Read Online Time Enough To Die by Lillian Stewart Carl - Free Book Online

was likely to have another go at her whilst she was with the students. She'd survived the five days between Forrest's office and Corcester without Gareth hovering protectively over her. Her mishap in the tube station had probably been an accident. Still Gareth had walked her to the door of her room last night and made sure no one was inside. She'd thanked him politely. If she was frightened she was hiding it well.
    "Morning, S...” said Watkins, the truncated “sir” making a sibilant.
    "Good morning, Constable.” And under his breath, “Clapper was telling me that Linda Burkett was seen with Reynolds."
    "Several days before she died, that was,” Watkins replied. “Reynolds was at home with his wife at the time of the murder, near as we could estimate."
    "What about a local girl named Emma Price?"
    Watkins frowned slightly. “What about her?
    "She was having it off with a fellow named Nick, at the traveler's camp. She said he'd bewitched her or some sort of rot."
    "That weren't witchery, that were biology, if you take my meaning, Ins ... Mr. March. Some of the lads were nattering about devil-worship, true, but I reckon Nick and his mates were having them on. Finding Linda's body up on Durslow Edge in February gave everyone a turn, like. That's all."
    Gareth was perfectly willing to believe that was all.... His shoulders prickled and he glanced round. Clapper was standing in his window, his massive frame wavering like a manta ray in the old glass. He smiled and nodded. Gareth smiled and nodded back again, then pulled out his notebook and scrawled a few random words in it. “Thank you, Constable. It must be very interesting to walk a beat in a town with a Roman heritage."
    "Oh—er—that it is,” said Watkins, and with a roll of his eyes toward the window ambled away up the sidewalk.
    Mind your step, Gareth admonished himself. One person seeing him with Watkins was all right, but he didn't want anyone else to.
    He crossed the street and skirted the cottages and the bowling green. As he crossed the second street a few raindrops plopped softly on his head. Some of the students glanced up in annoyance. Sweeney produced a furled umbrella and flourished it at the sky. Gareth felt no more raindrops.
    The three trenches, dark gashes in the damp green grass, were already revealing muddy shapes. Except for the occasional “Ewww” when someone encountered a not-very-ancient relic of cow, the students were working quietly and efficiently.
    Manfred stood over his group with transit and plumb bob, making sure the trench was exactly six feet wide and its sides were a proper ninety degrees. Jason was in the trench with his group, taking the shovels from their hands and doing the tricky bits himself. Caterina hunkered down, troweling a large flat stone. At least, Gareth told himself, she and her lover had the decency not to bring their extra-curricular activities to work with them. Lads that age tended to be frivolous and girls foolish, silly little Emma Price being a case in point.
    Gareth could hardly blame these lads for moments of inattention, though, when the charms of the girls were displayed a treat by snug blue jeans. Ashley, the girl with the typical American unisex name, was using a small pick to clear a stone wall a few paces away from the others. Yesterday she'd reminded Gareth of a kitten. He'd felt like offering her a saucer of milk.
    Bryan eyed Ashley's progress and said something encouraging, then walked on, checking that each member of his group was doing his or her assigned task. Jennifer put a camera back in its case, set it down with the other equipment, and picked up a sketch pad. Sweeney tucked his umbrella beneath his arm like a swagger stick and moved from group to group. “Objects are all to the good, children, but we need surfaces—surfaces, now, a light touch...."
    Speaking of jiggery-pokery, there was Matilda. No, that wasn't fair. Gareth had no proof that Matilda was a charlatan. Or that she wasn't.