I stood as Inspector Landry arrived.
“I trust you passed the night well enough,” he said in greeting.
I assured him that I had. “Mrs. Cheney has been very kind.”
I then explained that I had met with Sir McQuarrie and would be staying in Edinburgh.
“I had a telephone call from him a short while ago. I’m aware of yer request. I understand yer determination to find the ones responsible, Miss Montgomery. That is most unusual.”
“Unusual in that most people have no interest in a murdered prostitute?” I suggested, then quickly apologized. “You have been most considerate. I did not mean to be ungrateful.”
“I understand that this has been difficult for ye. Sir McQuarrie spoke of yer wishes in the matter.” He laid a file on the desktop with letters on the tab.
“The body is to be brought to the morgue today. The police surgeon will make his examination to determine the cause of death. I would caution ye that it can be hard to see someone in such circumstances...particularly a friend.”
“I appreciate the information.” I then explained that I wanted to see Dory’s room in Fleshmarket Close.
He glanced at the note I handed him. “I can arrange for one of the constables to accompany ye, although I dinna know wot ye might be able to learn.”
I did not need someone to accompany me, yet it did seem that I had no choice in the matter.
I waited until an older man in constable’s uniform arrived and Inspector Landry introduced me to him.
“Mr. MacKenzie. He knows that part of the Old Town well.”
He was a tall, burly fellow with a ready smile.
“If ye please, Miss Montgomery. I will have a coach brought round, with no objection from himself,” he indicated Inspector Landry.
“No objection, and ye are to provide whatever assistance Miss Montgomery might need.”
Mr. MacKenzie grinned. “Aye, sir.” He then went to arrange for a coach.
“He was with the Army for twenty years, which accounts for the salute and his manner otherwise. Now ten years on with the police. He’s a good man.”
Sergeant MacKenzie quickly returned. “Yer carriage awaits, Miss Montgomery,” he announced. “And ye must call me Mac. Only me mother ever called me by my full given name, bless her soul. And that was usually for some misdeed on my part.
“She was of the old faith, ye see. Went to church twice every day and said her Hail Marys for me misguided ways,” he explained, as we left the police station.
“Not that I was a bad sort. Just a wee bit stubborn and got meself into a bit of a stramash every once in the while.
“Ah, here we are, miss. Yer driver for today is Constable O’Neal. A capable fellow with a team as ye can see, but not nearly as fine-looking in the uniform as meself. Now, up ye go.” He gave me a hand up into the coach, then followed.
3
Fleshmarket Close was like so many other places I had known in the past in Edinburgh, including the brothel known asThe Church. Places where others lived in the shadows of taverns and pubs, and old tenements.
These places hardened a person, particularly a child, where trust didn’t exist, and the only thing that was left was survival.
That was how I thought of it when I left Edinburgh years earlier for a different life. A chance for an education beyond my ability to count out an evening’s earnings for the ladies atThe Church. For a roof over my head that wasn’t crawling with rats, or where thirty children were crowded into a room, a nun watching over with a cane if anyone should cry out.
A chance for a different life than the one I had known. Dory had persuaded me to take that chance.
“A place like this...? It will kill ye,”she told me.“Ye have a chance now for something better, the ability to take care of yerself with an education, and not be livin’ hand-to-mouth until the next man comes along, hopin’ he doesna beat ye. Or worse. Ye have to go. It’s the only way out of here.”
There was one other way for far too many…a police van and an unmarked grave.
“Are ye all right, miss?” Sergeant MacKenzie asked.
