The Professor was further dismayed to learn that there wasn’t a twenty-four-hour pharmacy or supermarket close to the hotel. Even the Marks & Spencer at Waverley Station was closed. And that was how he’d found himself in the back of his hired car, being chauffeured through the rain to a large twenty-four-hour supermarket in Leith, some twenty minutes away.
Arriving at the supermarket was one thing; finding diaper cream was quite another, especially since the supermarket didn’t seem to carry any of the brands they used back in America. Gabriel called Julianne three times as he walked the aisles trying in vain to discover the correct item. After being told in no uncertain terms by his wife that she was going to bed and that she would speak to him when she woke up for Clare’s next feeding, he purchased four different products, hoping at least one of them would suffice.
When he finally returned to the Caledonian he was in a very bad humor. He scowled up at the brightly lit Edinburgh Castle as he exited the hired car. The doorman greeted him with an open umbrella and escorted him into the hotel.
It was at that moment Gabriel received an incoming text from Jack Mitchell.
He shook the rain from his coat and cap and walked straight to the Caley Bar so he could read the text privately. He ordered a double espresso from the bartender, grousing internally about his inability to order Scotch.
It’s a crime against hospitality, he thought. All that beautiful Scotch, just waiting for the right palate to appreciate it. With this rain, I’ll probably catch pneumonia and die. All Sage Lecturers should be issued antibiotics on arrival. Perhaps as part of the welcoming fruit basket.
As the bartender made his espresso, the Professor withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and read the text.
Nothing on the Nissan.
If you see it again, take a photo.
Will check in on J’s roommate and the senator’s son.
The text was clear enough. Looking for a black Nissan without a license plate number in the Boston area was next to impossible. Still, Jack was nothing if not thorough. He was going to look into Natalie Lundy, Julia’s former roommate, and Simon Talbot, her ex-boyfriend.
Gabriel’s lip curled in distaste. If he ever saw that son of a bitch again . . .
He closed the text message window and placed his phone on top of the bar. A picture of Clare gazed up at him from the screen.
The rain stopped, the clouds parted, and Professor Gabriel Emerson smiled.
He removed his coat and cap, hastily putting them aside along with his umbrella and his shopping bag. He ran his hand through his unruly hair and quickly sat, scrolling through the photographs of Clare and Julianne.
A trip to the store after midnight isn’t so bad; not when such angels wait for me upstairs.
The bartender served the espresso, along with a small plate of biscuits and a glass of ice water.
He sipped his coffee and was suddenly seized with a coughing fit.
It’s already begun. I’ve contracted pneumonia.
“I won’t have what he’s having.” A female voice sounded to his right. “I’ll have a martini, please, up with an olive.”
Two seats over stood a dark-haired woman who spoke with a smooth English lilt. She placed her leather briefcase on the floor next to her chair and sat, thanking the bartender as he poured her drink. He set a small platter of nuts in front of her, which she sampled immediately.
Gabriel sipped his coffee again, hoping it would soothe his cough. He was almost satisfied with the result.
“Bit cold out, isn’t it?” She smiled conspiratorially.
“Glacial. Does it rain like this all the time?”
The woman shrugged. “I live in London. But the summers here are very nice. The sun doesn’t set at night until past ten o’clock.”
“Humph,” said Gabriel.
“American?” she asked, after tasting her martini.
“Yes.”
“What brings you to a rainy Edinburgh?”
“I’m a guest of the university.”
“Me as well.” The woman looked over her shoulder. “I was supposed to meet my crew here, but I think they’ve gone out without me. Bollocks.”
Gabriel finished his espresso and ordered another. “What kind of crew?”
“Television.” The woman moved her glasses from on top of her head so she could read the bar menu. “We’ve come up from London to cover something at the university.
“I can’t believe they left me.” She looked around the bar, which was almost empty. “Those bastards.”
“You’re a television presenter?” Gabriel asked politely.
“God, no. I’m the producer.” She lifted her martini in his direction. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Gabriel lifted his cup in return.
“Right. So what are you doing for the university?”
Gabriel paused as the bartender served his second espresso and another plate of biscuits. “A series of meetings, knowledge transfer, that sort of thing.”
The woman’s mouth twitched. “Are you the one with the knowledge, or is it the other way round?”
“Mostly me.”
“What kind of knowledge are you transferring? Gravitational waves? Theology? The price of cheese and international trade?”
“Dante Alighieri.” Gabriel drank his espresso.
The woman put down her drink. “Really?”
Gabriel smothered a smile. “Yes, really.”
“Dante is interesting but he spent an inordinate amount of time talking about Hell.”
“And traveling through it.”
The woman laughed. “Yes, but no one believes in Hell anymore. Isn’t it difficult to interest people in Dante? To make him relevant?”
Gabriel turned in his chair. “Dante addresses love, sex, redemption, and loss. Those subjects are of ultimate concern to all human beings. If you skip Inferno, you miss the best parts.”
“But it’s all about sin, isn’t it? Punishment. Torture. Very badly dressed people.”
“Think of it as a redemptive exploration of human behavior. Each deadly sin represents a singular obsession, and Dante shows us their consequences. It’s a cautionary tale, more than anything. Since he labels his work a comedy, he’s telling us he thinks the story of humanity has a happy ending.”
“Not sure the souls in Hell are happy, but I take your point.” The woman removed her olive from her martini and ate it. “What are the deadly sins again?”