“Hey!” someone yelled in my dreams.
Glass broke and footsteps pounded on the iron railing outside my window.
I sat up straight, threw off the covers and bolted from the bed. My hotel room was dark, but moonlit shadows flew around the walls from the curtains blowing and swaying across my window. Disoriented, I trembled in fear. Chills hit me in places I didn’t know existed.
Suddenly a man jumped in through my window. More glass shattered in his wake. He pushed me back on the bed as he raced to the door. I could hear him fumble with the locks. Then the door opened and slammed shut.
“What the-”
Stunned and frightened, I leaped up, switched on the light and looked around. My eyes were blurry with sleep, but I couldn’t see anything out of place. I focused on the clock next to the lamp. It was three fifteen.
What the hell?
Without warning, more heavy footsteps rattled the fire escape outside. I screamed and an instant later, another man jumped through my window. Taller, broader, dressed in black.
No. This couldn’t be real.
“Where’d he go?” he demanded.
“Out the door!” I shouted, then lost my balance and fell back on the bed. Again. Probably from shock.
He stormed to the door, whipped it open and ran out into the hall.
I followed him to the door. He was pacing up and down the hall, swearing sharply. What was he doing here, and where in the world had he come from?
Then he stalked back into my room. It took another few seconds of creative swearing before he seemed to notice me again.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “You’re looking good.” Then he bent over to catch his breath.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I shouted. This wasn’t a dream. I was wide-awake now, but still bewildered and slightly discombobulated. And yeah, angry.
He straightened up and let out another heavy breath, then raked both hands through his thick black hair. Talk about looking good. The man was gorgeous, if you like them tall, tough and sexy, with hair long enough to tie back and eyes greener than a Sonoma hillside.
He laughed, still breathing heavily. “Haven’t climbed a fire escape in a few years. Call the police, would you?”
“Gabriel,” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He studied me frankly, from my toes up to my hair. Then he grinned, causing his eyes to sparkle and two adorable dimples to appear in his cheeks. “Saving your ass again. Not that I mind. It’s a fine ass.”
I looked down. Yes, I was still wearing my baggy plaid flannel pajamas. On the bright side, at least I was wearing something.
He, on the other hand, wore a black leather bomber jacket over a black T-shirt, boots and worn black jeans that perfectly accented his equally fine ass.
Gabriel-no last name, apparently-and I had met a month or so ago when he helped save me from a psychopathic teenager who’d been hired by Abraham’s murderer to kill me. And if that didn’t make sense, welcome to my world.
After gaining my trust, Gabriel had later stolen an extremely rare copy of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives from my apartment and given it to Guru Bob. Heck, if I’d known Guru Bob wanted the book, I would’ve given it to him myself. I didn’t need some darkly handsome thief breaking into my place to do it for me.
And here he was. It was déjà vu all over again.
“Gabriel, what’s going on?”
He’d moved over to the window and was checking the broken glass. “Call the police first. We can shoot the breeze after.”
“Oh, yeah, we’ll shoot the breeze.” Not trusting him as far as I could throw him, I kept an eye on him as I picked up the phone and made the emergency call, asking the dispatcher to alert Detective Inspector MacLeod that there had been a break-in related to the recent murders.
I hung up the phone and stared hard at Gabriel. Despite my mistrust, I knew I was perfectly safe with him. But that wasn’t the point.
“What are you really doing here?”
“I’m here on business,” he said, pushing the windows open and climbing out to the fire escape. He fiddled with the window locks, and it looked as if he were testing them for some reason. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe down the locks and the window frame.
“Wait!” I said. “There might be fingerprints.”
“Right,” he said. “Mine.” His generous mouth twisted into a frown as he wiped down the surface of the unbroken glass. “I don’t need any trouble with the Edinburgh constabulary.”
“But you didn’t do anything,” I insisted. “I’ll tell them you came in to help me.”
“I appreciate that, babe.” His smile was so sweet, his dimples so delectable that I had a hard time remembering he was basically a thief. “Do you have another room you can stay in tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking of Robin. I dropped into the desk chair and rubbed my face. I should’ve been more freaked out, but the truth was, I was just too tired to manage it. I knew without a doubt that it was the killer who had run through my room before Gabriel showed up.
“What happened?” I asked. “How did you come after this guy?”
“Just lucky,” he said with a shrug. “I was crossing the parking lot and happened to look up and see him outside your room. I threw some rocks at him, then finally started up the fire escape after him. That’s when he broke your window and escaped through here.”
“Wow, lucky is right.”
“Damn straight.”
“Did you recognize him? Could you describe him for the police?”
“I couldn’t see him that well,” he explained as he crossed the room to wipe the door handle clean. “I basically saw a figure by your window and went after him.”
I sat back in the chair. “Well, that sucks.”
Gabriel moved to the desk and wiped it down. “I’d say he was probably my height, about six feet, maybe six-one. But that’s about it. Sorry.”
My shoulders slumped. I wouldn’t be able to describe the guy either, except to say that he was definitely male. So much for my powers of observation.
“I’m just glad you were here,” I murmured, shaking my head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you were walking by and saw that guy.” What would’ve happened if Gabriel hadn’t been here? Would I be dead by now? I couldn’t dwell on that. It was meant to be that Gabriel had been in that parking lot at precisely the right moment.
I thought about that for a moment, then asked, “So let me get this straight: You were out in the parking lot?”
“Yeah,” he said, his lips curved in a smile. “Some luck, huh? I was just leaving for the airport.”
“At three in the morning.”
He grinned. “A red-eye.”
I studied him. “And how did you know the guy was outside my room?”
He smiled wickedly. “I get paid to know these things.”
My heart thudded in my chest. He really was gorgeous.
And I really was a sap. “Oh, damn it.” I jumped up and ran to the bed. “My book.”
“What book?” Gabriel asked as he folded up the handkerchief and stuck it back in his pocket.
“The Robert Burns. Crap, crap, crap.” It wasn’t anywhere on the bed where I’d fallen asleep reading it. I pulled the bedspread completely off the bed and shook it. Nothing. I knelt down and searched the floor. Nothing.
“Let me help you,” he said, and knelt down next to me. “What does it look like?”
“It’s red. It’s… it’s…” He was so close, I could smell him. Clean, citrusy. Sexy. Whew.
Disgusted with myself, I concentrated on looking for the book, running my hands along the floor, around the nightstand. The bed was perched on a solid platform, so nothing could’ve slid underneath.
The book was gone.
But how? The intruder was in my room for maybe five seconds, and that was at a dead run.
“It’s not here,” I said finally, accepting the inevitable. “I’m so screwed.”
“Sorry, babe.”
I stood up and looked him in the eyes. “How could he have stolen it? I saw him race right through the room. He never stopped.”
“Beats me, babe.”
I stared at him as a police siren shrieked in the still night.
“The cops should be here soon,” he said. “Maybe they can help you find it. I’ve got to get going.”
“Probably a good idea,” I said, blocking his way as I held out my hand. “But first, give me the book.”
He smiled in sympathy. “Ah, now, see? You’re all distraught.”
“Give me the book, Gabriel.”
“Honey, I would love nothing better.” He pointed toward the open window, where the sound of the police siren grew more shrill. “But that’s my cue to get moving.”
“Gabriel, I know you have it,” I said, slowly moving closer to him. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you’ve got it.”
“Calm down, babe,” he said, holding up both hands.
“Give it to me and I won’t sic the cops on you.”
He checked his wristwatch. “Look at the time. I should be going.”
“Did you sneak in here earlier and take it?” I asked. “Then maybe a while later, as you were about to drive away, you happened to see the other guy up here?”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. “Yeah, and I saved your life.”
“I appreciate that,” I said through clenched teeth. “I feel truly blessed that you came along when you did, but I don’t think it was a coincidence, now, was it?”
I was so angry, I pushed him.
He chuckled as he grabbed my wrists. “Babe, you’re getting kind of violent, and I’m a peaceful man.”
“See, I’m usually totally peaceful, too,” I said, managing to push him again despite his hold on me. His chest was like a steel wall. “But you’re making me so mad, I can’t seem to help myself.”
The blaring sirens came closer.
I held out my hand. “I want it now, damn it.”
Gabriel sighed, unzipped his bomber jacket, pulled out the book and tossed it on the bed.
My eyes were wide as I stared at the book, then back at him. “Oh, my God, you really had it.”
I punched him in the stomach.
“Ouch,” he said.
“Oh, give me a break. You barely felt that.”
“I felt it.” Without any warning, he grabbed my elbows, tugged me close and kissed me. I was so shocked I let him. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. And I let him. He was really good at it. His lips were warm and soft, and when he finally lifted his head and stepped back, I almost sank to the floor.
But I didn’t.
“Gotta go,” he said, zipping up his jacket.
“Thanks for the book,” I said, gazing right back at him.
“I’ll see you soon, Brooklyn.”
“In your dreams.”
He laughed. “You got that right, babe.” He winked at me, walked over to the window and was gone.
The police jammed into my room minutes later, but after all was said and done, they were no closer to finding the killer than they were before. All I could tell them about the man who ran through my room was that he was male. It could’ve been anyone.
With a broken window and fingerprint dust on every surface of my room, I packed a few things and went to spend the rest of the night in Robin’s room.
I woke up four hours later feeling prickly again. I couldn’t sleep another minute. Someone besides Gabriel had gotten into my room last night, and it was just a guess, but I was pretty sure their motive had been to either kill me or steal another weapon. Either way, that someone wanted me dead or rotting in jail, which was unsettlingly close to the same thing.
But who? And why?
I glanced at the other side of the king-size bed. Robin was still snoring softly. I got up and went to wash my face, brush my teeth and dress for the day. Staring at the mirror, I told myself it was time to shape up, regroup, make a new list of suspects and try to save my own damn life. Starting now.
At Robin’s desk, I pulled out a hotel notepad and once again wrote down any and all possible suspects. The list wasn’t very long. My best suspect was dead. I was running out of possibilities and I had to face facts. Rather than the two dead men, I was the one who seemed to be the common denominator. So everyone I knew went on the list, including Royce, Martin, even Winnie Paine, the elderly IAAB president, along with Helen, Serena and Minka.
I decided not to add Gabriel, since he’d had the perfect opportunity to kill me last night and hadn’t done so-not that I’d ever suspected he was capable of it. I also didn’t list Derek or my parents or Robin. But I did write down the names of my friends Peter and Benny and four other booksellers I was friendly with. I knew it hadn’t been a woman running through my room during the night, but I was leaving no stone unturned. Maybe one of them had a male accomplice.
There was a knock on the door. Robin muttered into her pillow.
I shook her leg and said, “Get up, girlfriend. We have company.”
She grunted as I answered the door. It was MacLeod and Derek, and I was glad I’d changed out of my luscious plaid jammies.
“Come on in,” I said, leading the way inside, where I flung the curtains open and pulled the desk chair out. “Have a seat. Robin, company’s here.”
Robin burbled some profanity, then rolled over, opened her eyes and shrieked like a girl. She jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Derek bit back a grin, but MacLeod’s eyes goggled as though he’d seen a vision. Robin did not sleep in plaid jammies, to say the least.
“What’s up?” I asked Derek, as MacLeod seemed incapable of speech.
“You had an interesting night,” Derek said, leaning one hip against the desk.
“That’s one way to put it,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“So much excitement, yet you didn’t call.”
Uh-oh.
I could tell he was offended. Crap, I hated that. But what to say? I couldn’t mention Gabriel.
“I called the police,” I said, which was totally true. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought I’d lost the book and I was searching around for it, and by the time I found it, the police were knocking on the door. Then Robin came down to help me pack…”
I was an idiot.
He probably thought the same thing as he listened to me blather.
Angus’s phone rang and he excused himself to talk in the hall.
“I’m sorry, Derek,” I said, almost ready to cry. And I really was sorry. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called him, but to say I’d had a crazy night was putting it mildly.
“I should’ve called,” I said, shaking my head. “I was completely distracted and stupid.”
He stood and walked over, pulled me into his arms and held me. “I don’t quite have your trust, do I, love?”
I buried my face in his divinely warm wool jacket. God, he smelled like heaven. “I’m getting there.”
He rubbed my back, then gave me a squeeze. “We’ll work on it.”
I pulled back and searched his face for some deeper meaning to his words. How would we work on it? Did we have anything to work on? We lived on opposite sides of the planet. Would I ever see him again after this week?
Robin walked back into the room still wearing her short, flimsy nightgown, but at least she’d added a short, flimsy robe. She looked disheveled and sexy, not exactly appropriate for a meeting with the police.
She noticed my expression of dismay and said, “Hey, you guys are in my room.”
“Yes, and we should go,” Derek said immediately, and turned to me. “We just came by to check your schedule. I don’t want you going anywhere alone. If one of us can’t be with you, Angus will call one of his men to accompany you wherever you need to go. Right, Angus? Angus?”
MacLeod kept trying to swallow, but he’d lost all ability to speak. It probably wasn’t the first time a man was flummoxed by the sight of Robin in a silk nightie.
Ignoring him, I laid out my day’s agenda for Derek. I had two seminars I wanted to attend, one on textile conservation and storage treatments, and another one, given by Helen, on Japanese paper-folding techniques. The first one complied with my continuing-education efforts and the second sounded like fun. I hoped I’d come away with a few new ideas for my own classes, especially the master bookbinding class I was scheduled to teach next month at the Bay Area Book Arts center, affectionately known as BABA.
Then after lunch, I’d be giving my rescheduled bookbinding class.
Robin pulled me aside and warned me to listen to Derek and stay safe. “If I have to explain to your mother that you were tossed down an elevator shaft, it’ll just piss me off.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Now I’ll have that image in my head all day.”
“Good, maybe you’ll be more careful,” she said, and gave me a fierce hug.
Derek and I dragged poor Angus out of the room, leaving Robin to dress for the day trip she and my parents were taking to St. Andrews.
The two men walked me downstairs to the textile conservation seminar on the conference level. At the door, I turned and faced my protectors.
“Thanks,” I said, grateful for their presence.
“One of my men will be waiting out here when you’re finished,” Angus said, having regained his voice.
“Take care, love,” Derek said, and in front of a few hundred of my closest, personal book fair friends, Derek planted a kiss on me that made Gabriel’s really excellent efforts seem half-assed. My vision was blurred as I stood at the door and watched Derek and Angus walk away.
The textile conservation seminar was dull but necessary. Helen’s paper-folding class was fun, and she gave me some great ideas for my own classes. I asked her what she was doing for lunch, but she was already booked. Then afterward, she was running off to an invitation-only seminar up at the castle. I expressed my extreme jealousy and she laughed. We set a time to meet later on in the pub.
After she left, I grabbed a take-out sandwich from the lobby kiosk and ate it on the way to my rescheduled bookbinding workshop. Constable McKenzie caught up with me at the escalator and followed me downstairs.
As I stepped off the escalator, I saw Royce McVee coming out of another conference room. He waved me over and I gave him a light hug.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Fairly well, thanks,” he said with a tight smile. “I’ve managed to drum up some new business, despite my rather dour reputation.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said. He asked where I was going, then walked down the wide corridor with me. The vigilant Constable McKenzie trailed several feet behind us.
“I had a chance to talk to Serena,” I said after a moment.
“Ah, yes, the blushing bride,” he said snidely. “Your thoughts?”
“I can’t figure her out,” I admitted. “My friend Helen-do you know her? Helen Chin? She’s a paper and fabric artist. Anyway, Helen thinks Serena’s story is heartbreakingly real and believes every word she says.”
“Oh, Serena’s story is certainly compelling,” Royce said, his tone dripping sarcasm.
I chuckled. “Yes, isn’t it? I can’t believe it, but Helen is so wrapped up in it and actually wants to be friends with Serena, which is just ridiculous, seeing as how she herself was engaged to Kyle and didn’t-”
“I beg your pardon?”
Oops. Had I really just blown Helen’s secret wide-open? What an idiot I was.
“Go on, Brooklyn,” Royce said calmly. “Tell me about Helen and Kyle.”
Later I might chalk it up to the stress of the week, but right now I had some emergency triage to perform. So I laughed. “Oh, Royce, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I hope you won’t repeat it. It was nothing. Just a bit of a misunderstanding. You know how Kyle was with the ladies. Always flirting, making promises he had no intention of keeping. Helen knew he was pulling her leg.”
I continued to chuckle, but Royce was no longer amused. Instead, he chewed his lip as his eyes narrowed. He looked as if he were contemplating murder. Not mine, I hoped.
“Look, Royce,” I said quickly, “I just meant that Helen and Serena’s becoming friends is odd because they both claimed to be Kyle’s… well, not really, but, you know… hmm.”
Oh, God, I needed an exit strategy.
“Oh, look, here’s my workshop,” I said brightly. “Guess I’ll see you later.”
“Indeed you will,” he murmured, and walked off.
The quietly observant Constable McKenzie watched Royce walk all the way back down the hall until he reached the escalator and disappeared. Then the good constable opened the door to the conference room and was kind enough to check around for dead bodies under the worktable, finally declaring the room dead-body-free. He said he’d wait outside and left me to arrange my supplies and tools for the class.
I made a conscious decision not to think about Royce McVee until the workshop was over.
The class filled up quickly and we went to work. I had to laugh at one point when an older woman named Millie glued her decorative cloth book cover to the worktable.
“Oopsie-daisy,” she said.
“No problem, Millie,” I said, prying open my supply case and pulling out an extra piece of Japanese cloth so klutzy Millie could start over.
Even with all the pieces precut and the instructions easy enough for a six-year-old to follow, there were always one or two people who just didn’t get it.
But most of them did.
“Ooh, it’s so pretty,” one woman said, smiling. She’d finished the project and was tying the small album together with the purple grosgrain ribbon I’d provided.
“Beautiful job, Maureen,” I said as I walked up and down along the tables, observing everyone’s work.
The long day and the strange appearances of a possible killer and Gabriel during the night started to catch up with me, and I had to keep myself from yawning more than once.
Finally, the two hours were up and the class began to file out with their treasures as a young woman waded through the wave of departing students. She approached and handed me a small envelope.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“You’re Ms. Wainwright?” she asked as she straightened the royal blue vest she wore as an official book fair volunteer. She was breathing heavily.
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“I just ran from the castle? Anyway, that’s for you?” She pointed to the small envelope she’d just handed me.
I absently noted her thinning, frizzy red hair and tendency to end sentences with question marks as I opened the envelope and read the note inside.
I know who killed Kyle. Meet me at St. Margaret’s Chapel at 16:30. Be careful. Tell no one.
I shook the note at the volunteer. “Who gave this to you?”
She cowered at the demand in my voice. “Some lady up at the castle?”
“What did she look like?”
The volunteer screwed up her face as though I were an evil headmaster with a whip.
I took a deep breath and said calmly, “Can you describe her for me? It’s really important.”
“I don’t know?” she whined. “Oriental? Dark hair? Short? Nice jacket?”
Helen.
“Thanks very much.” I didn’t want to make her cry by pointing out that the politically correct term was Asian, not Oriental. She hurried off and I was left alone in the small conference room with Helen’s note and no clue what to do next.
I stared at the note.
I know who killed Kyle.
Had Helen called the police? Why would she take a chance and send a note about the killer to me?
Meet me at St. Margaret’s Chapel at 16:30.
I assumed that meant four thirty. Helen had been born and raised in California, which was one more reason we’d bonded during that summer in Austin, Texas, when we decided that earthquakes were easier to live with than hurricanes. But she’d spent the last few years living with Martin in London, so maybe she’d acclimated to the British method of using the twenty-four-hour clock. Maybe.
More than likely, though, the note was a hoax and not from Helen at all. Which meant Helen was in trouble.
Unless Helen had killed Kyle. No, I would never believe that. But if she’d sent the note, then someone close to her was the killer. Martin? Serena? A dozen other people? Oh, hell.
I checked my watch. My workshop had officially ended at three thirty so it was now three forty. It would take me twenty minutes to walk up to the castle and another ten or fifteen minutes to reach St. Margaret’s Chapel on the castle grounds. I figured I’d be perfectly safe in the middle of the afternoon at Edinburgh Castle, surrounded by hundreds of tourists, not to mention the Scottish Guard.
Besides, I wouldn’t be going alone. I wasn’t a complete idiot, despite my recent gaffe with Royce.
Royce.
Had he gone after Helen? But why? Why would he care if Helen and Kyle had been engaged? I could understand if he went after Serena. She stood to inherit Kyle’s portion of the business, but Helen?
And what did Helen have to do with the Robert Burns book? Had Royce killed Kyle to keep him from presenting the book to the world, and now realized he would have to kill Helen to keep it quiet? But wait, he already knew I had the book.
I was driving myself crazy and wasting time wondering about Royce. I needed to find Helen. But first, I needed to find the police.
I stuck the note in my jacket pocket and rushed through the room cleaning up, stuffing tools and leftover supplies into my bag. When I walked out of the conference room, the corridor was empty. I wondered briefly where Constable McKenzie was, but figured I’d run into him on my way upstairs.
As I hopped on the escalator, I pulled out my cell phone to call Derek, hoping to convince him to go with me to the castle. He would think I was nuts, I realized, after I’d left a detailed message on his voice mail. Once in the lobby, I found a house phone and dialed his suite. No answer there, either, so I left another message.
I gazed around the lobby, hoping to see Angus or one of his constables. The police had been omnipresent from the beginning of the book fair, but now I didn’t see any sign of them. Figured-you could never find a cop when you needed one. I asked the hotel operator to connect me with the police and had to leave another message, this one for Angus.
As I hung up the phone, I heard someone call my name and turned.
It was Serena standing not more than four feet away from me. Had she been listening to my slightly hysterical message for Angus?
“Hi, Serena.”
“Hi, I thought that was you.”
“It’s me. Listen, I’ve got to get-”
She licked her lips nervously. “I was wondering if you’d seen Helen.”
“Not lately, why?”
She wrung her hands. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’m a bit worried.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I saw her awhile ago. She was arguing with Royce and he was yelling.”
“Arguing about what?”
“I don’t know, but then that other man pulled her away and started yelling at Royce.”
“What other man?”
“I think it’s her boyfriend or something?”
“Do you mean Martin? Her husband? Tall? Blond? Kind of skinny?”
“That’s him. He’s her husband?” She looked embarrassed. “Ah.” She shook her head, gave me a look of befuddlement, then waved off her words with both hands. “In that case, I’m sure everything’s fine then. Well, he was mad and all, but as long as they’re married, it’s probably not-”
“Serena, what exactly did Martin do with Helen? And where’s Royce?”
She went back to wringing her hands. The woman really was a basket case. “I overheard Helen tell her husband that she needed to go to the castle, so they left together. But they didn’t look happy. In fact, he was practically dragging her out of here and she kept trying to pull away.” Her chirpy voice rose higher and higher. “I called to her and she looked at me in complete and utter terror. I didn’t know what to think. But if he’s her husband, well, then maybe it’s all right. Sometimes I worry too much. Maybe they were simply in a hurry to get somewhere. But then Royce ran after them. That was odd. But perhaps I misread the whole event. I tend to overdramatize things.”
Shizzle. I had no time to think about what a complete moron Serena was. Martin must’ve written that note-or forced Helen to do so. And where was Royce? I needed to find a cop and get to St. Margaret’s Chapel now.
“Yoo-hoo!”
I whipped around and saw my mother waving at me from the hotel entry. She was carrying several shopping bags, and Dad followed behind with several of his own. Robin trailed them both, wearing a new plaid beret and a tired grin.
I turned back. “Look, Serena, thanks for telling me about Helen. I’ve got to go.”
Her face was a mask of tragedy. “I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“Right, me too. See you later.” I ran across the lobby to meet my parents.
“Mom, hi,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got to-”
“We went crazy!” Mom said as she dropped all the bags on the carpet, then opened one up and whipped out a bright red Royal Stewart plaid skirt. “Matching kilts for your father and me! Kilt, jacket, sporran, shoes, socks, sash, the whole enchilada.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, momentarily stunned by all that plaid. “Dad, you sure you want to be seen wearing a skirt around Dharma?”
“I think the whole thing’s a gas,” he said, always up for a challenge.
“We’ll have everyone wearing kilts within six months,” Mom predicted.
“Right on.” Dad grinned. “Let’s go put this stuff away and hit the pub.”
“I can’t right now,” I said. “I need to go to St. Margaret’s Chapel up at the castle.”
“You’re going to church?” Dad asked, baffled.
“No, it’s a… a meeting, up at the castle, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave right now.”
“Let’s all go,” Mom said merrily.
I started to protest. “That’s probably not-”
“Groovy,” Dad said, ignoring me. “We’ll leave everything with the bellman.”
I sent Robin a pleading look. “Will you come, too?”
“More the merrier,” she said, then added more quietly, “What’s going on?”
“Looks like we’re going to church.”
As we walked quickly up Castle Hill toward the ancient fortress, I thought it might be just as well that my family was along for the ride. There was safety in numbers, after all.
I pulled Robin close. “Do you have Angus’s phone number?”
“Yeah, should I call him?”
“I left him a message and another two for Derek, but I’d feel better if you tried Angus again.”
“What’s going on, Brooklyn?”
I pulled the note from my pocket. “Got this from Helen.”
She read it and frowned. “Weird. Did she call the police?”
“That’s what I wondered. It might be a trap, or Helen might be in trouble.” I turned and saw Mom and Dad straggling half a block behind us. “Maybe we can drop them off somewhere and you and I can head over to the chapel.”
“Good idea. Your mom might like to see the doggy cemetery.”
“Perfect.”
She pulled out her cell and got hold of Angus immediately. Hmm, guess she had his personal number.
After explaining the note to Angus, Robin held the phone away from her ear and looked at me. We could both hear him yelling. After a few seconds, she brought the phone back to her ear. “We appreciate your concern, Angus. So I guess we’ll see you soon. Okay. Bye-bye.”
He was still yelling as she disconnected the call. She looked at me and shrugged. “Guess we’ll have backup.”
“Good.” I was glad to know not only that Angus would be there, but also that I was not the only one being lectured to lately.
Since it was teatime, there weren’t many tourists wandering around. The air had turned bitterly cold, and the Scottish cadets walking the perimeter had to be shivering in their sporrans. Gray clouds huddled just overhead, and the drone of the wind across the stones sounded mournful.
We crossed the wide esplanade, passed the elegant bronze statues of Robert the Bruce and William Wallace, and walked briskly through the gatehouse. After paying the entry fees, we hurried through the Portcullis Gate and turned to face the treacherously steep and curving Lang Stairs that would lead to the Upper Ward and St. Margaret’s.
“These may be too much for you to climb,” I said.
“It’s good exercise,” Mom said.
“Yeah, let’s go,” said Dad.
We didn’t speak as our boots scuffed against the rough stone stairs. To take my mind off what I might find at St. Margaret’s, I counted steps and finally hit seventy. I knew now why they were called the Lang Stairs, as lang was the old Scots word for long. I’d made it to the top but hardly in triumph. I had to grip my stomach as I bent over, huffing and puffing and wheezing like an asthmatic smoker.
I was somewhat relieved to see Robin and my parents do the same, although Mom and Dad recovered quickly. What was up with that? Maybe there was something to all those purging and cleansing tonics they swilled.
Once we’d caught our breaths, I led Mom and Dad past St. Margaret’s Chapel on the left, to the low wall that looked out over the lower levels of the castle and much of the New Town. I pointed out the lovingly tended pet cemetery on a small plot of lush green land that covered a lower terrace twenty feet below where we stood. Small headstones lined the curved wall, with colorful flowers planted alongside them.
“This is where the faithful companions of the castle’s commanders are given their final resting places,” Robin said softly, sounding just like the tour guide she was.
“How wonderful,” Mom said, leaning both elbows on the thick parapet. “I want to read every miniature tombstone.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ve got a meeting in that little chapel right over there.” I pointed to the small, ancient stone building just across the wide walkway.
“Oh, it’s as small as a dollhouse,” Mom said.
“Have fun,” said Dad.
I started to walk away, then turned to face my parents. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back here in ten minutes.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
“You don’t want them coming in the chapel?” Robin said.
“No way.” When I realized Robin had followed me across to the chapel, I turned and glared at her. “What are you doing? You need to stay with them.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, her boots scuffing against the cobbled walkway. “They’ll be fine, while you, on the other hand, scare the shit out of me.”
St. Margaret’s Chapel, the most ancient of all the buildings on the castle grounds, was covered in rough stone that masked the pristine jewel within. I remembered from my last visit that the chapel nave was minuscule, barely ten feet across and maybe fifteen feet in length, with a deep, wide archway that separated the nave from the tiny vaulted altar area.
“Aren’t you going inside?” Robin asked.
“In a minute,” I said, scanning the castle grounds. “Where the hell are the police?”
From where we stood at the railing outside the door leading into the chapel, the view was spectacular. We could see the entire city and surrounding hills from this point at the top of the castle grounds. White clouds scudded across a sky so blue it might’ve been a Boucher painting.
“Wow, it’s beautiful up here,” she remarked.
A scream pierced the air.
I raced up the ramp, yanked the chapel door open and stepped inside.