“I’m sorry to put you in that position. I didn’t even think about it.”
“Please don’t be concerned about that. I wanted to let you know, though, before you went around talking to other museums about the scalpels.” He looked at me, and I told him I hadn’t. He seemed relieved. “Anyway, when you told me about them, a memory of something I’d read once did ping in the back of my mind, but I knew it was from some old documents. I had to dig a little to find the report from almost eleven years ago, mind you, that mentioned that scalpels were on a stolen items list from the university.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“This is a copy of the report, complete with pictures,” he said.
The two pictures at the top of the page held familiar items: scalpels and two display cases.
The report was brief but descriptive:
“Missing from the University of Edinburgh medical school: a set of scalpels (circa 1828 or thereabouts) alleged to have been used by Dr. Robert Knox, the doctor to whom murderers William Burke and William Hare sold their victims. The scalpels were owned by the university. Dr. Bryon Eban had been given charge of the artifacts and he had displayed them in a case outside his classroom. There are two locks on the case. The glass was broken. The scalpels were the only items taken. They fold with a circular hinge and have blue handles. They look like a barber’s razor. Only one of the two cases on display was stolen.”
“The police need this report,” I said.
“Sure, if you think so.”
“I do.” I looked at the report again. “This was right before Dr. Glenn murdered everyone.”
“Excuse me?” Joshua said. “Dr. Glenn?”
“You know who I’m talking about?”
“Of course, but how did he become a part of this?”
I didn’t tell him the truth. I just said that the police had brought up Glenn’s name, mostly because of his connection to Dr. Eban. Joshua was very doubtful of the possibility that the killer had resurfaced.
“That can’t be,” he said. “He hasn’t come back … Wait, I thought he’d died. No, that was just a rumor. Or something. No, that just doesn’t sound right. I think it’s a stretch to think Dr. Glenn has come back to town with murder on his mind.”
“Where is he then? Where has he been?”
Joshua struggled through some thoughts. His eyebrows moved and his lips pursed shut tight. One eye squinted, and then the other. “I guess I wouldn’t know, but … the thing the police need to know is what might have been his relationship with the victim. Why would Mallory have known him well enough to, for whatever reason, be in that close with him? That’s what they need to look at, and at the relationship between the Clachers and the Glenns, maybe back then too. For sure back then.”
“I agree, and I think they’re looking at all of the relationships.” I hoped I was better hiding what I knew about Mallory and Dr. Glenn than I had been with the scalpels.
“But still, Glenn coming back to kill? How terrible. This needs more research. Maybe check old newspaper articles. At a library?”
I knew someone who could help. Artair would microfiche an afternoon away with me anytime I wanted. But I also knew someone at a newspaper, and though I didn’t expect us to ever be best friends, I had come to see her side of things a little more.
“Maybe,” I said. “Joshua, what about some missing books in your records? Have you received any notice that some books from the medical school were taken? Published in the early 1900s, hand-drawn, gruesome sketches?”
“Recently or a while ago?”
“Recently, I think. Look, there, I did it again. Now you need to report me for two things.”
“Never,” Joshua said. “I think you’re giving me the rebellion I was never allowed to have. I don’t know about any books, though. I’ll have to check.”
“Your parents won’t be pleased with me.”
“They’ll never have to know.”
As we moved toward the front door, Joshua bid Rosie and a sleepy Hector goodbye. I followed behind and enjoyed the warmish spring breeze that came inside as he walked out, but he didn’t get far.
“Oh, oops,” he said as his foot hit something.
An open shoebox was on the ground, impossible for whoever walked out of the shop first to have missed it.
“What in the world?” I said.
Though Grassmarket was a busy place, there were not-so-busy moments too, particularly along our small stretch of the sidewalk. This was, fortunately, one of those moments. We didn’t have to get out of anyone’s way as we crouched and peered inside the box.
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“Is that what I think it is?” he said,
“It looks like a jawbone to me. Don’t touch it.” I pulled out my phone and silently debated who to call first.
“I’m not planning on touching it. Do you think it’s human?”
“I would bet so, but we’d need an expert to tell us.”
I found Inspector Pierce’s number first, but immediately after I talked to him, I called Inspector Winters again. I knew they’d both be here quickly.
“Someone will be here soon,” I said.
“Looks like someone already has,” Joshua said as he looked up and around.
From our crouching vantage point and with the cars parked on the street in front of us, at that instant it seemed like we were the only two people left in the world.
Well, us and what remained of the person in the box.
TWENTY-SIX
They hadn’t met in person, but had talked over the phone. Apparently, Inspector Pierce had only recently joined the precinct. I was surprised, but I introduced them and they went to work, Inspector Winters taking on the role of assisting Inspector Pierce in whatever ways he instructed.
I hadn’t put much forethought into what they might do with the jawbone, but it turned out to be a really big deal. Not as many people showed
