What they were saying both made sense and didn’t make sense. Words ran through my mind, but I didn’t think they were from a bookish voice. I think it was just something I’d heard in many different places, in one form or another.
Two half-truths don’t make a truth.
In fact, even three don’t.
“Why did he kill her outside the bookshop?” I asked.
“We don’t know, of course,” Sophie said. “Maybe she was just curious about the scalpels that Dr. Eban mentioned, and Dr. Glenn followed her.”
Dr. Glenn had come back to murder—to seduce first, this time around—family members from his previous circle of friends. Sadly, I could imagine something like that happening. However, it was still far-fetched.
“You need to call the police right away,” I said.
“We were just about to,” Sophie said.
“You didn’t call them because you told Mallory you’d keep the secret?” I said, my aghast beginning to show.
“Not really,” Sophie said. “We were scared. Plain and simple scared.”
“Oh,” I said. “Of course you were. Should we get you some protection?” I reached for my phone. I didn’t know what else to do, but I didn’t know who to call.
“No,” Rena said as she put her hand up. “No, Delaney. We’ll be fine, but we were scared.”
“Makes sense,” I said, though it didn’t make complete sense.
There was something wrong with the way they were acting—for one thing, they seemed so calm now. And why hadn’t they contacted the police? I could only chalk that up to their fear, and perhaps their grief. So much had happened that I couldn’t possibly understand.
Sophie stood. “If you don’t mind, we’d like tae call the police now.”
“I can stay,” I said.
“We’d rather not put you in that position,” Rena said.
I didn’t mind, but I didn’t say so. They wanted me to leave. I stood and Sophie saw me to the door. As she opened it, I looked back into their flat.
“Does he look the same?” I asked. “Dr. Glenn?”
“Aye,” Sophie said.
“Gray hair,” Rena said. She looked at Sophie. “You said he had gray hair.”
“Right. Yes, gray hair,” she said.
I nodded.
“See you later, Delaney,” Sophie said.
“Yes, later,” I said, as the door closed.
I’d originally wanted to ask if Mallory had told them anything about Dr. Eban. I’d wanted to find out what Rena was up to Friday night after she’d gone back out, or maybe hadn’t come home at all.
But other things were now more important. I didn’t believe them about Mallory and Dr. Glenn, I didn’t know why exactly. But he certainly made for a convenient place to point an accusatory finger. I decided the police should hear from me too—about the alleged relationship between Mallory and the elusive killer from ten years ago, about Mallory’s former roommate, and also about my weird feelings regarding the gray-haired man I’d seen at the pub.
I pulled out my phone and hurried back out to Elias.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Royal Mile was busy today. It was busy almost every day, with tourists from all over the world walking up the hill to the castle, and all the way down to the sea. Maybe it was the comfortable temperature and the clear blue sky, but today it seemed busier than normal as Elias steered the cab slowly and we searched for a parking spot. Inspector Winters’ office was at the bottom, by the sea, but Inspector Pierce’s satellite office was closer to the castle at the top.
“There it is,” I said as I pointed to the narrow space with a sign above it: POLICE. “The window is painted blue.”
“Aye. I guess they dinnae want people looking in at their business.”
“Let me out here. I’m close to the bookshop. Go ahead and get back to Aggie. I’ll get home later.”
“Lass.”
“I promise I won’t go talking to people, asking questions without you or someone else with me. Seriously, I just want to talk to Inspector Pierce.”
“Without your attorney?”
“Yes, but it will be okay.”
“I dinnae like any of this,” he said.
“It’s okay. I really just want to make sure the police have all the information I think they should have.”
He wasn’t happy about it, but part of our relationship’s growing pains was him letting me be the adult I was. He finally conceded and stopped the cab.
I watched him turn right at the next intersection down the hill. I dodged some pockets of pedestrians as I hurried across the sidewalk to the blue door. I noticed a narrow gap in it, and wondered if they could see out through the blue or if the view was blocked from both directions.
I pulled on the door handle, but it was locked tight. I had the urge to move closer and peer in, but I still wouldn’t have been able to see inside. I knocked, but no one answered immediately.
I stepped back and searched for a business hours sign, but didn’t see anything. I had Inspector Pierce’s number programmed into my phone, but he hadn’t answered the three times I’d tried to reach him on the way over.
I’d have to hope he called me back soon. But as I turned to head down the hill the door to the police station opened.
“Delaney?” Inspector Pierce said as he leaned out. “What’s up?”
“Hi. Yes. I called.”
“I’ve been busy. What can I do for you?”
I looked around. “Can I come in there?”
At first I thought he’d say no, but he didn’t. “Come on in.”
It was a closet of a police station with two facing desks that left a narrow vertical pathway in between them. Beyond was probably a storage closet and maybe a toilet, but the focal point was unquestionably the coffee machine perched on a chrome cart with wheels that probably had to be moved from one side to the other when someone needed to get into the supply closet or the toilet.
“Have a seat.” Inspector Pierce nodded to the one ragged chair that wasn’t behind one of the desks. “Coffee?”
“Thanks.”
I took a seat and wondered what to do
