Free The Other Crowd by Alex Archer Page B

which much resembled a hobbit’s cottage on the outside, was a virtual museum of oddities and geegaws. Pack rat, indeed.
    “Daniel tells me you already own the spear of Lugh?” Annja tossed that out there. She was in a fine mood. Visiting and shooting the breeze had made her forget all about Beth’s return to camp. Okay, not forgotten, but she realized there was no sense worrying about her. She was safe and Annja intended to visit her tomorrow.
    Rachel Collins clasped her hands before her face. Crepethin skin did not conceal the faint blue veins beneath, nor did the twinkle in her eye master her bright green irises. “I’ve had the spear for decades. Come see.”
    Daniel stayed behind in the kitchen, drying the supper dishes. Mrs. Collins had served up a feast of raspberry lamb chops, basil-seasoned small potatoes and two different kinds of homemade bread rolls. The shortbread cookies for dessert must had been bathed in butter. They’d slid down Annja’s throat like a dream.
    So maybe family was all it was cracked up to be. If she’d had a mother to cook like that for her every night, Annja might be twenty pounds heavier and less of a world traveler.
    Led down the hallway that was narrower for the shelving from floor to ceiling, Annja noted the more interesting trinkets. A blue plastic, poseable Aquaman figure, minus one hand. A copy of a Fabergé egg, only thumb-size and very likely decorated with rhinestones. A few fist-size clods of dirt. Maybe they were imagined meteorites. She spotted what looked like an alicorn, twisted bone and all—as if unicorns existed. A perfect yellow rose was amazingly preserved in a bowl of clear marbles. It wasn’t silk, either; Annja touched it gently to be sure.
    They entered a small living room and Annja felt her vision go crossed from the utter cacophony of stuff. Everywhere things hung on the walls, inhabited the corners, dangled from the ceiling. There was a television, which she wouldn’t have immediately picked out were the sound not on and had the flash of a toothpaste model’s teeth not caught her eye. Yet another chord to the cacophony of whimsy.
    “An amazing collection,” she said, then managed to save herself from tripping over a small fluffy thing that could be a real dog, though the way it was sprawled on the white bearskin rug, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a large black stain. “Where did you get all this stuff, Mrs. Collins?”
    “Oh, I’ve been a collector since I was a wee lass. Always picking up bits and bobs wherever I go. I never spend much on any single piece. Most people give me things, or I find them. The digs are great places to walk after-hours. All kinds of interesting baubles to be found there.”
    Things a legitimate archaeologist, and the country of Ireland, would consider stolen.
    Annja winced. She crossed her fingers there were no real artifacts in here. She wasn’t sure how she’d react, much as Rachel was the sweetest little old lady she had ever met. And man, did she make a mean shortbread.
    “Here it is.” Rachel turned and displayed a small spear upon both hands. It was two feet long, made of wood and decorated with faded red paint that had obviously been stripped by sun and age. The head looked bronze for the green patina that tipped the base where it was fitted into the shaft. “The spear of Lugh.”
    She presented her find so grandly Annja found herself nodding in acceptance as the woman handed it to her. It was aged, but not centuries old. Certainly not an artifact. She wondered if the woman would be offended if she saw Annja search for the Made in China marking.
    “Interesting.” Annja tilted it in one hand.
    “Oh, no, dear, mustn’t attempt to hold it as if you intended to throw it toward your prey.”
    Annja smirked at the woman’s real fear. Okay, then. She’d have to get Eric to film a segment with Rachel talking about the other crowd. If anyone believed, it had to be this woman.
    “I understand the legend says