Authors: Gigi Pandian
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Amateur Sleuths, #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #International Mystery & Crime, #mystery and suspense, #mystery books, #new adult romance, #mystery novels, #traditional mystery, #humorous mystery, #Mystery and Thrillers, #Humor, #british mysteries, #Amateur Sleuth, #english mysteries, #cozy mystery, #chick lit, #Mystery, #Cozy, #treasure hunt, #murder mystery, #mystery series, #international mystery, #murder mysteries, #Historical mystery, #female sleuth, #New Adult, #action and adventure
When that door to the pub swung open, I knew who I was looking at. Tan work boots, worn khaki trousers, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. And the finishing touch: a fedora. The man who stepped through the doorway was wearing enough dust and sweat to be a hands-on archaeologist, but not enough to make him unapproachable. He must have been at least fifty years old, but his broad chest indicated he wasn’t one to delegate physical labor.
He took off the hat as he entered the pub, revealing flaxen hair sprinkled with white. I knew I should have been frightened, or at least on guard, with what he might have done. Instead, I was impressed.
“Drinks all around, Douglas,” Professor Malcolm Alpin said with an English, rather than Scottish, accent. “We’ve made a discovery today.”
“Right, gov,” Mr. Black said, and got to work pouring drinks.
Knox was right behind the dig’s leader. He was slightly rounder around the middle than I remembered. Otherwise he seemed to be the same affable Knox. He and Rupert could have passed for brothers except for the fact that their accents didn’t match. Both shorter than average with brown hair and blue-gray eyes, their striking difference was that Knox had working-class roots.
He stopped right inside the door when he saw me. “
Jaya
?”
Behind Knox was someone I wasn’t expecting. His girlfriend, Fiona. An archaeology graduate student, she must have been there for the dig as well. And Rupert hadn’t told me. My jaw tightened. He knew Fiona and I didn’t get along, and he hadn’t wanted to deal with my reaction. She blamed me for encouraging Knox and Rupert’s scholarly shortcuts, and was convinced I was the one who suggested Knox plagiarize a section of his dissertation. I hadn’t known what Knox intended to do. But even if I had, I could never have stopped either Knox or Rupert from doing anything.
Fiona came to an abrupt stop beside Knox. I heard her sharp intake of breath as she saw me. In tan slacks and a matching fitted sweater, she looked as if she had stepped out of an upscale clothing catalog rather than out of a hole in the ground.
Fiona’s hair is as black as mine. That’s where our similarities end. She keeps her hair long and flowing, compared to my practical bob. The look fits with her ethereal eyes, which are a translucent shade of the palest blue imaginable. Curves follow her tall frame from head to foot. If ever someone looked like an attempted murderess….
I’m just saying.
“What are you doing here?” Fiona asked. It was not a friendly question.
“Jaya!” Knox said again, his shock having worn off. This time his greeting was accompanied by a bear hug. “What are you doing here?” His voice was curious rather than hostile.
“Hi, Knox,” I said into his shirt. “Rupert didn’t tell me why, but he invited me.”
“Did you hear?” Knox asked, pulling back from the hug but leaving his hands on my shoulders. His forehead creased in a pained expression.
“Douglas Black told us,” I said. “We must have already been on our way. It’s such a shock.”
The unfamiliar man at the rear of the group cleared his throat. He stepped around Knox, shooting him a dirty look. He carried two bags, one slung over each shoulder. His body sagged under their weight.
“Looks like we need some introductions,” the professor said. He extended his hand to me. “I’m Malcolm Alpin. Please call me Malcolm.”
“Jaya Jones,” I said, returning his firm handshake. “This is my boyfriend, Lane Peters.”
“I see you know Knox and Fiona. And this is Derwin McVicar.”
The younger man’s shoulders weren’t actually sagging. Derwin was the tallest man in the room; he had been slouching to avoid hitting his head on the door.
In spite of his height, Derwin couldn’t be described as a large man. Beneath the thin fabric of the sleeves of his work shirt, knobby elbows and skeletal forearms were apparent. He gave a curt nod to me and then to Lane.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Fiona said to Lane, extending her hand toward him.
Knox scratched the back of his head as Fiona gave Lane a long handshake accompanied by a broad smile.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Malcolm said. “You must think us frightfully rude to be celebrating so soon after his recent accident.”
“Not at all,” I said. “You hardly knew him.”
“He was a good man,” Malcolm said. “A great help to us. We could not have made the discovery today without him.”
From the way Knox, Fiona, and Derwin stared at Malcolm, he was speaking well of the supposedly dead.
“I’m going to freshen up,” Fiona said, slipping away with a glance back at Lane.
“Are we going to go over our notes?” Derwin asked.
“We’ll catch up on them tomorrow,” Malcolm said, his eyes following Fiona. “Tonight is a much needed celebration.”
Knox took one of the pints Mr. Black had set on the bar.
“You said Rupert asked you to come,” Malcolm said, turning back to me. “Are you archaeologists interested in the Picts?”
“As I said, I’m not sure why Rupert asked me—”
“Jaya is being modest,” Lane cut in. “She’s become a great photographer, and we thought he probably wanted her to document this important dig. I did my undergraduate degree in archaeology, and it’s something I take seriously. I thought I might be able to help out as well.”
I tried not to glare at Lane. It was difficult.
“Brilliant,” Malcolm said, slapping Derwin’s back. “Not five minutes ago I was saying how helpful that would be to have a photographer.”
“Mmm.” Derwin nodded, his thin lips pressed together in an attempt at a smile.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I should put these bags away if we’re not going to follow procedure and write up our notes.”
“We haven’t got a proper photographer,” Malcolm said as Derwin slogged up the stairs with the heavy bags. “After what we’ve uncovered today, it would be brilliant to have one.”
“We’re happy to stay and help,” I said. “But I didn’t bring—”
Lane kicked my shin.
“Sorry, honey,” he said. “I slipped.” He turned back to Malcolm. “What have you found?”
“An inscribed Pictish stone that has been hidden for centuries,” Malcolm said as he led Lane to the large table. I rubbed my newly bruised shin.
I made my way to the bar and grabbed the Scotch whisky Mr. Black had poured me. This one lacked the flavorful rose-colored flecks, but had its own aromatic punch.
Knox sat down on a stool at the edge of the bar. I took my drink and sat down next to him.
His stomach bulged over the top of his jeans more than looked comfortable.
“You look good,” he said. A sad smile lingered on his face. “It’s good to see you again. Wish it was under other circumstances.”
“I think I’m in denial.”
“Rupert didn’t tell me he’d rung you up.”
“I don’t know why he got in touch. He said it was a surprise.” I should have rehearsed. It was one thing to make up a fictional story while it was a hypothetical exercise. Lying to an old friend was quite another.
“I thought it was an immature attempt to get me back,” I said, “which is why I took him up on it.” I pointed over at Lane. “My new boyfriend. Taller, richer. I wanted to rub it in Rupert’s nose. I figured Rupert’s invitation would give me a chance to surprise him with my successful life. I feel so bad, now that he’s....”
Knox sighed and nodded. He rested his dusty elbows on the bar and took a drink of his beer.
“The sad bastard,” Knox said. “Such a daft thing to have happened.”
“I guess it shouldn’t matter to me anymore,” I said, “but it does. Even though I hadn’t seen him in ages.”
The words were true. When I looked past my anger, which admittedly required digging deep, something was there. I wished I knew what. But I didn’t travel halfway across the world to sort out my confused feelings for an old boyfriend. I was here to find out who had tried to kill him and was now after me and the ruby treasure.
“What happened?” I asked.
“No idea. I never thought of him as a reckless driver, but I guess you never really know what’s going on with someone.”
“I didn’t even know Rupert was studying the Picts,” I said, watching for Knox’s reaction.
Knox squinted at me. “It’s a gig,” he said. “Basic pay for the summer. Not too bad.”
In spite of being caught plagiarizing, Knox wasn’t stupid. He had grand ideas that inspired Rupert and won Fiona as a girlfriend, and he’d gained admission to a good university. I suspected he had simply given up at some point after meeting the even more talented Fiona and Rupert. He couldn’t keep up with them. By the time I met Knox, he had already stopped trying.
“Fiona has a grant for the dig,” Knox said. “She arranged for us to come up.”
He took another long drink of his beer. I inhaled the scent wafting out from behind the bar. I was too hungry to concentrate. I hoped Mrs. Black was making something tasty and filling. Now that I knew Rupert was alive and I wanted to kill him myself, it wasn’t nearly as easy to focus.
“You and Fiona,” I said, “you’re back together?”
“What? Well, you know how it is.”
“Not really.”
Knox chugged some more beer. “We’re young, have to go see the world ‘n all.”
He licked a drop of beer off the rim of his glass. Knox was a puppy dog. Cuddly and with an eye for adventure, but never able to get anywhere without someone there to take care of him.
Douglas Black set down another pint in front of Knox, from which Knox immediately took a long swig. It wasn’t hard to see how he’d gotten into his present shape.
An eruption of laughter echoed from the table behind us. Derwin and Fiona had returned and joined Malcolm and Lane. The fire crackled in the background. Fergus and Angus had their heads together over their table. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me or Knox.
“I didn’t know you were still doing archaeological work,” I said.
“Rupert didn’t tell you?”
“We didn’t keep in touch.”
“No? I thought you two were still tight, from how he talked about you.”
“But he didn’t tell you why he invited me here?”
“Why would he tell me? I was only supposed to be his best mate.” Knox shrugged, his head sagging. “I’m doing as much as I can. I worked at an auction house in London for a while. Appraising is more lucrative than lecturing, you know. It wasn’t such a bad lot that I couldn’t lecture like Rupert. You’re teaching at a university in Los Angeles?”
“San Francisco.”
“San Francisco. Never been to California myself, you know. Fi and I might go on holiday there when we can. You like it there?”
“Never a dull moment.” I thought about nosy Nadia, my nearly-harmless stalker Miles, and Sanjay, who I really needed to call again before he contacted British authorities.
“We had some right fun that year you were here,” Knox said, bringing his hands to watery eyes. “Bloody sad bastard.”
I must have had a sentimental bone somewhere in my body, because I found myself about to confide in Knox. Not a good idea.
“What’s this big discovery here?” I asked.
He gave a start, but then recovered.
“Oh, today, you mean,” he said.
He wasn’t holding up his end of the secret very well. I needed to talk with him away from the others.
“We found one of the stones Professor Alpin was on about,” he said. “Another stone was found nearby. The professor guessed there’d be a cluster.”
“New Pictish standing stones,” I said. “That’s a big deal, isn’t it?”
Knox leaned toward me. His eyes were red.
“The old prof would be thrilled to fill you in,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll tell you whatever I told you was wrong, anyway.”
“I don’t really care about the stones, you know. I was just asking to be—”
“I know, I know,” Knox said warily. “Since when are you one for pleasantries, Jaya? This has been a bloody awful week. I don’t want to think about Rupert or anything else anymore. Can’t you leave me to drink my pint in peace?”