Chapter Four

The restaurant might be new, but it was already gaining a nice reputation and following. They just made it in before those who came in after had to wait for a table.

Carly checked out the restaurant. It had a large semicircular bar toward the rear and offered about forty tables. The bar seated twenty or so, she thought, and there were two bartenders busily serving those who were seated before them and those who stood next to those who were seated. They did have help. She saw that someone came in with a bucket of ice and a case of liquor and then refilled the well with fresh bottles as the other two scurried about.

A fellow wearing a name tag that identified him as Gregory arrived at their table soon after they were seated and offered drinks after introducing himself. He was a young man, sandy-haired, with a quick smile and pleasant attitude. It was a perfect combination for being part of a restaurant staff, Carly thought. He suggested the salmon—not a surprise—or their roasted chicken, which was served with the finest neeps and tatties to be had. "Oh, that's turnips and potatoes," he added, having ascertained through their greetings that Carly and Luke were American.

Carly opted not to tell him they did know. So she smiled and thanked him.

"Fish and chips are wonderful here, too," Gregory told them. "My favorite, in truth! The breading is so light, the haddock always fresh...excellent."

"You sold me on it!" Carly assured him.

"I'll have the salmon, and we can have a taste of both," Luke said.

"Scotch pie, please," Jordan said. "With whatever!"

"Your food will be out soon, and we'll be dropping off our complimentary shortbread as well! It is also the very best," Gregory promised them. He hurried away to see to their order.

Jordan sipped his water and spoke behind his glass. "One of our inspectors spoke with the young bartender there, the man with the reddish hair, William MacRay. And he believed he recognized a picture of our German tourist. But he also said she was here early, at about this time, and she ate at the bar. But he didn't see her speaking with anyone. He was horrified, of course, to hear she had been murdered. He didn't want to believe that anyone who could do such a thing might have met her here."

"Maybe I'll have a chat with him," Carly murmured. "Except..."

Just as she spoke, a woman rose to leave her chair and was followed by the man who had been standing at her side.

"Never mind!"

Carly leaped up and made her way quickly to the bar, managing to do so with a finesse that kept her from "stealing" the seat from anyone who might have been heading toward it at the same time.

There was a second bartender, an attractive young woman, but she seemed to be working to the left of where Carly had grabbed a seat.

The seats weren't just stools, they were tall chairs with wooden backs and soft cushions. It made it a very comfortable place to drink, something surely suggested by an investor in the new restaurant.

She was there about a minute before the man Jordan had identified as William MacRay came before her and smiled. "Evenin', lass. What can I get for you?" he asked her politely.

"A nonalcoholic beer, anything," she said pleasantly.

"Ye've come to a pub in Scotland for a nonalcoholic beer?" he inquired with a friendly grin. "Now I can tell you—"

"No, thank you, sir. I really need just a moment of your time. I'm with a team investigating the crimes that have recently taken place—"

Panic seemed to seize him. He frowned and shook his head. "Ever so sorry, lass, I'm swamped at the moment. Did you really want a drink?"

"Not really. When are you not—"

He set his hands on the bar, sliding them toward her, as he leaned in to speak. He smiled and nodded toward her table, saying politely, "We're a wee bit slammed here tonight, lass, so I will just get you that beer and see it's added to your tab. Here, as in America, lass, your server might have done that for you!"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to see the bar," she said, realizing he had slid a piece of paper toward her.

She took care to slide it unobtrusively into her own hand before rising with a smile as he handed her the beer, and she turned toward her table.

"That was not a long conversation," Jordan said dryly.

"He seemed to be afraid of something or someone here," Carly said. "I think he gave me a phone number, or..."

She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet so she could pretend to anyone watching that she had taken the slip of paper from it rather than having received it from anyone here.

She slid it carefully on the table and told them, "He gave me his phone number. That's all that it is. Obviously, he doesn't want to talk to me in front of someone here."

"Great. There are between staff, people eating, people waiting and people milling around the bar...at least a couple of hundred people in here," Jordan pointed out.

"And while only a few people might have heard you at the bar, someone could be watching from anywhere," Luke added. "Let's just keep our eyes open. And what did you get there?" Luke asked Carly, amused with a brow lifted at the can and glass she was carrying.

"Um, I don't know... Tennent's Zero!" she said looking at the can.

"One of our best nonalcoholic brews," Jordan said gravely.

Carly took a sip. "And not bad at all. A choice drink for staring at people and trying to be a mind reader."

She broke off and frowned. There was someone in the crowd who didn't seem to belong. She was wearing a dress that looked like it had come from the Georgian era, and she was watching their table with a frown, studying them curiously, oblivious to the people around her.

As they were of her.

Dead. She's a spirit. And one who just might know something.

Carly looked at Luke. He had seen the woman, too. He gave her a slight nod.

"Ah, well, I need to go to the ladies' room. One never knows what one might discover there."

"Ah, dear lass, you should see the men's room upon occasion," Jordan said dryly.

"I'll leave that to the two of you," Carly said, rising, nodding toward the spirit. She didn't know how the woman might have recognized her as someone who might be able to hear her, but apparently she had.

When Carly walked toward the restroom, the woman followed. It was always intriguing to watch a spirit walk through a crowd. While an incredibly small percentage of the world's population could actually communicate with the dead, there was another percentage who seemed to be able to feel them. One woman standing with friends at the bar seemed to shiver as the spirit walked by her, frowning slightly as she tried to ascertain what had touched her, if anything.

Then again, it was a restaurant and pub.

All manner of "spirits" could be found there.

Carly moved on ahead. Maybe the restroom hadn't been such a great choice. There was a line for the stalls, and several young women were at the sinks and mirrors, laughing and chatting with one another. But even as Carly started to turn to leave, thinking she'd need to slip out of the pub for a minute, one of the young women reminded the others, "We go nowhere alone! Linda, tone down on the whiskey! We are a group. We stay together so we don't wind up dead!"

"Right, right, right!" another woman said.

Lowering her head and smiling, Carly turned to leave, almost walking through the spirit as she did so. She nodded to her, indicating the fullness of the restroom. The place was loud, of course. Rock music was playing, but the music was low in comparison to the conversations going around the large room.

She pulled her phone out and indicated she was heading to the door, trying to make a call that she needed to be able to hear.

Once again, the spirit nodded and turned to join her.

Outside, there were still people walking about. Night was coming on in full, but Edinburgh's lights were up and bright. There wasn't as much of a crowd as there had been, but people still wandered up and down the street, some probably returning home, some out for a meal or errands, or just for the fun of being out. She reminded herself the capital city was a popular destination.

Even with killers on the loose. Then again, there was always something going on in the world, and one thing about life was that people needed to live it.

Just live it carefully. But the conversation she'd overheard in the bathroom had been a good one. A person had to go on living.

Just very carefully.

Carly put her phone to her ear as if she were listening to and speaking with someone on the other end of a call.

"Thank you," she said quickly to the spirit. "My name is Carly MacDonald. I'm with an American law enforcement team, but we work internationally. I believe you have something you wish to convey to us. You know something about what's happening here. Thank you. We're grateful for anything you can tell us!"

The woman studied her a moment and smiled at last. "Aye, lass. I didn't know...until I saw you look back at me, and then I realized you saw me. It's been years since I have spoken with the living! I'm Kaitlin Bell, and when I heard about the first murder, I was horrified. Not sure at all, of course, if there might be anything at all that I might do, but..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I was not a victim but I lived in Edinburgh at the time of the Burke and Hare killings. Daft Jamie... I'm terribly sorry, that's what we called James Wilson, a poor boy who was slow, and he was just eighteen when he was killed. The sweet lad wandered the streets here most days but so many of us cared for him...and it came out at the trial that they didn't even suffocate the poor lad, he had his back broken after his granny had been killed. And even Burke admitted he was haunted by that killing! And that Dr. Knox—Jamie had deformed feet and limped, and he was recognized and Knox knew, surely, he knew, and he removed the lad's head and feet and... I am sorry, I go on and on about the past and it has come and gone. And now there is a new horror happening today, a new way to make murder a business!"

"I'm so sorry for the losses you knew," Carly said gently. "And again, I am grateful for anything you can tell me."

"Not much, I fear, but that is why I returned here. I saw the lass, the lovely young actress or dancer... She might have been both. She came in alone—she sat at the bar. She joked with the two working at the bar here and stayed a bit. Had a wee meal, but right at the bar."

"We know she was here," Carly said.

"But so was the bloody rat who did the lass in, or someone in contact with that person!"

The spirit of Kaitlin Bell appeared extremely agitated.

"You see, I heard someone telling her she must be careful when she left, to walk the main streets, but she should stop in at another new place, called Kevin's on the other side of the cemetery, before going in for the night. But there's no way to reach Kevin's on the main streets without going back to the Royal Mile and along the other side of the kirkyard. I was intrigued by her, a lovely lass, a German girl with lovely English, and I meant to follow her immediately, but the news came on the telly above the bar and I paused, listening...and when I went to find her, I could not."

Carly frowned. "If she left here and didn't take the main streets—"

"She was a strong lass and I doubt she would have taken a much longer path to reach her goal when she knew she could cut through the backstreets. And that's when she was taken, I'm quite certain of it!"

"When she was found and her autopsy was done, the ME determined she had a very high blood alcohol level in her system. Was she..."

"Nay, she wasn't drunk!"

"Then somewhere, between here and her death, she either willingly—or unwillingly—consumed a great deal more alcohol."

"She did not appear to be drunk," Kaitlin said. She hesitated. "I do not know, but I believe that she was sent out to be taken. The lass was in wonderful good health and she was alone here. She was so pleased, she'd been selected for a special performance here of dancers from around the world. She was chosen, I'm telling you, please believe me!"

"Thank you, yes, of course I believe you! I will tell my colleagues—"

"You'll tell those who don't believe?" the spirit asked skeptically. "They'll think you quite mad, you know, taking advice from a woman who died in 1838."

Carly smiled. "We've been doing this for some time. Two of my colleagues are like me—"

"Two!" Kaitlin interrupted, stunned.

Carly's smile deepened. "Yes. I come from a special team of people in the United States who are those with this ability. And another of our colleagues here, a Scotsman, is equally able. I can speak freely with them. I believe we might take that walk through the backstreets to Kevin's—"

"You must not! It is too dangerous!"

"We're armed," Carly assured her. "We're among the few with the right to carry our arms in the United Kingdom."

"Still, one must take the greatest care—"

"Tonight, there are three of us. These killers attack those who are alone," Carly reminded her. "But we will take grave care. And again, I will tell the truth to my friends who can see and speak with you."

"I must meet them! One can go decade upon decade without speaking with the living, and now you tell me that there are three of you here?" Kaitlin asked.

"Five, if a few of my coagents return from France," Carly said. "And yes, I promise, I will see to it you meet them. The one gentleman with me tonight is one of them—"

"Ah, and that's why he seemed to watch me, too."

"Exactly," Carly told her. "Kaitlin—may I call you Kaitlin?"

"Indeed, please."

"Keep watch here when you can. And we will start investigating everything you said and try to find out who here might have been communicating with the killers," Carly promised.

"Thank you!" Kaitlin whispered.

"No. Thank you!" Carly told her.

Kaitlin turned and simply drifted through the door.

Carly had to open it.

She did so and returned to their table. Of course, the food was there. Her fish and chips remained untouched.

Jordan and Luke had eaten half their meals.

"We tried to politely wait for you," Jordan told her, "but..."

"No, no, no, that's fine!" Carly assured them. "I'm sorry. I talked to a few people outside, just warning them to be careful. I was trying to watch a few of those leaving the bar area."

Luke, naturally, knew she was lying.

"The food is delicious," he said.

"I think yours might be a wee bit cold," Jordan warned her.

"That's fine, I'm quite accustomed to cold food," she told him, and she leaned low with her fork in her hand, speaking softly when she added, "I heard talk from a few people about another newer place called Kevin's. They were saying they should walk back to the Mile and go from there, that it might be dangerous to take the streets back here, around the kirkyard. I think we might want to pay a visit in that direction."

"And you need to call the lad at the bar," Jordan reminded her.

"I don't want to put him in a bad position while he's working in case he's being watched," Carly said. "But..."

"But you could write him a come-hither text, and he'll have your number," Luke reminded her.

Carly smiled and pulled out her phone again.

I would simply love to see you again!she texted.

"Done."

"All right. Let's finish and check out Kevin's. Unless you think there's something else we can do here," Luke said.

"No, it sounds like a decent plan," Carly said.

She glanced at the bar. But if the young man had something to tell her, she couldn't endanger him by doing anything more.

They finished their food. Even cold, Carly's fish and chips were excellent.

They paid their check and left. Once outside, Carly noted there were now just a few people walking on the backstreet, a young couple and a trio of college-aged men passed them, politely nodding, and that was it.

"Lead the way," Luke told Jordan.

They passed by ancient walls, old homes, businesses, all wearing the look of the Old Town, charming with the richness of history and the lights that always illuminated the city by night, but far dimmer here than on the Royal Mile.

"You know," Jordan murmured as they moved along, "there isn't actually a street named Royal Mile on or near the Royal Mile. It just refers to the approximate distance between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace."

"Well, I guess it is a royal mile, then," Carly murmured.

"We do have a wee bit of the odd history, too," Jordan murmured. "Just odd—nothing quite so bizarre and horrid as Burke and Hare and their...well, their copiers now. But," he added with a grimace, pointing to the churchyard they passed, "in 2003, the very distinctive tomb of one George Mackenzie was broken into by a pair of teens. They slipped through a ventilation slit, made it down to the lower vault, reached the coffins and..."

"And?" Carly asked.

Jordan grimaced. "Well, the lads were caught because they were playing kickball with a skull!"

"Well, at least they only kicked someone already dead!" Carly told him.

"Hey!" Luke said suddenly.

He walked away from them to a spot where a patch of grass grew richly between two old stone buildings.

"Luke?"

"What is this?" he murmured, pulling a glove from his pocket and picking up something he found there. He lifted it for her and Jordan to see.

"Glass?" Jordan murmured.

"A broken glass. Someone brought a drink out here," he said. "You have another evidence bag, either of you?"

"A broken glass?" Jordan murmured.

"Well, I'm thinking it may mean someone had alcohol out here, and they managed to get it into our dancer before she ever reached Kevin's," Luke said.

"And you think we'll find DNA or prints," Jordan said.

"Not just that. I think we can find out if someone has an especially potent whiskey or other alcohol that they're using. How else do you get a nondrinker blitzed?" Luke asked.

"Good call," Jordan murmured. He frowned as he looked toward the churchyard.

"The church is open all night. Therefore," Jordan said, "the kirkyard is open all night. And it's huge, with clan plots, gated and fenced or not. Time takes its toll. The art, of course, is phenomenal. It's said it's the most haunted burial ground of any kind in the world. There are all manner of tombs, single graves, vaults, pathways. Do you think that maybe they dragged her into the kirkyard? And remember, the city is built upon an extinct volcano. You've been to Arthur's Seat at Holyrood Park, I imagine...and this area...so many little nooks in the ups and down. Of course, the wall surrounds many areas and there is a fence, but..."

"Maybe," Carly murmured.

"Otherwise," Jordan asked, "how could the killers be sure they were not seen or heard? It's night, businesses are closed, but still...people who work or have small children are usually in, but..."

"Possibly, they made use of the kirkyard. Possibly not," Carly began.

It was night, yes. And someone might have heard something, but...

"They might be sweeping their victims up in some kind of a vehicle, too," she finished.

"Anything is possible. And some idiot might have just dropped a glass on the way to wherever they were going," Luke said. "But let's get it tested."

"Let's do it. You two go on and see what you can learn at Kevin's," Jordan told them. He pointed. "You can't get lost—it's right there. I'm going to take this in. We have a night crew who can get right on it."

He reached for the evidence bag that now contained the broken shards of glass.

"Don't forget! It's a hilly place!" Jordan reminded them.

"That's okay! We're both pretty decent at walking!" Carly said.

Luke handed the bag to him. They started off walking together, but Jordan took a turn when they needed to keep going straight.

When Jordan had left them, Luke looked at her curiously. "Well?"

She shrugged. "You have the gist of it. The woman I met is Kaitlin Bell, she was here during the Burke and Hare murders. And she likes the telly, so she knows what is going on. She saw Lila Strom at the bar in the restaurant. She believed that someone there was setting Lila up to be met or detained by someone outside of the bar."

"And they told her to try Kevin's, I take it," Luke said.

"Exactly. Of course, whoever it was warned her to return to the Royal Mile and not go through too many side streets, but Kaitlin took a look at Lila and knew she was a strong and determined young woman and not afraid of the dark. And at that time, the two people who had been murdered were men, though..."

"We always think things can happen to others but not to us," Luke said. "So, you think she came this way?"

"I do."

"Then maybe someone met up with her with that glass, and it was filled with a super-potent whiskey," Luke said.

"Let's see if Lila Strom ever made it to Kevin's," Carly said.

"And I am willing to bet that she did not," Luke replied.

They walked on. Carly glanced back at the kirkyard.

"It is supposed to be the most haunted graveyard in the country. Plague victims, prisoners, religious war... Bloody Mackenzie, he of the broken-in tomb, apparently ordered all manner of executions and starved prisoners to death as well," she murmured as she realized Luke was watching her. "They even called his era the killing time." She shrugged. "The cute little dog, Bobby, seems to guard the place in the front, but they say visitors have come out scratched, bitten...and terrified."

"Right. They scare themselves to death and then trip and wound themselves. I haven't met a spirit who ran around punching people yet," Luke said. "But if you think—"

"No. I think we're going to need to find the spirits who aren't haunting a graveyard," Carly said. "Like Kaitlin Bell."

He smiled at her. "I agree. Still, maybe, when this is all over—"

"There's so much I want to do before we go home—"

"Or move on to the next case," Luke pointed out.

"Hopefully, when we finish this case—and we will catch these monsters—we'll have a bit of time? There are so many museums here we haven't gotten back to. So much to do and see. I especially want to go back to—"

"The Anatomical Museum?" Luke asked.

"No!" Carly said emphatically. "But the Museum of Edinburgh, the National Portrait Gallery. Oh! And the Museum of Childhood, Harry Potter sights! You know. Surely, you remember? Fun and enjoyable things to do in an exceptionally beautiful and historic city!"

Luke, she saw, was smiling. "Sure. Here's hoping. And there is Kevin's right before us. Handsome architecture. Love the brick and the columns. So, what was that beer?"

"Tennent's Zero," Carly told him.

"Well, let's go have a few. Though..."

"Though?"

"Someone is spiking drinks with something even worse than a date rape drug," Luke said. "We need to watch everything going on."

She nodded. "But I was given a can, remember?"

"Right. And if they're spiking something, I think it would be the whiskey," Luke said. "Take a country's pride and twist it. Anyway...straight for the bar? This place wasn't on the lists that MacDuff had where inspectors had gone out with images of the victims and found out they had been seen there."

"I don't think anyone is going to have seen Lila at Kevin's. I don't think she ever made it that far," Carly said.

"We'll find out. Straight to the bar," Luke said.

Again, the place was busy. But they were lucky. Even as they stepped in and looked around, a young couple left the bar.

They quickly gained their seats.

Kevin's might have been in Old Town, but it had a New Town vibe. The rock music was louder here, the furniture was modern, and the lighting was dim and twisted with many colors. The clientele was mainly young; most everyone looked to be in their twenties or early thirties at the oldest. But as they took their seats, a smiling bartender came toward them, a man who appeared to be older than the rest of the customers and waitstaff, maybe even fifty.

"Welcome! What may I do fer ye?" he inquired, his brogue thick.

"Two Tennent's Zeros," Luke said. "Please."

"Not drinking?" the man asked.

"We just love pubs," Carly said sweetly.

"A true modern pub!" the man said. "But—"

"Sir," Carly said. "We're working with the National Crime Agency. We need to know if you remember ever seeing this woman in here." She produced her phone with a picture of Lila Strom.

The man, slightly gray with a clipped but graying beard and mustache, frowned with serious dark eyes. "I saw that picture. I saw her on the news. I heard what happened."

"People say she was on her way here. Did you see her? Did she make it here?" Luke asked.

"Sorry, I'm the Kevin of Kevin's, Kevin Burns," the man told them. "And I've been here every night since we opened the pub. I've been very grateful to be a success so far, but business is starting to go down. People are too frightened to go out. I did not see the lass, but I'll be glad to speak with all me staff and find out if anyone did see her."

"That would be very kind of you," Carly said.

"Oh! May I see your credentials?" he asked. "Forgive me, but these days—"

"Of course!" Luke assured him. "And you're right. You can't be too careful."

They showed him their badges and he nodded grimly. He walked around to the back of the bar, speaking to a young woman who was also working the bar area. She frowned, shook her head and pointed to one of their customers.

Kevin frowned and hurried back to them.

"Catherine, my bartender, says that she was speaking yesterday to the young woman in the booth back there. The young woman is waiting for her father and her brother—she got out of work late and is afraid to walk home alone. She told Catherine yesterday she had seen the young woman who was killed back at another restaurant, and they'd talked about coming here. The lass's name is Jane Durfey, and Catherine says she knows she'll be happy to speak with you."

"Thank you!" Luke said, producing a credit card next. "We'll take those Tennent's Zeros, sir, and do our best not to scare anyone out of your pub."

"Thank you. On the house, please!"

He dug into a cooler and produced the beers. Carly said not to worry—they didn't need glasses. Then she looked at Luke.

Kevin of Kevin's seemed truly ready to help them. His bartender, Catherine, moved over to the table first, flashing a smile but explaining to the young woman who they were.

Carly looked at Luke.

No, they were both sure Lila Strom had never made it to this pub.

But they just might learn a little bit more about her final night.