And though never spoken aloud, and never asked for, the name McKinley had spread all throughout the University of Edinburgh by the time Constable Lennox had first stepped foot on the campus.
The ambassadors sent to address the police had been found in a state of perpetual chill. Snow dusted their hair, their noses were comfortably pink and fingers left numb. They could hardly even smell the English breakfast wafting down from the kitchen.
“Oh thank the good Lord you are here.” One of them sighed, scratching at his scarf through his gloves. “Are you here for McKinley?”
Lennox turned to his partner, Deputy Chief Constable Aitken. “I suppose we are. For the record, do you know anything of McKinley?”
The two ambassadors looked at each other. “Do you mind if we take this inside? Before we freeze I mean.”
“Women have never been allowed at Edinburgh University ever since it opened.” Carruthers, the third year ambassador with the scarf had practically collapsed over the dining hall food. “And when the college did open it’s doors to women, it wasn’t with open arms, I can tell you that.”
“Was there any threats of violence to the students?”
Fairbairn shook his fair head. “All of them were connected to the coppers, so you’d be a real knob to even consider attacking. Until… well until Cairn did, then everybody considered attacking.”
Lennox leaned forward, “Cairn?” That named had been whispered in his ear only a week prior when the detective had stormed out of his office. “Who is he?”
Fairbairn and Carruthers shrugged. “Second year, got more than a dosher in his pocket, but we don’t know much about him. Just that he was displeased with women in general, much less -” Fairbairn grunted, “Romani.”
“There are gy-”
“It’s like saying the Devil’s name.” Carruthers interrupted, “that meddling fool pops up to correct you. It’s better to say Romani or Egyptian, but yes, there are-or there is (perhaps ‘was’ is a more apt description) a Romani woman at this college. Good friends with McKinley and that other girl.”
“McKinley.” Lennox echoed, “How many other women came to this college?”
“None. Just those three. Rest went off to Oxford.”
“Just those three? Any of them go missing?”
Carruthers and Fairbairn shared a laugh, “Oh, wait you’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“I thought this was over the protests-yes, they went missing. All of them went missing. Including McKinley.”
“McKinley?” He tilted his head, “the detective-oh” Lennox bared his teeth in realization, “There was a detective that passed by recently, wasn’t there?”
“How’d you know?”
“Hello Detective.”
Lennox knocked his baton against the Detective’s shoulder. It was gentle though, Lennox smiled to himself when he saw the screwed look on the Detective’s face. Like another layer had been peeled back from the mysterious charade.
“I told you to stay off this investigation, you’re now violating multiple laws by being here.”
“I’m relative of a student. I can ask around how I please.” Without looking away from the hall, the detective began to wave a paper in Lennox’ face, marked simply with ‘visitor’s pass.’
“Which is why I’m letting you stay.” Lennox joined the detective in his observations. An empty room with three seats of medium height pulled up, the chalkboard was filled with cursive handwriting scripted by delicate hands and the air smelled faintly of cut roses.
“There were three students of the female gender at this college. There could be more, if it weren’t for the educational standards that women are subjected to and there could be more if it weren’t for the fact that they were scared away. What pride does Edinburgh dare boast when they can’t even conceive of a world where a woman might rival a man? Is it so fragile that change might shatter it and not strengthen it?”
“The world cannot conceive of a Romani woman attending this college.”
Detective waved the flier in front of Lennox’s face. ‘Misinformation of Supposed Witches.’ Not just a pamphlet on alternative religion, but also a correction, strongly worded statements against the attempted Egyptians act of both 1530 and 1554.
“All three women went missing,” Lennox sighed, shoulders heaving, “we’ll just have to retrace their steps since the night of the first call.
“I’ll search for the Romani woman and the unnamed one. For legal purposes, I’ll have you go after McKinley.”
“I’ve already asked around for her since it was the first name we received.” Though for obvious reasons, it was her first name used.
“Then look for Cairn.”
The detective tilted his head. Lennox smiled in triumph. Years of working together and this was the first time Lennox had information the detective didn’t.
“Cairn. The women called after you had left, said it was Cairn.”
“Fine then, I’ll find Cairn, you find Ms. Abbey and Ms. Pekrul.” The detective walked away. An air of solitude fell around him, cloaking him amongst the students.
The straggler was first to talk. By the time the snow had defrosted in the afternoon sun, the crowds of protestors had dispersed for their post-luncheon classes, and the one person left was a young Welsh man by the name of Smith, or Taylor, maybe even Jones who had then fessed that they may have heard something about someone called Pekrul and or perhaps Abbey hanging out with a man named Babbage.
Babbage (Nicknamed Babbaged the Babbler, only for good reason), a pale and lean man, had been scurrying around the literature building in between libraries and theses. When caught, he did indeed babble like an old man, sweating and red in the face till finally he had breathed on about Elizabeth-Marie.
An unfortunate sight for Lennox who was slow to learn that Elizabeth-Marie wasn’t a woman, even some odd name for a man, and only learned better when he chanced upon Elizabeth-Marie hall.
It was a quiet, empty place. The most he saw were a handful of students who were quick to sneak past him. He finally grabbed a Hindustan maid by the name of Harphale, who before he could even speak, had confessed to hiding two women inside of an empty room.
And when he knocked on the door, it was the detective who answered.
“Detective?”
“Next time, you leave this job to me.” Detective didn’t gloat. He never gloated.
He stepped back to reveal two young women, the Romani dressed in traditional English clothing (a surprise to Lennox who was prepared to criticize) a modest dress, a nice long coat and meager piece of jewelry around her neck. The other one had her head turned away, hair the color of straw cascaded down the sheets.
“We’re so glad you two are on the case, we’ve been worried oh so sick about our dearest McKinley and well…detective found us half as quick as you did.”
Lennox patiently took the remark at face value. “Who would ‘we’ be referring to?”
“Me and Abbey of course.” She turned over her shoulder, “Abbey love, the police are calling for you.”
Abbey rolled around the bed to meet Lennox, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and brushed the sleep out of her eye. “Is this about McKinley? Have they found her?”
“You mean, you don’t know where she is?”
Pekrul shook her head, “‘Tis a great shame, she went out late at night to spread the fliers and she never came back.”
Lennox folded his arms, “Is that why you called?”
“Called?” Abbey said incredulously, “How would we call?”
Lennox turned to the detective, imagining an expression of shock not too unlike the one on his own face. He was met with that of expectation.
“Your police boxes aren’t working.” The detective mentioned again and Lennox finally processed what he had meant.
“Then how did you know to call us about Cairn?”
“Cairn? What about Cairn? Cairn left the country the night before the protests started.” Pekrul grabbed the kettle from the shelf and lit the stove.
“Are you sure? Who called?”
Abbey and Pekrul consulted each other very briefly. “We’ve been secluded to Elizabeth-Marie hall since the protests started, Mrs. Haphale said that we would’ve been in danger if we hadn’t.”
“You made people that angry?”
Abbey scoffed, “Angry is an understatement. We received death threats Constable. McKinley was supposed to meet us back here when she was done, but she went out at around,” again they consulted each other, offering alternate times their friend must have left.
A dull tapping came across the room, like the sound of a typewriter beneath a thick wool blanket. Their attention was then drawn away from each other towards the back of the room where the electric telegraph had been tapping away by its lonesome.
“Who’s sending that message?” Detective pushed forward to speculate over the machine.
“We thought it was McKinley.”
“This message is nonsensical.” He hovered his finger over the button, ready to tap back when Abbey had cut in.
“It was around One, that our lovely McKinley messaged us over the telegraph at one and she erred to reply when we messaged back. She told us she had seen Cairn. At least, we think that’s what she said, the code got splotchy.”
“Yes, when she called she mentioned Cairn. Anything else you might want to add?”
Pekrul and Abbey shook their heads. “She mentioned she was near the Leith.”
“In the Leith.” Detective grumbled. “She wants us to check the Leith.”
