“I know we’d be happy to take a look at it. I’m not usually the one to determine the value, just authenticity, but I can get you to the right person if that’s what you want to know,” I said.
“Grassmarket?” she asked.
“Yes.” I gave her the address and watched her closely.
“I will try tae stop by soon,” she said after a brief hesitation.
I inspected her gray eyes. She’d put the pieces together possibly, but she wasn’t completely sure. I smiled.
“Thank you for your time, and we’d love to see you at the shop,” I said as I pushed on the door.
“Lass? What are the titles of the books you want to talk to Bryon about?”
“An Atlas of Illustrations of Clinical Medicine, Surgery and Pathology, from the early twentieth century.”
She didn’t hide her surprise. She lifted her eyebrows and blinked as her mouth made an O. She finally spoke, “Hand-drawn illustrations?”
“Yes. You know about the books? Oh, of course you do. I’m sure most medical school professors and doctors would know about them.”
She half-smiled once again. I wondered if that was her only smile. “Well, I’ve heard of them, and Dr. Eban, Bryon, will be very happy tae talk tae you about them. I have your address. I’ll have him ring you. It won’t be today … the death … but I’m sure he’ll want tae meet with you soon.”
“I look forward to it. I’m truly sorry for your loss. Someone in your family or your husband’s?”
“Neither. A student.” She looked at me, and her eyes hardened. She’d definitely put all the pieces together. I would answer honestly if she asked me any questions, but I held back from offering anything more. I’d dug myself in deep enough. Time to cut myself loose.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” I said, pushing on the door some more.
“Goodbye, lass.”
She nodded once, curtly, and then motioned for me to go, almost swept me away. I did leave, and she locked the door behind me before she turned and walked back toward the hallway. I heard her quick footsteps fade away.
I took the locking door personally and wanted to check it just to make sure. It was definitely locked tight.
It had been a meeting of mixed, and confusing, messages. I hadn’t had a plan, and the one I’d improvised had been less than ideal.
However, in a way, I now understood the “fierce” description regarding Dr. Carson’s persona, and I wondered how she might use that fierceness to put her husband in his place, if that’s what she did. Though I’d wanted to talk to Dr. Eban, I found Dr. Carson just as interesting, if not more so. However, I didn’t know what to make of either of them.
I decided she’d probably still pass along the message about the books. If she was the type of person I thought she was, she would use any excuse to question her husband about me, no matter that we didn’t really know each other and that chances were he’d forgotten all about meeting me.
“Hello.” A female voice pulled my concentration away from the door.
“Lola, hello,” I said to the woman I’d only formally met this morning. I didn’t jump in my skin as much this time. She didn’t look any the worse for wear.
“Small world,” she said. “I assumed earlier, but are you a student here?”
“No,” I said. I looked back at the office building. “Long story why I was here today.” I looked at her and the backpack slung over her shoulder. “Are you here to study?”
“On my way to a group project meeting now. Glad to get my mind off what happened to Mallory, but I’m not a fan of group projects.”
“I remember that feeling,” I said.
She was so young that, unfairly in my mind, she seemed on the opposite end of the spectrum from Dr. Carson. Her dark ponytail fell all the way to the middle of her back and her large blue eyes shone even bluer against her matching sweater and her fair, smooth skin. There were no red eyes, no red splotches, but she looked tired. It would have taken me a couple of days to bounce back if I’d been crying as hard as she had been. She had a pixie nose that somehow looked refined, but I imagined it had been cute when she was a little girl.
“What year are you?” I continued as I stepped next to her.
“What year do you think?” she asked.
“Freshman?”
“No. It’s my last year. I get mistaken for a new student all the time.”
“Nothing wrong with looking young.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“What are you studying?”
“I have to get to my group, but walk with me if you’d like,” she said.
We fell into a comfortable but quick pace.
“I’m studying economics,” Lola said. “My mother is from the U.S. and my grandfather is in banking in Virginia. I’m moving there after school, see if I like it.”
“An adventure?” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
I stopped walking before I said, “I’m sorry to bring this up again, but earlier you mentioned a rumor about Mallory and Dr. Eban.”
“Oh. That. I was upset, and I should never have said anything like that,” she said quickly. “You were right about rumors and all. I’m sorry.” She looked to her left quickly, toward George Square, a patch of short trees and green grass beyond some of the campus buildings, where students passed through, or relaxed when the weather allowed, which wasn’t often.
There were no events there today, and only a few students passing through.
I wondered what she’d seen or was looking for, but she moved her attention back to me before I could notice anything curious.
“You don’t think it’s true? The rumor?” I said.
“I really don’t
