The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [38]
“Thank you,” I said to his back. “In all but one of the places where the red soil is found, the map shows an outcropping of rock. Two of those correspond both with—Are you at all interested in this, Holmes?” He did not look up from his book but waved his hand in a gesture I took to mean “continue,” so I did. “There are only two places where we find a combination of red soil, recent road work, and em-ployees of the Tun. One is north two miles on the Heathfield road, and the other is west, down near the river.” I waited for a response, re-ceived none, and went to the telephone. Apparently I was to be in charge of this investigation, although, I suspected, with a hawk-eyed critic at my shoulder. As I waited to be connected it occurred to me that I had not heard the taxi leave and indeed, when I glanced out the window, there it was in the drive, the man behind the wheel settled back with a book. I was briefly annoyed at Holmes, not so much be-cause of his easy anticipation of our needs as because I had not thought to have the automobile wait.
The exchange connected me with the Monk’s Tun.
“Mrs. Whiteneck? Mary Russell here. Has the inspector arrived yet? He did? Oh, did he? PC Rogers must have been disappointed. Yes. Still, you have your kitchen back. Look, Mrs. Whiteneck, could you tell me which of your employees are at the inn today, and the hours they’ll be working? Yes. Yes. Fine, thanks, then. Yes, I’ll be in touch.” I rang off.
“Inspector Mitchell came, took a look, gave PC Rogers a dressing-down for wasting his time, and left,” I said to the room at large, re-ceived back the response I expected, which was none, and sat looking at the list of names. They included Jenny Wharton, a maid at the inn who lived on the north road and worked today until eight o’clock, and Tony Sylvester, a new barkeep, who would be away from his home near the river until well after seven.
Now what?
I could not very well arrive at their respective houses and search them in their absence. Were I to stumble innocently across the cache of stolen goods, though, that might be a different matter. However, I could scarcely claim that I just happened to see the box under a bed up in the first-storey bedroom or smell the ham in—Wait now, smelling four hams, that might be... What if...?
“Holmes, do you suppose—Oh, never mind.” I took down the tele-phone again and asked for another number. Holmes turned a page in his book.
“Mrs. Barker, good morning. This is Mary Russell. How are you? And your husband? Good, I’m glad. Yes, we were quite fortunate, weren’t we? I say, Mrs. Barker, of your dogs, do you have one that’s good at tracking? Yes, you know, following a scent. You do? Would you mind lending him to me for a little while? No, no, I’ll come up and get him. He’ll ride in an automobile, won’t he? Good, I’ll be there in a bit, then. Thank you.”
I put up the receiver. “Holmes, do you mind if I use the car that is waiting so obviously in the drive?”
“But of course,” he said, and put his book back on the shelf.
We rode to the inn, where I borrowed a clean tea towel and rubbed it into one of the remaining hams, then went back up the road to the Barkers’ house. The ravening hordes descended on the car, causing the driver to swerve and curse under his breath as the dogs leapt and bit at the wheels and carried on as if they were about to eat us alive, tyres and all. I opened the door into their midst, and when I stepped out the entire pack went instantly silent and began to study the sky and sniff at the tussocks of grass growing along the drive, and to drift away un-obtrusively. Mrs. Barker came out with a collar and lead in her hand, looked surprised at the tame mob, and went over to a bush to retrieve a very sorry-looking specimen with long ears, patchy fur, and an un-dercarriage that brushed the ground. She led him back to us and handed me the lead.
“This is Justinian,” she said, and added, “They’re all named after emperors.”
“I see. Well, we shall have the emperor in before nightfall, I expect.