Chapter Two

It certainly wasn't a hardship being assigned to Scotland. And among the beautiful cities to be found in the world, Edinburgh might well find a place at the top of any list.

Carly didn't know it like the proverbial back of her hand, but she had been there often enough growing up since her father's parents had immigrated to the States from the country. But she did know and love the Royal Mile, Edinburgh Castle, Holyrood Park and so much more. Of course, nothing in the world really ever stood still. Things in existence when she'd been younger might not be there anymore, and other things might be in place. But in such a historic place, there were bound to be locations like the castle, Holyrood Palace, St. Giles' and more that had stood not just from decade to decade, but for hundreds—and hundreds—of years.

Walter Freeley had been discovered on a road accessible only on foot—but not far from the main road.

When they arrived after parking on an embankment and being led the rest of the way by MacDuff, the crime scene tape had been removed. And the site where Freeley had been discovered appeared to be nothing but peaceful and shaded by a beautiful elm; the remnants of the ancient volcano upon which the city of Edinburgh had grown all around them, majestic cliffs, soaring rocks and forests and manicured paths.

"This is not right at all," Daniel murmured. "Holyrood Park is just there, and it's been a refuge and a wonder for the people of the city—and tourists—since its inception. So beautiful, so many natural wonders. People hike, they love going up to Arthur's Seat and seeing the old volcanic vents and the city below and..."

"We understand completely," Carly assured him. "Central Park is a mecca for New Yorkers and visitors, but sometimes...it's misused."

"And there's nothing like a body dump in the Everglades," Luke murmured.

"He was right there, and of course, there's little to be seen now," MacDuff said. "We arrived on the scene after being called by a terrified hiker who met us on the road—she'll never come this way again. Anyway, she wanted to head up that hiking path and thought something that might trip someone was covered up by the tree branch. But when she went to move it out of the way... Well, she saw his face. Screamed, called us immediately... We arrived, medical examiner arrived...forensics...by that time, of course, the media had gathered."

"But," Jordan Dowell told them, "the circumstances of death weren't known immediately—apparently they leaked after the second body was found." He shrugged. "The city powers that be wanted it all back to a pristine condition as soon as possible, and of course..."

"He wasn't killed here—he was dumped here. So it was easy enough for your forensic people to finish up as soon as possible. And they found...nothing?" Carly asked.

Luke was seriously studying the scene, shaking his head. "Whoever is doing this is good. They might not be in forensics, but they've studied forensics. They were wearing gloves, of course." Luke looked from MacDuff to Dowell. "But they didn't find a hair, a fiber..."

"Nothing," MacDuff said. "And they tried, and whatever you may be thinking—"

"I'm think your forensic people are good," Luke said, "which is why I believe whoever is doing this has some grounding in medical knowledge and forensic science."

"So, a forensic medical examiner?" Dowell asked dryly.

Carly smiled grimly. "The person isn't necessarily a professional. And I seriously believe there must be at least two people doing this. They're doing the killing elsewhere. And the display portion of what they're doing didn't come about until the press decided to label them Burke and Hare?"

"Exactly," Dowell told them. "So, again, I'm afraid the crime scenes can't—"

"Right. They don't exactly give us clues, but then again, they do," Luke said. "We know someone drove to a point, and then they had to carry Walter Freeley's body here."

"Onward, then?" Daniel asked.

"Onward. We may not get exact clues from the locations, but—"

"Sure, we understand," Dowell said. He grimaced at MacDuff and turned to Luke and Carly. "Told you. He's an old grouch!"

"Eh!" MacDuff said, frowning fiercely.

"But damned good at what he does!" Dowell said, grinning.

MacDuff just shook his head. "He's an uppity lad, but he's pretty good, too," he said. "And working on this case... Well, we do need to lighten the load now and then."

"Agreed," Carly said, smiling at Jordan Dowell, who grimaced. She liked the younger inspector. They all worked hard on some of the most horrendous things human beings could do to one another, but he also managed to keep a balance between what they did and saw, and the need to keep their own lives on keel so that they could help others.

She was equally glad Michael MacDuff—as grouchy as he might be according to Jordan Dowell—seemed to have absolutely no difficulty being the local lead on the team he and Dowell had been assigned to with two Americans and Daniel from the National Crime Agency.

While they didn't need to be best friends for life, it was important in this investigation that they respect and listen to one another and act as team players at all times.

MacDuff saw good things in his partner as well. He was teacher and student, Carly thought, because he respected Jordan Dowell in return. Each generation brought new knowledge, especially where tech was concerned, and MacDuff was truly a professional, a man who would respect the opinions, intelligence and knowledge of others.

They stood a moment in silence, studying the location and all that was around. And it was strange, but she understood Daniel's feelings of anger regarding their location.

The site was beautiful. And it was peaceful. Truly, the edge of the kind of refuge that took people away from the general cares of their day. The air was cool and just slightly moist. The breeze was gentle.

"Well," MacDuff said. "We need to move onward. It was after the discovery of Brian Dresden that the media gained the information the bodies were being gutted, and the headlines started to read Burke and Hare, at it again."

"But his body wasn't on display—like the two women who were found next," Carly murmured.

"No, it was after the headline that the display part began. They may not have meant to be recreating anything, but...they are enjoying their moniker," Dowell said.

"We move on," MacDuff said.

As they drove to the eastern outskirts of Old Town, MacDuff told them, "The crime scene photographs have been sent to you. When we return to the house, there should be plenty of time for you to study them and place them in your minds along with the places we'll have been. Of course, you have already seen the last location."

"Of course. Thank you," Luke told him.

"This next location is not quite like the first one," Dowell murmured.

When they arrived, Carly thought it might not have been as majestically beautiful and natural as the area fronting Holyrood Park, but it was still oddly charming. Two old estates existed side by side with well-maintained foliage and old brick walls separating them—along with a small alleyway, the kind the Scots referred to as "vennels."

The vennel was only accessible by foot, and MacDuff parked by the road before leading them halfway down the alley beneath the shade of a giant oak.

"Again," MacDuff told them, "the body was covered in branches and discovered by the homeowner to our left at about eight in the morning—the owners are friends."

"Wealthy friends," Dowell said dryly, indicating the majesty of the old medieval homes behind the brick walls. "They often have morning tea together and Mr. Connoly—house to the left—was headed over to see his friend, Mr. Douglas."

"And good thing it was Mr. Connoly and not Mrs. Connoly. She was a complete wreck when we arrived at the scene, though we spoke with her in the house and she never saw the body," MacDuff told them. "I doubt if she's been in the vennel since."

"I guess it's not easy accepting the fact a mutilated body was found just outside your home," Carly murmured. "May we speak with the Connoly couple?" she asked MacDuff.

He arched a brow. "We interviewed them. They didn't see a thing. These body dumps are occurring in the middle of the night. And if Ewan Connoly hadn't gone to share morning tea with Ian Douglas, he might have been in a wretched state of decomposition by the time he was discovered."

"Still, if it's possible—" Luke began.

"Come, then—there's a call box back at the front of the vennel," MacDuff said.

A woman's soft voice came through the little metal call box near the gate to the house. MacDuff identified himself and she quickly said, "But, but... Oh, we've spoken with y'sir! We... Oh, shall I never forget what... I cannot live here anymore!" she moaned.

"Mrs. Connoly—" MacDuff began again.

A male voice then came over the box. "Sir, I'm opening the gate. Please, come in."

MacDuff glanced at them and nodded. They heard a click and the gate opened. The five of them headed up the long stone path that led to the medieval house. Carly wasn't sure a property could be described as a "Tudor" house in Edinburgh, but the home they approached reminded her of Harvington Hall, a massive mansion built circa the same time period. She had visited it once in England with her parents.

A stone path led through an alley of manicured trees to a stone building that offered a grand entrance and was surrounded by three other smaller buildings.

The double doors opened as they approached the house. A man of about forty-five stood there, dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans. His hair was dark, cut short, and he had a defiant way of standing, legs slightly apart, feet firmly on the ground, hands on his hips.

"MacDuff! What can we do for you now?" he asked.

Either the man was mocking them with an American accent, Carly thought, or more simply he was an American.

"We believe we have yet another victim of the killer who left the body in your vennel, sir," MacDuff said. "We've added to our team, and we'd like to hear about the morning you found Mr. Dresden again."

"As my wife said—"

"Ye've been over it, aye, sir, we know. But the situation is extremely grave."

"Fine, come in. We'll have tea," Connoly said.

"Sir, we do not mean to put you out," Luke said.

Connoly studied Carly, Luke and Daniel for a minute.

"You're American," he said.

"Not me!" Daniel protested.

"You're an American," Carly said.

"Yes, and no," Connoly told them. "My folks were working in Chicago when I was born, lived there for about fifteen years and returned here." He shrugged. "Hard to turn it down when you're left a place like this in your parents' will. It would be... Well, they'd be turning over in their graves if we hadn't made it back home."

"It's an amazing place," Luke said.

"So, please do come in," Connoly said. "And tea is no trouble at all—neither is coffee. Your choice of either. The wife makes the best scones on the planet, so please, it will calm her a bit to go about being a good hostess."

They entered the grand mansion. Mrs. Connoly was standing in the entry, her hands clenching and unclenching nervously.

She was an attractive woman with light brown hair that curled gently around her face. She was slender and tiny, a mere five-one or -two against what Carly figured to be her husband's six-foot frame.

"Lily, darling—" he began.

"I'm sorry, ever so sorry, but..." the woman began.

"She's still so upset," her husband explained.

"I didn't see, but I knew... I knew!" Lily said. "And it's ever so horrid! Why? I've been a wreck ever since. And when my husband is not here, I keep the dogs in the yard and I let no one in! Why, why did they choose our place to leave the poor lad?" she demanded.

"Mrs. Connoly," Carly said quietly, "we believe it was simply a place where they might leave the man and not be seen."

"We have four massive Rottweilers—in their kennel at the moment—and the gate and even the walls are set with alarms, as is the front door of the house," Ewan Connoly said. "Ian Douglas has the same kind of security, I believe. 'Tis a pity the wretches didn't think to make use of our properties—they'd have had sirens blazing no matter the time."

"Do you think I'm safe?" Mrs. Connoly asked. "Ne'er mind! Fer now. Tea... I will let the lass know. Oh, tea or coffee? Please, sit. I will be right back and I'll bring the tea and coffee."

She disappeared before they could stop her. Ewan Connoly shrugged and lifted a hand, indicating they should follow him into the next room, a massive parlor or perhaps once upon a time a ballroom. It now offered a game table in one section, a connection to a dining room table that could seat at least twelve people, and a section with a massive television screen, stereo equipment, and a grouping of period chairs and sofas with a large old oak coffee table between them all.

"Please. Have a seat," Ewan offered.

He waited politely for them to arrange themselves. Carly, Luke and Daniel sat on a sofa facing the coffee table and screen. MacDuff and Dowell were on two side chairs that allowed Ewan Connoly to take a chair opposite the two men with the short end of the table before him.

"I do realize how serious this is," Connoly told them. "I just don't know what more I can say. I mean, I started a usual walk to my neighbors' house and ran into a body!"

"Did you hear anything at all the night before—or perhaps in the very early morning hours?" Luke asked him. "Are your dogs out at night? Did you hear them putting up a fuss about anything?"

Connoly frowned as he thought. Then he looked at Luke and twisted his head at a thoughtful angle.

"Come to think of it, yes. I almost got up to go and give a piece of my mind to the pups, but then they stopped barking."

"You didn't investigate?" Carly asked.

He smiled. "I've explained my property. No one who doesn't belong gets in here."

"Do you and your wife have children?" Carly asked.

"Indeed, a handsome son."

"Does he live here?" Carly asked.

"Aye!" Lily Connoly said, coming back into the room. "When the lad is home from university, aye, indeed. But my husband insisted he go to Harvard in America and..." She shook her head, letting out a sigh. "The lad is twenty, a good boy, I swear it. But alone in that country... I mean, not to offend yer beautiful country. It's not here. It's far, far away!"

"We understand perfectly," Daniel told her. "Me mum was a wreck just because I went as far away as London," he assured her.

"Who else lives here?" Luke asked.

"Flora, and ye'll meet her...now!" Lily said. "Now, most obviously, I believe, the urn has coffee and the pot offers tea. And the scones... I do make the best in the world. Simple plain and a few with blueberries and a few with strawberries. Please."

A young woman with long sandy hair, dressed in a black uniform and bearing a heavy silver tray, arrived from the kitchen region. The men stood again immediately since the tray appeared to be heavy, but the young woman quickly assured them, "Ah, gents! I carry the like all the time but thank you!"

She set the tray down and looked at Lily.

"Shall I pour, ma'am?"

"No, no, lass, we can manage, thank you, Flora," Lily said. "Oh, my pardon. This young lady is Flora MacDonald, aye just like the same Scottish heroine, Flora MacDonald, who helped save Charles Edward Stuart, our Bonnie Prince Charlie, from troops after the Battle of Culloden in April of 1746! And these people are—"

Carly stood quickly to offer her hand to Flora, grinning. "I'm Carly MacDonald, perhaps a distant cousin!" she told the girl.

"Another MacDonald, eh?" Flora said, grinning. "I do trace back to the MacDonald clan of Sleat, but I'd be happier if I were heiress to the McDonald clan of the Happy Meal!" she said lightly. "Perhaps we are long-lost cousins."

Carly laughed. "I'll have to get on an ancestry site and find out," she told Flora. "Flora, this is my American partner, Special Agent Luke Kendrick, and these are our members of Police Scotland, Michael MacDuff and Jordan Dowell, and the handsome young fellow there is Detective Daniel Murray with the National Crime Agency."

"Flora, a pleasure," Daniel said, smiling.

Flora was pretty—but then again, Carly thought, so was Daniel. Well, handsome, to be more linguistically correct. But she could have sworn she saw a few sparks fly as they met and shook hands, smiling at one another.

"Thank you, Flora," Lily Connoly said again. "I will pour, lass."

Flora nodded and turned, about to return to the kitchen.

"Flora, do you live here?" Luke asked her.

"Oh, no," Flora said. "I'm a student at Edinburgh University. I work four days a week and take classes on the other three."

"Busy girl!" Luke noted.

"But we do keep a room for the dear lass!" Ewan said. "That way, she can head in and study when she wishes and also get a good night's sleep."

"Wow, a property this big!" Carly said. "Does anyone else help maintain it?"

"We have the dogs, Flora stays now and then, and when Grayson—our lad—comes home from school, he sometimes brings a tribe!" Lily said.

"But we like our privacy. A cleaning crew comes every Monday. Lily and I are delighted to have the property, and we don't mind a wee bit of work ourselves, eh, Lily?" Ewan Connoly said, smiling at his wife.

"Not one wee bit!" Lily said. She seemed to have relaxed some since they'd come and since Flora had brought out the tea and coffee. "Now. Please. You must indulge. I shall pour and I shall start with you, dear," she told Carly. "Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please. I need to stay awake and alert!" Carly told her.

"Cream, sugar? Ah, nay, yer a cop. Well, an agent, same as a cop! Black, eh?"

"I do hate to ruin a good stereotype, but I'd love a drop of cream," Carly told her.

"As you wish!"

Lily saw to it that all her guests had something to drink, and she was insistent that they try the scones as well.

The scones were delicious—sweet but not too sweet.

And as they ate and sipped their drinks, Carly and Luke continued to ask questions.

Had they noticed anyone they didn't know looking at their property, studying the vennel, their habits, any such other occurrence?

No.

Did Ewan remember the time the dogs began barking?

Perhaps about four in the morning, give or take a few minutes.

And finally, they finished refreshments and questions.

Their host and hostess were thanked politely, and they all rose to leave at last. Luke produced one of the cards Campbell had ordered printed for them when they'd started on their last case revolving around the H. H. Holmes Society, asking them to call if they thought of anything, anything at all.

"We have Detective Inspector MacDuff's card as well," Ewan told them.

"And you're welcome to call any of us if you think of anything that may be helpful," Luke assured him.

And after that, they left.

"We'd like to speak with the Douglas family as well," Luke said, once they were in the alleyway again. "There must be a way into the vennel for them, too."

MacDuff nodded. "They, too, have a wee box to call from the vennel—and a gate that leads into the estate."

"These are really beautiful homes," Carly murmured. "Off the beaten path, and yet not far at all away from the excitement of the Royal Mile, shops, restaurants..."

"Filled with tourists for the picking," Luke put in.

"Right. Come on, this way," Dowell told them.

They headed down the vennel again and found the call box and keyed in the code that allowed entry to the Douglas residence.

But there was no answer.

"We can call them and arrange for another interview," MacDuff said.

"I wonder if they're in there and just not answering," Daniel said.

"Well, if they are, there's nothing we can do," Jordan told them. He looked at Daniel and grinned. "Besides, their maid is about fifty, way too old for you and plump as a ripe cherry!"

"Ha, ha!" Daniel responded.

"Children!" MacDuff chastised, but he spoke lightly and said, "There's nothing we can do right now. We'll need to reach them to arrange for an interview. We have no right and no cause to scale their wall. If we could, I do believe we'd trigger an alarm and half the men and women on duty for Police Scotland would hurry on out to arrest us."

"We do want to see them," Luke murmured. "But you're right. Nothing else to do here now."

In the Escalade again, Carly said, "It ties in. I'm not in medicine, but if the corpses had no livers, it would be impossible to tell time of death through the temperature method. But it seems the amount of time needed to remove organs coincides. Say these people are found just being social and friendly, that their new friends buy them doubles when they think they're drinking singles, or whatever their method. During the week, most nightspots close around midnight, if I'm correct," she said, and waited for either MacDuff or Jordan Dowell to let her know if she was or wasn't.

"They can set their own hours but you're correct. It's usually eleven during the week, and then midnight or later on the weekends. It's a university city," Jordan Dowell reminded her. "People love to crawl in the older darker pubs in Old Town, or cross the bridge and enjoy the trendier places that are in New Town."

"And none of our victims disappeared on a weekend. Always a weekday—and they were found on a weekday," MacDuff added.

"All right. So, our victims meet their killer—or killers—sometime late at night, but before 1:00 a.m., most certainly. Then...they are somehow encouraged to imbibe copious amounts of alcohol. They are quickly dispatched. The simple removal of organs from a dead body by someone who had learned or been told what to do might well take a few hours. And then, at that time of morning, they've checked everything out and they know where to dump the bodies where they won't be found until they're long gone," Carly finished.

"Any exact time of death is hard to have 100 percent right no matter what, and certainly harder when there are no organs in the body," Luke agreed.

"And again," Jordan said, twisting to look at those in the back seat of the car, "I remain perplexed about victim number two. We spoke to his boss in the States and to his coworkers. The man simply didn't drink. His boss told me he'd walk around social events with a lime and soda so that people wouldn't want to buy him drinks. He told his boss once that he didn't like the taste of alcohol period, and he'd seen it do too many bad things to too many good people. So, how did they get him drunk?"

"What did the ME say?" Carly asked. "Was it forced down him—"

"Well, he was asphyxiated, so there were wounds around his mouth and nose. It would be difficult to know because of that if his mouth was pinched open. And we all know the rate of inebriation one acquires has to do with the alcohol content of the beverage," MacDuff said. "They might have acquired something super-charged." He shrugged. "We are famous for our whiskeys, and they do come with differing degrees of alcoholic content. Most are sold at about 40 percent strength. Some at 60 percent. But I imagine it's possible to go over that, and if you don't drink at all..."

"One drink might leave you in a position to do whatever you were directed to do," Luke said thoughtfully.

Daniel groaned softly. "So, we're looking for a whiskey distiller with a medical degree or an obsession with videos depicting autopsies and/or transplants. Charming and friendly, great at nightspots. But as we've discussed before, there are only hours until organs stop being viable. Where and how are they getting the organs to buyers?"

"Or," Jordan said dryly, "are we dealing with a group who aren't selling the organs, but simply making meals out of them?"

Carly groaned and hit him playfully on the shoulder. "This is bad enough."

"But he could be right," Luke said.

"Right. We can't forget that although he never quite confessed to it, prosecutors believed Andrei Chikatilo, the Butcher of Rostov, consumed parts of his victims. You had the relatively unknown German serial killer, Joachim Kroll, the Duisburg Man-Eater, who also dined on his kills. Then closer to home," Luke said, looking at Carly, "we have the very well-known Jeffrey Dahmer—and there was also Ottis Toole, the Jacksonville Cannibal."

"Of course, not to be outdone!" Jordan Dowell added. "We have our own infamous Scottish cannibals, Alexander ‘Sawney' Bean and his forty-five-member clan known for getting away with murder for twenty-five years with, legend estimates, a thousand victims in that time, only stopped when King James sent out a search party. Kind of, to use a great Americanism, icky, icky, yucky. The clan were his children and their children who were their children's children, clan incest—"

"Okay, okay!" Carly protested. "Yes, cannibalism exists and we all know it, but..."

"But we also all believe this has to do with the illegal organ trade," MacDuff said.

"All right," Carly said, leaning forward. "Where are they going to harvest the organs?"

"Just about anywhere private," MacDuff said. "Our privacy laws are similar to yours. No illegal search and seizures. Unless they worried about being suspected or seen...they could go just about anywhere."

"Right," Carly agreed. "But then...oh, my God!"

"What?" Daniel asked.

"I read somewhere that there are about nine-hundred little islands off Scotland, some of them public, some of them privately owned," Carly said.

"That's true. There are little islands that look like they're no more than big rocks dropped into the ocean, big enough for one house, accessible only by boat or...maybe by a parachute," Jordan said. "Others are a little bigger, as you know, part of the Hebrides, the Shetlands, the Orkneys... You can buy an island here. We sell to foreigners, too."

"That must be it!" Carly said.

"So, we should parachute to nine hundred islands?" MacDuff asked.

Carly grinned. "No, and we don't know if I'm right. But say the killers have the organs. They might be able to take them out quickly, but surgery to replace a living human being's organ is going to take longer, and you'd need recovery time. Where could you go where you are on private property that's only accessible by a boat—or a parachute jump—and where you were fairly certain of privacy and not being interrupted by anyone for all the time that was needed?" she asked.

"It's quite possible. We'll get our techs working on islands and sales, though of course, say that what you're saying is right. This person—these persons—might have owned their island for years," Daniel reminded them.

"We're looking for properties that aren't large at all, that may have just one home, like you were saying," Luke said. "Well, being that small does bring the number down, right?"

MacDuff laughed. "I've been here me entire life! I can honestly say that while I've been to the Shetlands, Hebrides and the Orkneys, no one has yet invited me to a private island. Then again—"

"I'm sure our great computer people can narrow numbers down for us," Luke said. "Off the subject a bit. Lily said Flora MacDonald didn't live there, but she did have a room and stayed sometimes. I could be wrong, but it seemed to me Lily wanted Flora back in the kitchen quickly."

"Lily wants to forget any of it ever happened," MacDuff said.

"Maybe," Luke mused.

"Seriously?" MacDuff said, frowning as he drove. "The woman is a shattering pile of tears."

"She is. But I would have liked to have talked to Flora a bit more, too," Carly said. "Flora is a student. We should be able to find her through the university and perhaps speak to her away from the Connoly property."

"Or, she may just call us," Daniel said.

MacDuff's frown deepened. He was driving and he didn't turn to look at Daniel. The others twisted to do so.

He smiled. "When we shook hands, I slipped her my card," he told them. He shrugged. "She might not have been there that night, maybe there's nowhere to go, but..."

"You slipped her your card because you think she's cute," Luke suggested.

"Well, there's that, too," Daniel said. "But convenient, right?"

They all smiled again, even MacDuff.

And it was good, because they were almost at their next destination.

"And this," MacDuff announced, "this...the murder of the young and lovely actress and dancer, Lila Strom..." He broke off as he shook his head.

He began to speak again, his voice dry.

"This is where legend takes over, where the media stepped in," he said. "Lila was the first to be displayed, left as if she slept in peace. Her disposal site allowed the killers their moment of amusement and irony. This was where the case became Burke and Hare—revisited."