Murder in the Queen's Armes (28 page)

"I appreciate it," Gideon said tersely, "but I don’t want any strings pulled for me. I can find my own jobs."

"Strings?" Abe repeated, appealing to Julie. "Who’s pulling strings? Boy, this guy has a temper!" He leaned agilely forward with more vigor than Gideon had at the moment, and clapped him gently on the knee. "What kind of strings? You’re not a good physical anthropologist? You wouldn’t be interested in teaching on the Olympic Peninsula? Is it my fault he’s interested in you? Why wouldn’t he be interested?"

Julie leaned over and put her hand on his other knee. "Gideon, it would solve all our problems. I could work at the Park Service in Port Angeles." She sounded breathless and softly excited. "There was a house I saw for sale, with a view of Hurricane Ridge on one side and Ediz Hook on the other…."

"And also," Abe said, "Port Angeles isn’t so far from Sequim. To me it doesn’t matter so much, but I know Bertha would like to see you sometimes…."

Gideon nodded. It must have been the grueling and extraordinary day that made him not quite trust himself to speak.

"You’ll fly up and talk to him?" Abe said.

Gideon nodded again. "I sure will." He rubbed his hand over his forehead and finally forced himself to stand, a surprisingly drawn-out process. "And, Abe, thank you."

"Perfectly all right." Abe was beaming. "My pleasure."

"And what will happen to Nate?" Julie asked Abe. "Will Horizon reinstate him?"

"Oh, I think so, at least if I have anything to say about it. To finish up the Bronze Age excavations anyway. Nathan’s a good boy at heart, and I think he learned a good lesson here. As for Frawley, the
shtunk,
we’ll let Nathan figure out what he wants to do about him."

With Julie, Gideon had made his painful way to the door before he turned around. "And the Second Interglacial stratum, what about that? There could be a hell of a Middle Pleistocene site here, Abe, and it ought to be dug too."

"Absolutely. I was thinking of organizing an exploratory dig for the foundation next summer—for a couple months, maybe—and bringing in some first-rate prehistoric archaeologists: Hernandez, Passarelli, Ingraham….And of course I might lend a hand myself. It would be a nice place to spend the summer."

It certainly would, Gideon thought with ungrudging envy. "That’s great, Abe; you’ll be right back in the thick of things."

"I certainly will. The only thing I’m missing is a grade-A physical anthropologist." He reached for a pickle slice on his plate and popped it into his mouth. "Listen, Gideon, I was thinking…"