Free Murder in the Queen's Armes by Aaron Elkins Page B

with his shoulder.
    "You didn’t
really
ask them, did you?"
    "You asked me to."
    "Gideon!"
    He laughed and squeezed her. "Of course not, dopey."
    "Well, it’s just that I really don’t know you that well yet. I don’t know when you’re joking and when you’re serious. Are you ever going to put me down?"
    "I don’t know. You feel awfully good." He hefted her up to kiss her, and the lush, warm curve of her hip rode up against him. His knee jostled accidently against a low table on which sat an electric teapot and flowered china cups and saucers. The saucers rattled. "What would you say," he said, "if I told you that what I’d like most in the world right now was a nice, hot piece of tea? Oops."
    They both laughed, and she said, "I’d say you weren’t serious."
    He carried her to the bed, put her gently down, and knelt at the bedside to run his fingers down her soft throat to the smooth hollow at its base. "I have seen many a handsome fossa jugularis in my day, but yours is by far the sweetest and sexiest." He bent to kiss the fragrant flesh and moved back to look at her face. "Julie, I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone this much."
    "I know that." She lay quietly looking up at him, her hand lightly against his cheek.
    Gently, Gideon undid the top button of her blouse. Julie watched his face, her black eyes enormous.
    The telephone rang.
    "No," Gideon said, "it wouldn’t dare."
    It rang again. Loudly. It gave the unmistakable impression that it would go on ringing until it was answered.
    Gideon grimaced, dipped his face quickly to kiss her, and tramped glumly to the phone.
    The voice on the other end of the line was a stranger’s; hearty, aggravatingly jovial under the circumstances, and very English.
    "Professor Oliver? Wilson Merrill here. Dr. Merrill. Coroner’s pathologist, Dorset Constabulary. I’d heard you were in Charmouth, and I know you’re on holiday and all, but, well, I wondered if you’d be interested in coming by the mortuary here in Bridport and looking at a body. We’d be most grateful."
    The humor of the situation was not lost on Gideon. "You’d like me to look at a body?" he asked, his eyes on Julie, who now knelt on the bed, her hands clasped demurely in her lap.
    "Yes, rather. It was found this morning on the shore near Seaton. I’ve done all I can with it, but I thought, inasmuch as you were nearby, that it might engage your interest. I’ve read about your work, of course, and it would be a pleasure to meet you."
    "Uh, you’d like me to look at it now? Tonight?"
    "Well, yes, unless it isn’t convenient." The voice hesitated. "It
is
only nine-fifteen, isn’t it? Yes, of course it is. The remains are being shipped to the forensic science laboratories in London tomorrow, and I simply thought you might want to have a go at them while they were still here. But if it can’t be managed…"
    "What do you have?"
    "Adult male. Greatly advanced state of decomposition, but the skeleton’s whole. Husky fellow; Caucasian, I think."
    Gideon hesitated, then looked at Julie again. He shook his head firmly. "I’m afraid it’s out of the question this evening, Dr. Merrill. I’m sorry, I’d like to have helped."
    "What about tomorrow morning?"
    "Well, yes, I think I could do that…"
    "I’ll be there for you at eight o’clock. Earlier if you like."
    "No, eight’s fine. See you then."
    "Righto. Thanks so much. I can’t wait to see you in action."
    Gideon put the telephone down and looked up to see Julie getting off the bed.
    "Hey," he said, moving to her, "where do you think you’re going?"
    "Well, I thought you weren’t interested anymore. Your mind’s on other things."
    "Why would you think that?" he asked, smiling. But he
was
thinking about other things. About Randall Alexander: adult male, husky, Caucasian. And missing from Stonebarrow Fell for two weeks.
    "Why would I think that?" She laughed and gently poked him in the abdomen with a finger. "Because you’ve been standing