scurried out of my chair. “May I come with you to talk to him?”
“No, not today.”
“Edwin?”
“I’m sorry, lass. Forgive me, but there are some things that each of us must attend tae alone. It’s just the way it is.”
I nodded. I was confused and concerned. I hadn’t expected these turns at all, and Edwin wasn’t just my boss.
“I’ll ring you later. After I talk tae Gordon, I will want tae talk tae someone. I will ring you,” he said.
“All right,” I said hopefully. “I’ll keep my phone right next to me.”
I locked the warehouse door behind him again but then remembered I’d forgotten to ask him about SPEC.
Hurriedly, I unlocked the door, had to lock it again because that was the rule—never, ever leave the door unlocked—ran up one side of stairs, down the other side, and then out through the front door. There was no sign of Edwin or his Citroën.
I tried to reach him on his mobile, but he didn’t answer.
“Now what?” I said as I bit my bottom lip. I looked up toward Tom’s pub and answered my own question.