This was going to be tough.
“I know, but … Conn told me you talked tae some of her friends, Sophie and Rena.”
“I did. I was hoping that Mallory had confided in them … perhaps about Dr. Eban.” I swallowed.
“Aye. Conn’s a good brother, though a wee bit of an ox in a china chest. He shouldn’t have done what he did in Bryon’s class, but we were suspicious. Bryon Eban and I used tae be close friends many years ago, and I truly can’t imagine him hurting my daughter.”
“I hope not.” I paused. “What happened to your friendship? Did you have a falling-out?”
“Aye. A man named Glenn fooled us all and we’ve never recovered any trust for each other, but that’s another story. I came here tae ask you about Sophie and Rena. I’ve tried tae talk tae them, but they won’t respond.”
“I’m afraid they didn’t tell me anything about Mallory and Dr. Eban.” I wasn’t going to tell him what they’d told me about Mallory and Dr. Glenn. I couldn’t do that to him. If he later learned about it, I hoped Mallory’s murder would be solved by then. I would apologize later if he ever learned I’d kept the information from him. It was just too bizarre, too big a pill to swallow.
“Are they … are they nice women? Sophie and Rena?” he began.
“I’ve only known them for a few months, but they’ve been very nice to me.”
“I see.” He sipped his coffee and then set it on the desk. “At the risk of sounding terribly snobbish, what can you tell me about their time before medical school? Mallory mentioned them a few times, talked about how they’d come from tough circumstances in Glasgow. I didn’t ask her much about them.”
“I’m afraid that’s all I really know myself, but I believe Rena had it the tougher of the two.”
“I see.” He paused, as if considering whether or not to go on. He did. “I can’t find anything about them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have access tae their records at the school. There are privacy laws, and I’m not one of those given access tae student records of any sort. I have friends, of course, but I’m loath tae ask them right now. They would wonder why I was curious. I don’t want tae appear … paranoid, or as if I’m trying tae influence the women’s paths in medical school. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” Though I sensed he was more concerned about later questioning his own judgment during this time of grief than others judging him. “Why do you want to know more about them?”
“Curiosity, I suppose. When they wouldn’t talk tae me, I wanted tae … Just curiosity.”
“I do know that Rena’s father had some old medical school books … Would you excuse me a moment?”
“Certainly,” he said to my back.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I hurried up the stairs. I practically sprinted to the warehouse, dropping the key once as I fumbled it toward the lock.
I took a breath and told myself to slow down. I unlocked the door and broke a cardinal rule by not locking it again as I went inside. I found the box of books and gathered the piece of paper at the bottom of the box that Rena had originally filled out.
The form was simple. Name, address, phone number, perceived value, desired amount. However, we also asked for a provenance when older books were involved. How far back could ownership be tracked?
Rena had filled out the form, and in the box for the provenance she scribbled, “They were my dad’s. He doesn’t know who owned them before him, but he’s been the owner for at least ten years. Here’s his mobile.” She included a number.
I hadn’t called to confirm the provenance. I was sure Hamlet hadn’t either, since I’d been the one who had worked with the women from the beginning, and I was waiting to hear what Edwin wanted to do with the books.
The rule was that we always did our best to research the provenance of all books, and in my case, the provenance of everything I researched for Edwin.
I had not done my job.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed the number listed. I was taken directly to a recording that told me the number wasn’t in service.
The unanswered phone number could be a glitch, or a misunderstanding. Maybe I was misreading a number.
I put the paper back into the box, grabbed one of the books, and left the warehouse, making sure I locked the door behind me.
I wasn’t in the same hurry as I went back over. Rosie and Hamlet sent me worried glances, and Boris Clacher knew something was wrong when he saw my face.
“Lass?” he said.
I showed him the book. “Do you think this might have come from the university?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I know that Dr. Eban has a few collections.”
“Have any books gone missing?” I asked.
“Aye, actually. Maybe. Dr. Meg Carson, Dr. Eban’s wife, came tae my office not long ago and asked if I knew what happened tae one of our collections. I believe this was a book from that collection. I didn’t know of anything gone missing, but she mentioned she might call the police.”
“How long ago?”
“About a month or so, I think.”
“I think you should go to the police with this information.”
“And tell them what? About the books?” he asked.
“Yes. Just trust me—it might help. Let me give you the inspector’s number.” I pulled up Inspector Pierce’s number on my phone and gave it to Boris. “I’ll call him too.”
Boris looked at me as a new horror pulled at his features. “Do you think those women, people my daughter thought were friends, killed Mallory? In some way because of the books?”
“No, I really don’t,” I said, though I had no sense of it at all. “They were friends, Mr. Clacher, no doubt in my mind. But since they were friends, Sophie and Rena might have more information that they’re not
