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Authors: Jeanne M. Dams
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keep mum.’
‘What I think he’ll do is go back and get roaring drunk. Anyway, did you get the watch?’
‘I did. I also took a good many pictures of it,
in situ
. Of course, you and Watson had disturbed it somewhat, but I couldn’t help that. I wish I’d known before I started that it was Andersen’s farm. I’d have sent you for backup. But it worked out well enough, thanks to our friend, here.’ He bent down to pat Watson, who was trotting along with a satisfied smirk on his face. ‘You’re a good dog, and you’re going to have a nice chunk of steak as soon as I can find you one.’
‘He’s a silly dog. I can’t figure out why he was interested in a watch, of all things.’
‘Oh, that’s an easy one.’ Alan plodded on.
I stopped dead. ‘Well, are you going to tell me?’
‘I thought I’d wait until we got back to the good Baikie. But if you insist …’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside, covered in mud and looking rather humiliated, was the watch. ‘If you’ll look closely, my dear …’
I peered at it, trying not to tip rain from my hair onto the bag. ‘I don’t see anything unusual. For a Rolex, I mean. Gold all over the place.’
‘Perhaps the conditions aren’t the best.’ He put the repellent object back in his pocket. ‘But when I dug it up, I was reasonably sure that there was, mixed in with the mud, a fair amount of blood.’
SEVEN
I looked at him sharply. ‘Should you have dug it up, then?’
‘No. I should have left it to be examined properly by a forensics expert. In an ideal world. But I’m not a miracle worker, woman, just a plodding ex-policeman trying to do the best I can in less than ideal circumstances. The rain is pelting down and has already washed away who knows what evidence. Then there’s Watson, here, and doubtless other animals around who might take an interest. Sheep are odd animals and can be very curious.’
‘And there’s Duncan Andersen, panting to dig up the whole area in search of Viking gold. He caught a glimpse of that watch, I’m sure, at least enough to see the colour. All right, I take your point. If we had all of Scotland Yard here we – that is, you – could conduct a proper investigation. As it is, shall we get back to the tents? I’m freezing again.’
The rain had settled down to the sort of steady drizzle that can go on for days. Even Watson had lost his enthusiasm for a walk and splashed along as disconsolate as the rest of us. When we got to the tents, I ducked into one that was unoccupied, so Watson could shake himself without getting yet more rain and mud on the group in the big tent. I should have been interested in what was being said, in the reaction to Watson’s find. At the moment I was interested in nothing but getting warm and dry. I sat on a miserably uncomfortable camp stool and shivered, trying to wipe my streaming nose with a sodden tissue from my pocket. Watson sat on my feet and shivered, whining now and then in sympathetic distress. Once or twice I sneezed.
When Alan came to find me, he took one look at the pair of us and held out his hand. ‘Mr Norquist will stay here for a bit, but I’ve organized transport back to the boat landing for us,’ he said. ‘Not deluxe, but it’ll keep you from getting much wetter.’
‘I couldn’t get any wetter if you threw me in the sea,’ I croaked. ‘I thought you said we were supposed to have good weather all week.’
‘The weather chaps lied. And you’re coming down with a cold. Come along, wench. There’s a thermos of coffee in the boat, and Baikie insisted I take his flask of whisky. I know you prefer bourbon, but for medicinal purposes one form of alcohol is as good as another.’
‘Any Scotsman would boil you in oil for classifying good single-malt as medicine, but I’ll take a dose with pleasure.’ He handed me the flask, which I put in my back pocket as I followed Alan to the vehicle he’d found somewhere, a sort of
‘What I think he’ll do is go back and get roaring drunk. Anyway, did you get the watch?’
‘I did. I also took a good many pictures of it,
in situ
. Of course, you and Watson had disturbed it somewhat, but I couldn’t help that. I wish I’d known before I started that it was Andersen’s farm. I’d have sent you for backup. But it worked out well enough, thanks to our friend, here.’ He bent down to pat Watson, who was trotting along with a satisfied smirk on his face. ‘You’re a good dog, and you’re going to have a nice chunk of steak as soon as I can find you one.’
‘He’s a silly dog. I can’t figure out why he was interested in a watch, of all things.’
‘Oh, that’s an easy one.’ Alan plodded on.
I stopped dead. ‘Well, are you going to tell me?’
‘I thought I’d wait until we got back to the good Baikie. But if you insist …’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside, covered in mud and looking rather humiliated, was the watch. ‘If you’ll look closely, my dear …’
I peered at it, trying not to tip rain from my hair onto the bag. ‘I don’t see anything unusual. For a Rolex, I mean. Gold all over the place.’
‘Perhaps the conditions aren’t the best.’ He put the repellent object back in his pocket. ‘But when I dug it up, I was reasonably sure that there was, mixed in with the mud, a fair amount of blood.’
SEVEN
I looked at him sharply. ‘Should you have dug it up, then?’
‘No. I should have left it to be examined properly by a forensics expert. In an ideal world. But I’m not a miracle worker, woman, just a plodding ex-policeman trying to do the best I can in less than ideal circumstances. The rain is pelting down and has already washed away who knows what evidence. Then there’s Watson, here, and doubtless other animals around who might take an interest. Sheep are odd animals and can be very curious.’
‘And there’s Duncan Andersen, panting to dig up the whole area in search of Viking gold. He caught a glimpse of that watch, I’m sure, at least enough to see the colour. All right, I take your point. If we had all of Scotland Yard here we – that is, you – could conduct a proper investigation. As it is, shall we get back to the tents? I’m freezing again.’
The rain had settled down to the sort of steady drizzle that can go on for days. Even Watson had lost his enthusiasm for a walk and splashed along as disconsolate as the rest of us. When we got to the tents, I ducked into one that was unoccupied, so Watson could shake himself without getting yet more rain and mud on the group in the big tent. I should have been interested in what was being said, in the reaction to Watson’s find. At the moment I was interested in nothing but getting warm and dry. I sat on a miserably uncomfortable camp stool and shivered, trying to wipe my streaming nose with a sodden tissue from my pocket. Watson sat on my feet and shivered, whining now and then in sympathetic distress. Once or twice I sneezed.
When Alan came to find me, he took one look at the pair of us and held out his hand. ‘Mr Norquist will stay here for a bit, but I’ve organized transport back to the boat landing for us,’ he said. ‘Not deluxe, but it’ll keep you from getting much wetter.’
‘I couldn’t get any wetter if you threw me in the sea,’ I croaked. ‘I thought you said we were supposed to have good weather all week.’
‘The weather chaps lied. And you’re coming down with a cold. Come along, wench. There’s a thermos of coffee in the boat, and Baikie insisted I take his flask of whisky. I know you prefer bourbon, but for medicinal purposes one form of alcohol is as good as another.’
‘Any Scotsman would boil you in oil for classifying good single-malt as medicine, but I’ll take a dose with pleasure.’ He handed me the flask, which I put in my back pocket as I followed Alan to the vehicle he’d found somewhere, a sort of
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