Murder in the Queen's Armes

'Now, see here,” said Robyn. “I feel I must stand up on behalf of the Bronze Age. For myself, I'd rather deal with jeweled daggers and filigreed breastplates, and pendants of Baltic amber—all neatly tucked away for me in barrows—than go grubbing in muddy riverbeds for vulgar rock choppers and gnawed elephant bones left by coarse and unhygienic man-apes.'

Gideon was about to reply when he heard the front door of the hotel open and close, and then the welcome sound of Julie's footsteps in the entry hall. (When had he learned to recognize them?) He half rose, but Robyn was even quicker, springing lightly to his feet.

'Ah, my dear Mrs. Oliver,” he said, oozing urbanity, “you are indeed a welcome sight. We've been discussing the most dreary sorts of things for far too long. Now I'd like to propose that you and Professor Oliver join us for dinner. I know a perfectly delightful old coaching inn at Honiton.'

He smiled engagingly, the lines around his eyes folding into a fan of handsome crinkles. “I won't take no for an answer.'

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SIX

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THE restaurant was as charming as Robyn had promised, and they finished two bottles of wine, so the four of them passed a reasonably pleasant evening, during which the subject of Stonebarrow Fell never arose. Robyn was witty and gallant, and Paul made polite, vague conversation. He even managed to come out of his shell in his own blinking, resolute fashion when Robyn said that since the inquiry wasn't until Thursday, why didn't he and Arbuckle motor to Swanscombe the next day and have a look at the famous site where England's oldest human remains had been discovered fifty years before?

When they got back to the hotel, Arbuckle was, in fact, loosened up enough to suggest they have after-dinner drinks in the lounge, where Hinshore had kept the fire going for them. Gideon declined, and he and Julie went up to their room, leaving the two men sprawled (Robyn even managed to sprawl elegantly) in the big chairs, each with a brandy snifter at his elbow.

'Whew!” Julie sighed the moment they'd shut the door. She flung herself into his arms, driving him back against the wall with a thump. “I love you,” she said, and pulled his face down to kiss him firmly on the lips. “You neat, attractive man!” She put her head against his shoulder and hugged him hard.

'Hey,” he said, delighted. “What's all this about?'

'I haven't had you alone almost all day! Do you realize this is the first time that's happened since we've been married?'

'Well, the magic has to end sometime,” he said lightly, but he hadn't liked it either. He liked this very much better. He put his lips to her hair, fresh-smelling despite Robyn's endless smoking.

Julie slipped her arms under his sport coat and pressed her palms flat against his back, pulling him against her. He could feel how warm her hands were through the thin cloth of his shirt. She was wearing a blouse with a wide, square-cut neckline, and he placed his hands gently along her throat. Under the heavy, dark hair, the nape of her neck was lusciously long and curved. And naked. He let his fingers move to her shoulders under the border of the blouse and felt her flesh respond to his touch.

'Besides, I was worried about you,” she murmured, scarcely audible against the tweed of his jacket. “I kept worrying that you'd go climbing on those stupid cliffs and fall off. Or get run over by a car on your way back because you're absentminded and you'd forget they drive on the other side of the street. Isn't that silly?'

'Yes,” he said. “Ridiculous.” He kissed her hair again and stroked the firm, soft flesh of her shoulders.

'And then,” she said, her cheek still against him, “when we were finally able to have dinner together, we had to spend it with those boring people.” She began to finger the buttons of his shirt.

'Boring? I thought Robyn was supposed to be sexy and interesting.'

She shook her head. “He smokes too much. And his hair's too perfect. He looks like a salesman in a clothing store, or a TV actor. And he doesn't have any hair on his chest. And he's too sure of how fantastically attractive he is.'

Gideon laughed. “And just how do you happen to know he doesn't have any hair on his chest?'

Her fingers began to work at his shirt buttons. “Oh,” she said, “you can tell. He's just not the type. Not enough of that hairy male hormone, whatever you call it. He's got a flat, white, hairless chest without those what-do-you- call-them muscles.'

'Pectoralis major. And testosterone.'

'Yes,” she said, and undid a couple of the buttons.

'And you don't like hairless white chests.'

'No. I like them like yours. For when my nose itches.” She rubbed her nose briskly against his chest. He bent suddenly and lifted her off her feet. It struck him as astonishing that he had never done it before in almost three weeks of marriage.

'Gideon!” she said, caught by surprise. “I'm too heavy!'

'Is that right?” he said, cradling her easily in his arms, showing off, feeling pleasantly powerful and in command. And full of testosterone. When he opened the door and stepped abruptly out into the hall with her, she jerked in his arms.

'Gideon! What are you doing?'

'I thought you wanted to make love on the hearth,” he said.

'There are people down there!” she whispered urgently.