Murder in the Queen's Armes

'Wait a minute,” Abe said, brightening. “Maybe that's the wrong question. Maybe the question should be: Who had anything to lose?'

'And the answer,” Julie said excitedly, “would be Nate Marcus. Couldn't somebody have sabotaged him? Duped him into thinking he had a legitimate find that proved his theory, so that in the end he'd be ruined because the thing would eventually be shown to be a fraud?'

'That,” Gideon said admiringly, “is absolutely labyrinthine. But I don't know if it holds up. If someone was doing it to discredit Nate, how could he know for sure the fraud would even be discovered? Sure, I recognized it as Pummy when I saw it, but a lot of anthropologists might not, and for all anyone knew, the substitution in the Dorchester Museum might have gone unnoticed for years—and Nate would have been a hero.'

'Unless,” Abe said, “Julie's secret hoaxer made sure the word got out; for example, a little word to the West Dorset Times? There was a reporter waiting at the gate for us, you know.'

'Yes, I know,” Gideon said. “And that reminds me... Abe, you never told the Times I was coming to Stonebarrow Fell, did you? Or anyone on the dig?'

Abe looked blankly at him. “What for?'

'That's what I thought,” Gideon said. “Now, back to this theory you two are cooking up—this unnecessarily rococo theory, to borrow a phrase—I think it falls down on one crucial point; from what you said, Abe, Nate's maintaining that he discovered the thing personally, without any little hints from anyone else. So how could anyone be duping him?'

'That's true,” Abe mused. “Even when he saw it, he almost didn't see it.'

'That's what he says,” Julie said vigorously. “Maybe he's protecting someone.'

'Protecting the one who sabotaged him?” Gideon asked.

'Well...” Julie laughed suddenly. “I think you're right. This theory's started to sound a little unga . . . umpki...'

'Ungepotchket,' Abe said, a smile on his face. “Very good. You learn quick. But ungepotchket or not, I think maybe you got something. Only what, I don't know.'

Gideon thought so too. Something wasn't quite right in her rationale, but the basic idea was starting to make sense. Nate had the most to lose, all right, and plenty of well-earned enemies who would love to see him lose it. Was it possible that he'd been set up? But how? They were silent for a moment, and then Julie asked, “Abe, what will happen to him now? What will they do to him?'

'Nothing will happen to him,” Abe said with a shrug. “They'll just close down the dig, that's all. And Professor Hall-Waddington doesn't want to press any charges; he just wants his skull back. But Nathan's reputation is finished. He'll never lead another dig, and if he ever gets out of that little college in Missouri, I'll be surprised. It's a pity; a sad ending for a boy with a lot of promise.'

'It sure is,” Gideon said. “And you wasted a lot of time and money coming all the way out here.'

'Not wasted,” Abe said, and as the old man looked up, Gideon saw a telltale gleam in his eye. “You don't close down a dig overnight, even a little one. It takes a few days to wind it down, right? You got to backfill, clean up, straighten out the catalog, write a site report....They asked Nathan to do it—which was a kindness, in my opinion —but he said no. Your Inspector Bagshawe told him he has to stay in Charmouth awhile, but if he never sees Stonebarrow Fell again, it will be too soon. So I said I would do it.'

'You? You're going to personally supervise closing it down?'

'Sure, what's the big surprise? Who else, Frawley? Why not me?'

'For one thing, because you're a cultural anthropologist, not an archaeologist.'

'In my day,” Abe said, “anthropology wasn't split into a hundred little pigeonholes —microethnology, paleolinguistics—you were an anthropologist, that's all, and you had to learn everything.'

'All right, but still—why you? Why aren't Robyn and Arbuckle doing it? They're the ones who say it has to be shut down.'

'It's not their job,” Abe said, showing a little impatience. “Robyn left already for Bournemouth, and Arbuckle went back to his dig in France for a couple of days. They'll come back and check and see that I closed it down right, and that's that.'

'Robyn and Arbuckle are going to check on you?'

'Why not? They have to sign the final papers. Look, Gideon, what's all this arguing? Don't make a big tzimiss out of it. I'm glad to get the chance to do something... better than watch the rain fall down in Washington.'

'What about your arthritis, Abe?” Gideon said more gently. “It's a four-hundred-foot climb.'

Abe waved his hand grandly. “I walked it today, didn't I? Did I complain? Did I slow anybody up?...Well, maybe a little, but what's the hurry? Gideon, it'll be fun for me, something for an old man to do.'

'Abe,” Gideon said slowly, “closing down a dig isn't fun. You're doing it because this whole thing doesn't sit right with you, and you think you can do a little poking around up there. Am I right?'

'Did I say you were wrong? And what's more, it doesn't sit right with you, either. There's somewhere a little monkey business, something rotten in Denmark, no?'

'Well—'

Julie put down her teacup with a rattle. “Now wait a minute, you two. In the first place, from what you tell us, Gideon, Inspector Bagshawe is more than capable of handling any monkey business. And in the second place, if one of those people up there really is a murderer, then... Abe, are you sure you want to be up there on that lonely hill, alone with them?'

'Eh,” Abe said. “If one of them really killed that boy, already he's shaking with fright. To kill someone else right in the same place is the last thing he'll do. Besides, the police will be over the place for a few days. And anyway, what do I know about murders? That's your husband's department. But I'll tell you the truth.” He poked his own