Murder in the Queen's Armes

folks.'

His papery face suddenly crinkled in a laugh, and on the spur of the moment Gideon got up and gently embraced the frail figure. “Good night, Abe. Sleep well. I'm glad you're here.'

When he had left, Gideon said to Julie, “He really could have a point, you know.'

'Of course I got a point!” floated down the hall, followed by the closing of a door.

'Well,” Julie said, “you do seem in the thick of things for a man who was going to be uninvolved.'

'I know. It's funny, isn't it? But none of it was my doing, and once I give Bagshawe a call in the morning—and go up to the site at ten—I'm out of it.'

Julie smiled and leaned back comfortably in her chair. In the firelight her cheeks were peach-colored and transparent-looking, as smooth and soft as the petals of a rose; she might have been a candlelit Madonna of Geertgen or La Tour. “Sure you are,” she said. “All the same...'

'All the same you just have a feeling.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Me, too. And to tell the truth, I wish there was something I could do.'

'Well,” she said, and leaned forward to stroke the line of his jaw, “Abe's certainly right about one thing. Life with you isn't dull.'

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ELEVEN

* * * *

THE next morning Gideon called police headquarters. Inspector Bagshawe wasn't in, but Wilson Merrill was. The pathologist began to talk excitedly as soon as he picked up the telephone; the remains had definitely been identified as those of Randy Alexander.

'How?” Gideon asked, “Dental records?'

'Yes, the forensic people telephoned the police in Missouri—or is it Missoula? Or are they the same place?—and were put in touch with the young man's dentist. Indeed, Alexander's dental records matched exactly what we'd found in the cadaver. The charts are on their way, but there's no doubt about it. The only mildly disturbing element, of course, is the state of decomposition of the body after only two weeks, but I suppose we just have to attribute that to—'

Gideon quickly outlined his hypothesis about Alexander's body having lain in the warm lagoon at the base of Stonebarrow Fell for two weeks before it drifted out to sea.

'Why, yes, that would account for it, of course!” Merrill was delighted. “In summer, no doubt, someone would have discovered it the next day, but in winter there'd be no one on the beach to find it. Splendid work! I'll go and have a look at that lagoon myself.” There was a pause. “Oh, I say. That would mean—unless there are similar lagoons in the area—that he might very well have been thrown from Stonebarrow Fell itself, wouldn't it?'

'I'm afraid so. Highly likely, I'd say. And what's more, it appears that there haven't been any visitors to the dig for a month, so...'

'Oh, dear. The murderer would have to be a member of the expedition, wouldn't he? Unpleasant.'

'It looks that way, yes. But of course I might be off-base. I'm afraid the inspector will think it's all pretty speculative.'

'I'm afraid it's a better guess than you think. The instrument that broke Alexander's arm has been quite positively identified as a mallet from the tool chest of the excavation.'

'But how is that possible? How could you make such an identification?'

'Not I, but our forensic scientists in London once again, and a first-rate piece of sleuthing it was too. Do you remember Inspector Bagshawe's idea about the sleeve of Alexander's leather jacket providing some clue as to the weapon?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Well, it provided more than a clue. In the first place, there was an indentation in the leather, indicating that the weapon had a flat striking surface with a well-defined circular margin—like that of a hammer or a mallet. Now, adhering to the leather itself—embedded in it, actually—they found a ragged scrap of paper.'

'Paper? But it'd been in the water for two weeks. Wouldn't it rot?'

'So I should have thought. But, I am instructed, that doesn't always occur. In this case, the sizing had indeed rotted away, but the paper fiber itself was still there, as was some cement on the back of it, and there was even a ghost of printing on it which, under analysis, turned out to be the lowercase letters a and s. Intriguing, isn't it? Now what would you guess this mysterious shred of paper to be?'

Gideon was silent. Even if he'd had any idea, he'd hardly have wanted to spoil Merrill's enjoyment.

'Ha.” Merrill cleared his throat. “Well, to make a long story short, the paper was an adhesive label of the sort put on objects to identify and price them. What had happened was that the tag had apparently been placed on the mallet carelessly, so that it was draped over an edge of the striking surface, partly on that surface itself, partly on the side of the mallet's head, where it belonged. Moreover, the part that was on the striking surface had not adhered thoroughly— one corner had gotten folded over, so that the adhesive side of it was facing up. Do you follow me?'

'I think so, yes. When Randy was hit with the mallet, the glued side of the paper—which was uppermost—must