As if a murder in one of her rooms was not something that would cause rumours.
“Such a charmin’ woman,” Sergeant MacKenzie commented. “One can understand why there is no husband about. She no doubt drove him off with kindness,” he added, with no small about of sarcasm.
I heard only part of what he said as I continued around the room. I pushed back the curtain that hung in front of the bed and then inspected the shelf above in the alcove.
“I’ll be just beyond,” Sergeant MacKenzie informed me. “Standin’ guard if the old witch should return.”
He stepped out of the room, and I continued my search, then returned to that alcove and the shelf at one end above the narrow bed.
Dory had written about it in one of her early letters, a place where she put things to hide and keep them safe from the old woman. She spoke of things that had gone missing in the past—a handful of coins that she kept in a jar that was now empty. A hair comb found on the street that looked as if it might have been made of silver, that had also disappeared. And a book dropped by its owner in the marketplace that Dory could only read a few words of, ironically written by my guardian, Mikaela Forsythe.
In one of her recent letters, she had mentioned a secret hiding place in the room where she kept things of value—coins from her gentleman friends and what she earned at the pub, along with the money I sent her.
I had a sudden thought and took out the knife I carried. I pulled out the blade from the handle, then used the tip of the blade to probe the edges of each of the narrow wood planks in the wall above the shelf.
I was able to pry one open, not unlike the secret place she had kept atThe Churchyears before, and discovered her secret place.
There was a handful of coins, well hidden, that the landlady had not confiscated before the constable arrived that morning, along with a bundle of the letters I had written to her, tied with a piece of twine.
“Oh, Dory,” I whispered. “I miss you, my friend. I wish you could tell me what happened.” Not that I expected an answer, still they were things I would have told her, if she were there.
The letters had no importance to anyone except me. I took them and the other envelope and tucked them into my bag. I left the few coins that were still there, then replaced that small panel of wood.
I looked about the room once more, my gaze falling on a dried rose in a chipped vase on the small table.
Dory liked flowers. She said they were innocent things, simply sharing their beauty with whoever came their way.
I had no way of knowing if she had picked it or if it might have been given to her by one of her ‘friends,’ as she called the men who found their way into her life. Most eventually disappeared, but she had spoken about one that came round whenever he could.
Who was he? Did he know what had happened? Had he perhaps read my letters to her, then written her replies, and sent them to me in London?
“I promise I will find the person who did this.” As I turned to leave, there was a breath of air that stirred in that stagnant room.
Sergeant Mac was waiting for me as I stepped out into the hallway.
“The ol’ bat has been sniffin’ around,” he said with a nod toward the stairwell. He looked at me.
“Are ye alright, miss?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t. What had happened would never be alright, yet I knew what I had to do. I owed it to Dory.
Mikaela would understand, I thought, as we left the tenements of the Old Town. She had rescued me from the poverty, squalor, and certain death just as Dory had in her own way years before.
I couldn’t rescue my friend, but I could find the person who had killed her.
I paidlittle attention as we returned to Princes Street, then the High Street just beyond and those imposing austere stone offices that filled Albany Street. And only became aware that we were no longer near Fleshmarket as the driver stopped the coach.
“Inspector Landry said as how ye needed to meet with Sir McQuarrie after,” Sergeant MacKenzie announced as he stepped down and held open the door of the coach.
“Do ye want the driver to wait?”
I replied that it wasn’t necessary as I had no way of knowing if I would need to wait to see Sir McQuarrie, and I was determined that I would see him.
It was late in the day, very near evening. Still, in spite of the late hour, I was determined to visit the morgue where Dory’s body had been taken with the hope that I might be able to learn something, dreadful as that prospect was.
Inspector Landry had assured me that Sir McQuarrie could make arrangements for that. He seemed to have considerable influence in such matters with those he knew.
I thanked Sergeant MacKenzie, then crossed the street to the entrance of Sir McQuarrie’s offices.
