* * *
“You’re the lass from America.” The police officer sitting at the reception desk peered over his reading glasses at me. I didn’t remember seeing him before.
“I am,” I said. “Here to see…”
“Let me guess, Winters?”
“Yes.”
“Your reputation precedes you, lass.” He picked up a handset and pushed a few buttons.
“My reputation?”
“Aye, we’ve made jokes about sending you all our old cold cases.” He smiled. I hoped the jokes were good-natured.
“I’d take that job,” I said.
Right before Christmas, Edwin had received a box of items on his front porch. He’d asked me to see if I could figure out who they belonged to. My explorations had taken me down a strange path that led to a killer back in the 1960s. I hadn’t meant to find a killer, but I was glad I had, because as a result at least one of his victims had received some peace, if there was such a thing. My experience made me think there was.
Into the phone, the receptionist said, “Winters,” then pulled the phone away from his ear. “The lass from Kansas, is it?” I nodded, and he spoke back into the handpiece. “She’s here to see you. Uh-huh.” He looked at me again. “Another murder?”
“Uhm. I’m afraid so.”
“She’s done it again,” he said back into the phone. “Right, I’ll send her.” He hung up the phone. “Go on back. Winters said you’d know which room.”
“Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
I did know where to go. I opened the door to the interview room and made my way inside, taking a seat in the chair that I’d sat in a few times now. Inspector Winters was there only a moment later.
“Delaney?” he said as he closed the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My relationship with Inspector Winters had had a rocky beginning. I’d been in Scotland only a few days when we first met after the murder of Edwin’s sister. In the midst of falling in love with this beautiful country and all of its people, I was also trying to figure out who to trust. Initially, Inspector Winters wasn’t someone I’d deemed trustworthy. So our transition into what had become a mostly unsuspicious friendship had been a welcome one. But we were still at the “mostly” level.
“Nothing’s wrong. I mean … well, I wondered if you could answer a question.”
“Aye?” He took a seat in the chair across from me. I was glad I didn’t see a twinkle of humor in his eyes, something I expected after the greeting I’d received from the receptionist, though murder never really is funny. “How’s everyone at the bookshop? After yesterday, I mean.”
“We’ll be okay. I wasn’t sure … well, I thought you’d heard, but I just didn’t know what you know.”
“I was informed early on.” He took out the notepad and pen he always carried in his shirt pocket and put them on the table. He didn’t lift the cover on the notepad, though, which made the meeting feel unofficial. “I’m kept apprised of some things, particularly when the bookshop is involved. It’s in my precinct, but I wasn’t in on the early investigation so I’m a wee bit on the fringe of everything here.”
I nodded, though I was a tiny bit horrified that any police officer was apprised of the bookshop goings-on. And I really hoped it wasn’t because of me. “Have you talked to Inspector Pierce?”
“Not yet. I was hoping to sometime today. Why?”
“I just wondered. Have you heard if the way Mallory was killed has been determined?”
“Aye. Suffocation. In fact, there was residue on her hair from what was probably a plastic bag. It’s not a secret. It’s been released. The media will have it for tonight’s and tomorrow’s news.”
“That’s terrible,” I said. “Heartbreaking. Hamlet saw bruises on her neck.”
“It wasn’t strangulation, it was suffocation, but the bruises could have occurred with the bag being held over her head.”
“Oh.” I was glad I was sitting down as the room spun for a moment.
“Aye. Was that your question?” He moved the notepad and pen closer together on the table, but he still didn’t lift the cover.
“Yes … I wondered because. This is going to sound strange.”
“Delaney, you telling me something strange is not unexpected.”
“I know. All right. You’re aware of Burke and Hare?”
Inspector Winters’ eyebrows went high. “Of course.”
“I think there might be some strange connection,” I said.
“Sounds strange, aye, but interesting too.” He lifted the cover of the notepad and held the pen at the ready.
“Any chance you could keep a secret?”
“No, typically it’s my job tae uncover things, not hide them.”
“I know, but maybe you could keep a secret until you couldn’t? Keep something to yourself until you need to share the information. Until it’s necessary.”
“No promises. Talk tae me, Delaney.”
Since he hadn’t talked to Inspector Pierce, he still didn’t have confirmation that the warehouse existed. I wasn’t sure if Pierce would be obliged to tell him anyway, since it seemed not to have been involved in the murder. Inspector Winters had been asking me about the warehouse’s existence since we’d met. He’d first asked about it because it might have had something to do with Edwin’s sister’s murder. Over time, he’d asked because he was curious, and the legendary reputation made lots of people ask.
“It’s about Edwin’s treasures. The warehouse,” I said.
Now his eyes did light with a twinkle. “I’m listening.”
ELEVEN
Though I knew he’d been curious, I couldn’t be sure what Inspector Winters would ultimately think of the warehouse. It was a spectacle, sure, but had legend built it into something that it wasn’t, couldn’t ever be? I knew things were bound to change between Inspector Winters and me when I let him in on the secrets—and between him and my coworkers too—but all indications were that things were going in a good direction.
“So, this is it?” Inspector Winters shone a small flashlight at the red ornate door. The light from the bare bulb
