“I hope Marian hasn’t fallen in love with someone who’d set out to commit murder. I just hope that if he was involved, then it was an accident.”
“You know that’s not how it works, Katie. Whether he intended it or not, if he drugged someone and they died as a consequence, he’s still responsible.”
“You make it sound as though you’ve given up, Ralph. That’s not like you.”
“I’m just telling you how the police and the law will see it. And I haven’t given up, as you put it. I’ll go over to Brayford as planned and see if I can find out if anyone knows something they haven’t told the police. But there’s nothing we can do tonight, so let’s make some coffee and see what Lance and Cynthia want to do tomorrow.”
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Chapter 4
The Lamb Hotel at Hartland prided itself on focusing on their guests. That included a flexible approach to when breakfast could be taken. Lance was not an early riser. Some mornings they had eaten their ‘Full English’ breakfast at around 10. That meant that by the time they drove over to Clovelly it was almost lunchtime. Ralph stuck to his usual regime; he was out on his six mile run by 7. After his shower, he and Katie had their breakfast and then usually either they read or tidied up the garden. Some mornings Ralph tinkered with the Morgan that he had presented to Katie as a gift when they had first moved down to Devon. But it was an old car with many miles on the clock, and Ralph could always find things that needed fixing. He had looked for a garage in the area with a good mechanic, but so far he had drawn a blank; tractors and combine harvesters, yes, but around Clovelly, a vintage Morgan only brought a grin and a lot of hand-rubbing on oily rags.
“No disrespect, sir, but it’s more’ve a toy than a car. I’m afraid not much call for that sort of work around here. You might better try Taunton or Exeter. Them big places gives you more chance. Might be someone there could do it for you. Would cost a bit, mind.”
Well-intentioned but not a great deal of help, Ralph had concluded. He was reconciled to working on it when he had a free morning and Katie did not want it to get to the riding stables. That morning Ralph had just finished the morning’s tune-up when Cynthia and Lance arrived.
“Good morning,” Katie said as she came outside to greet their friends. “I’ve just put the coffee on, if anyone want some while we decide what to do. It’s a lovely day.”
“Marvelous,” Cynthia agreed. “We slept in, I’m afraid. It’s so quiet here compared to London. What’s on the agenda, Ralph?”
Ralph wiped the grease from his hands. “Not much. I’ve just been having a go at the Morgan. Whatever suits everyone else is fine with me.”
“She’s a beauty,” Lance said as he walked over to look inside the red sportster.
“While you three decide our itinerary, I’ll just catch a few pixels out here,” Cynthia said as she picked up the local paper from the side table and stretched out on the sun lounger in the garden.
“Do you need any sun block, Cynthia?” Lance asked her before he turned his attention back to the car.
“Stop fussing, Lance. I’m fine. It’s not really that hot,” Cynthia said as she applied a small dose to her nose and forehead.
Ralph had got used to Cynthia’s penchant for skimpy attire when she was away from her job as curator at Dorich House. It was, after all, a secluded garden, he figured, and they were practically family.
“There’s an article here about that dig you mentioned the other day, Katie. These local papers are fascinating,” Cynthia called over to her friend.
Ralph knew the editor of the Bideford Weekly. Their paths had crossed when the four of them had gone to the Barnstable police when they had exposed a smuggling syndicate a few summers back. Bob Wyman, the editor, had turned out to be a good friend.
As they drank their coffee and enjoyed the spring sunshine, Cynthia continued to study the article.
“This is interesting. I heard something from a friend of mine who was involved in doing some conservation work on the Roman gold and silver they found at that site at Sherracombe. The guy who wrote this is good, but I expect he’s made a few enemies with the local dignitaries.”
“What do you mean, Cindy?” Lance asked. “I can’t imagine he’d make any enemies around here.”
“He’s writing about some body that Tony Robinson and his TV crew found when they were down here filming. Now I think of it, there was something in The Times about that a while back. I just hadn’t connected it with Devon.”
“So, why’d that make him any enemies?” Lance asked. “It’s his job to report the news, and I expect that a body getting found out there is pretty big news around here.”
“Maybe. Anyhow, he’s suggesting that the body must have been there just after those two men with metal detectors announced their find to the local authorities. It goes on to say that the police should have kept a closer eye on the place once the treasure was declared to be worth a million or thereabouts. He says that a lot of people with detector machines must have been sneaking in to find any gold or silver that they’d missed. He says that he thinks the bloke could have been killed in a fight.”
“So I reckon the police aren’t that happy, you know, suggesting they were asleep on the job,” Lance said.
“I can understand that,” Ralph said. “As I recall, they don’t have that much of a police
