“What happens now, Inspector?” He asked once he had finished.
“Well I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’d actually committed a crime, Professor, but I hope that you realise you may have interfered in a possible murder enquiry.”
Ralph waited.
“At least now that we know that the photos have been recovered, we can contact Marian Watts and get them back. You’ll need to come down and make a statement, or you could do that through your local police. I believe you know an Inspector Linham?”
Ralph now knew that the police network was alive and well. Having promised to call Inspector Linham first thing the next morning, he rang off.
He finished making the coffee. He wondered if he should call Katie so that she could warn Marian that the police were likely to ask her for the photos. Then he remembered what the Inspector had said about interfering in a possible murder case. Best to let Marian handle it herself, he mused. It was going to be embarrassing to explain to his friend Inspector Linham that he had made fool of himself by letting the Bishops presume he was from the police. It was not the first time he had acted on impulse, even when he knew it was not a good idea.
He scanned the local paper as he sipped his coffee. The conversation with Inspector Fletcher had shaken him. He remembered that he had not thanked Cynthia and Lance for the wonderful housewarming party. Katie had probably already spoken with Cynthia, but he thought he should thank them as well. He glanced at his watch and then dialed their number. Cynthia answered on the third ring.
“I hope I’m not phoning too early,” Ralph said. I just wanted to thank you again for a great evening. We loved your new home.”
“Oh, thanks Ralph. It was fun, wasn’t it? Peter was certainly a hit with all of those dance tunes he kept hammering out on the piano. If I’m not mistaken, I think I saw you and Katie out there once or twice.”
“Well, you know,” Ralph said, somewhat embarrassed that he’d been caught seeming to enjoy himself.
“By the way, you know that gold we read about in that article when we were down at your cottage? Well, my friend at The British Museum says she’ll give us a private look at the exhibition they’re putting on about Roman treasure found in England. She also told me that they’ve finished restoring and cataloging the Sherracombe Ford find and it’s in the collection.”
“That sounds great, Cynthia. Is that the same friend who helped us find out about Tutankhamun?”
“Yes, the same one. When would you and Katie like to see it? I’ll give her a call.”
“I’m afraid that Katie’s in Edinburgh.”
“Well she can see it another time, perhaps. I’ve only got Tuesday of next week free. So why don’t you meet me in the foyer of the Museum at say, eleven?”
It suited Ralph as it was the only day he had free; he was involved in end of semester meetings and invigilating exams for the rest of the week.
Ralph thanked Cynthia again before they rang off.
He looked out of the window. It was a good day for rowing; no breeze, and clear blue skies. He knew that the race crews at Molesey Boat Club were preparing for a regatta at Oxford. If he got down there before lunchtime he might be able to get a place in one of the boats. It was more than likely that someone had scratched or had an injury. He could almost feel the adrenaline pumping as he grabbed his sports bag and headed for the door. A good workout and a pint with the lads in the clubhouse afterwards would put his mind right after having nearly cocked it up in Devon.
He turned the key and the Jag started first time. He eased out of the drive and headed for Hampton Court and the river. He almost sang along to Radio Jackie as the popular tunes blared out of the car radio.
***
Ralph took the tube to Russell Square. He enjoyed running up the 175 steps of the spiral staircase rather than taking the lift to street level. It was a short walk to the British Museum. As he passed the University building where Katie worked, he thought about her and wondered how she was getting on in Edinburgh. The Museum entrance was crowded and it took a few moments to find Cynthia. She knew the place like the back of her hand.
“You remember Professor Chalmers.” Cynthia said after she knocked and then led him into Michelle Willows’ office. The tall strong featured woman stood up from behind the large desk that she dominated and shook his hand.
“Wedjat eye; the Egyptian charm for warding off evil spirits wasn’t it? If memory serves, it all ended with someone getting murdered and you helping to catch the killer, or that’s what I read in the newspapers,” she smiled at Ralph.
“Papers always tend to exaggerate,” he replied in a half-hearted attempt to change the subject.
“So are the Romano-British playing centre stage in your latest escapade?”
“No cloak and dagger stuff today,” Cynthia interjected. “As I said on the phone, Michelle, we saw an article in a local Devon newspaper about the Sherracombe Hoard.” She lost her train of thought as Michelle strode up and down on a line of thread bare carpet that was placed strategically in front of her desk. Ralph remembered that she had done exactly the same thing on the previous occasion when they were there.
“That’s Britain – Europe and Pre-history – they’ve taken all of the Roman and Celtic artefacts under their wing. I’ve arranged for Dr. Franks, he’s the curator of the Mildenhall and the Hoxne Treasures, to show you around.”
“That’s very kind,” Ralph said, “but will he have time to show us everything?”
“Goodness no,” Michelle, exclaimed. “The main collections are rotated. To exhibit everything at one time would be too much; and besides that, our researchers need
