Chapter 12
OLD TOWN
Munro
He knew that he was being followed. He was not surprised as he first took a coach from Parliament Square, then continued afoot near the warehouse district.
It was what he would have done if he wanted to find out if someone had been poking around, asking questions, looking for someone.
He was aware, too, when another man took the first one’s place and then followed as he continued across two streets, turned down an alley, then approached the building from the alleyway at the back.
It was well-guarded, two more men positioned one at either side of the smaller door beside the rolling doors at the dock where he’d had cases of Old Lodge whisky delivered in the past on behalf of her ladyship.
The tip of a cigarette glowed brighter, and he drew the knife he always carried as one of the men stepped out of the darkness to greet him. Mostly likely with a club or possibly a knife as well.
“I’m here to see Campbell,” he called out. “Munro is the name.”
He knew well enough that giving his name could go either way. A man like Campbell had to be careful. There was no guarantee that he would provide the information he wanted, and might choose instead to gut him like a fish. He was not of a mind to let that happen.
“You were here before.”
The man’s tone told him two things: that he was known and that the man considered himself to be in charge.
“If ye will be so kind to let him know that I need to speak with him about a business matter,” he replied in a steady tone, even as his fingers flexed, then tightened around the handle of the knife.
There was a shout to his companion, then the man came at him.
He’d learned to survive on some of those very same streets, with some of the same people, and moved instinctively as the guard closed in.
He threw a blow that caught the man in that soft place just below his chest. Then, as he doubled over in pain, Munro grabbed him by the neck of the jacket the man wore.
He brought the knife up against his throat and pulled him around so that his companion could see him in the pale light from an electric lamp that glowed over the door.
“If ye would be so kind as to tell Mr. Campbell that I want to meet with him, face-to-face.” He pressed the blade into the throat of the man he now held prisoner.
His companion disappeared inside the warehouse. It was the man himself who appeared.
“Let him go. Then explain to me the reason ye come here and attack me men. Ye live dangerously, Munro.”
“Not as dangerously as these two,” he replied, as he shoved his prisoners away from him.
Campbell indicated for the two men to go inside. Both hesitated, looking at one another, then back at him.
“Get inside and send Sean and Mick to take yer place, since it seems that ye canna hold off one man between ye.”
When they had gone inside, Campbell indicated for him to follow.
“Ye go first,” Munro told him. Campbell laughed, then entered the building ahead of him.
“To wot do I owe the pleasure of a visit from ye, twice in less than a week?” Campbell offered whisky. Munro shook his head.
“Wot have ye been able to learn of the man I spoke of?”
Campell downed the whisky he had poured for himself, then shook his head.
“Not a word,” he replied with a shrug. “If the man is out there, he’s careful. Perhaps he’s gone after wot ye explained about the encounter. Or, it might never have happened.”
It had happened. Lily Montgomery was intelligent, calm afterward, and had no reason to lie.
Campell was the one who was lying. He saw it in the way that gaze edged away from his own, in the drumming of his fingers on the scarred desktop.
What was he hiding? Was it possible the man Lily had encountered was an associate? Or was it something else?
A man like Campbell was driven by greed. Even well paid, as he was, with the agreement they made. Perhaps too well paid, Munro thought. Or perhaps by another client.
“I will continue to try to find information about the man, and my men will as well,” he was saying now. “And our agreement still stands,” he reminded him.
“Of course,” Munro replied.
“I’ll be certain to send round word when I learn something about the man. Our bargain still stands?” he repeated.
For whatever the man’s reasons, he was willing to lie about it. Munro would remember that.
Their meeting was over.
“Aye, once I have the information I asked for.” He turned to leave.
“Use the front entrance without concern that ye might encounter one of my people. And there is the old coaching inn nearby where ye may find a driver to take ye on about yer business.”
He didn’t trust the man, but the front of the warehouse was lit with more than one lantern, and he already knew what waited in the back alley, by the names Sean and Mick.
“I’ll make certain that McKeon, who you encountered, sharpens his skills with a knife.”
It was a warning. Munro nodded as he left the man’s office and crossed the warehouse floor, aware of the eyes that watched as he left. As he stepped out onto the cobbled step, a shadow darted across his path. A very small shadow that turned out to be a boy when he grabbed him about the neck.
“What were ye doin’ there and wot is yer name?”
Two questions he doubted the boy would even answer as he fought and struggled.
“Me name’s Kip, and I sleep here sometimes.”
Kip? It was common enough, he thought. Still...the boy fit the description Lily had given after the encounter at the Close and again at the Grassmarket.
“Wot is yer name?” the imp demanded with amazing bluster, considering he was presently dangling almost two feet off the ground.
“Wot were ye doing at the Grassmarket the night before when a young woman was attacked?”
Kip’s eyes widened. “Ye weren’t there, I woulda seen ya. The blighter attacked her and she fought back...”
Satisfied that the boy he held in the air was the same lad Lily had encountered, he lowered him to the ground but kept a firm hold on him.
“How do ye know her?” the boy demanded.
“I’m helping her find out who killed her friend at the Close. My name is Munro.”
“I heard ye askin’ Campbell about the man I saw that night. He’s the same one that attacked her at the marketplace. Campbell knows him.”
He took that in. He wasna surprised. The fact that the man said nothing of it, meant there was money involved.
“Tell me wot ye know,” he demanded.
The boy grinned. “It will cost ye.”
The same as he would have demanded, and had, when he was on the streets. The boy reminded him too much of himself.
“Not here,” he told him. “It’s too dangerous. Come with me.”
“How do I know ye’ll pay me?”
“How do I know that ye will tell me the truth?” Munro countered.
“Ye have to trust me.”
Cheeky lad.
“If ye do me wrong, I’ll bring ye back here for Campbell.”
Not that he would. It only mattered that the boy believed that he would.
“A half-crown,” the boy negotiated.
“I’ll give ye two, if the information is worth it.”
Parliament Square
“I know it was important for ye to find the woman,” Simon Sinclair said as we returned from Old Town.
“What was the woman to ye?”
The truth was that I didn’t know. I only knew the name, and had hoped I might learn the reason, if I could find her.
He knew the reason I had come to Edinburgh, but I hadn’t shared any of the details. It was easy enough to say that Jacobson was a name I remembered. The other part of it was not quite as easy to explain with the things that had happened since I’d arrived.
Still, he had been kind enough to accompany me. I felt that I owed him an explanation for when he should have been at the office completing his work for Sir McQuarrie’s court appointment the following morning. He would no doubt be putting in several more hours work through the evening.
“I’ve been searching for my real family. My friend Dory was helping me with that when...” There was no need for me to explain wot had happened. He was well aware.
“She found information for me and had written about it.”
“And she found the address at Moriston Place,” he concluded.
“Yes. I hoped the person by that name would be there and could possibly tell me something about my family.”
However, with what we had learned, that was now impossible. He reached across the aisle of the coach and touched my hand.
“I am so very sorry, Miss Montgomery. To have come all this way, how verra disappointing it must be for ye. My own family is gone now, but I have distant relatives verra near at Roslyn. I dinna know how I would feel if there was no one.
“You are a verra brave person.”
I smiled at wot was obviously a bit of flirtation. He was sincere, and I took it as such.
“At least ye know yer family name and a bit of yer history. I’ve never had that. It’s almost as if I do not exist.”
“Ah, ye do exist though, Miss Montgomery. Ye are a fine person, I can tell. Yer well educated, according to Sir McQuarrie. And ye know Latin!”
We both laughed at that.
It was well into early evening when we arrived back at the office at Parliament Square. The office was darkened. It appeared that Munro had not returned.
Inside the office, Simon found a note from Sir McQuarrie and groaned.
“He is most appreciative of the hours I will put in tonight for his court appearance in the morning.”
I apologized for having taken him away for something that had been disappointing in the least.
“If you will provide me with the legal text and the case you are looking for, I will be happy to help you.”
“Would you really consider it, Miss Montgomery?” he inquired. “I would be verra pleased to do so.”
He retrieved a somewhat intimidating leather volume from his desk and escorted me to the library. He then provided the case date, court file number, and the names of those involved.
He then retrieved a second volume from one of the shelves and brought it to the table as well. He took off his coat and we set to work.