“I suppose you don’t get as many questions as I do about your ancestry. Inevitably, I’m asked is there Irish blood in my family.”
“Is there?” she asked.
“I don’t know. My grandmother on my father’s side had red hair. They died when I was young. I never followed that lineage.”
“You see red hair and immediately suspect Irish?” she smiled at him.
“Sure. Why?”
“I’m Scottish. Scottish on both my mother and father’s side.”
“Red hair is common?”
“About the same percentage of people in Scotland have red hair as Ireland, ten to twenty percent. It’s only one to two percent in other countries. You may be Scottish.”
“Well, Whatever the percentages, I think you’re one in a million.”
“That’s sweet. Compliments like that could get you to Gretna Green.”
“That’s where you said you were born, right?”
“You listened,” she said with surprise. “I was born in Gretna. Gretna Green is just a stones throw away. Do you know about Gretna Green?”
“No.”
“It’s on the Anglo-Scottish border, the southwest corner. About two hours from here. In times past, Scotland had less restrictive laws of marriage than in England. The English would cross the border to be married there. It has a tradition. Nowadays, almost one in every six marriages in Scotland takes place there.”
“I’ll have to visit there one day.”
“Is that a proposal, Dr. Archer?”
“What?” Chad laughed. He added, “When I propose you’ll know it.”
“When, not if?” Sandy said coyly.
“You’re messing with me, Sandy.”
“I’m a copper. I ask questions.”
“I thought this was a date not an interrogation,” Chad feigned anger.
“Is that what this is? A date?” Sandy poked Chad in his ribs.
“There you go again. Where are we going?” Chad tried to change the subject.
“Nice deflection, there, Chad. We’re going to a chip shop on the lower end of the Shambles.”
“What’s the Shambles?”
“It’s a very narrow street, dates back centuries. A Shambles is an outdoor butcher market. There used to be more than fifty butchers along the street. In the 1800s. None there now.”
“I think I ran up it today and yesterday.”
“You run?”
“Try to run every day.”
“How far?”
“Ten miles.”
“That would cover most of York.”
“Seemed like it did,” Chad said.
Sandy pointed out the historical points of the Shambles as they walked it. The centuries-old meat hooks were still in place on the overhangs outside the shops. They held various articles for sale, none of them pigs, chickens, or deer.
They reached Sandy’s chip shop.
“M-m-m-m, good. Sure you don’t want some?” she asked, gingerly picking at the hot thick battered fish.
“I’ll try the fries,” Chad said reaching for one.
“Chips,” she corrected him.
“Chips,” he said.
Sitting on a bench overlooking the river, Sandy commented on the weather. “It will be a clear night.”
“It seems it’s always cloudy, when I’ve been in England.” Chad added to the weather report.
“It’s sunny only a third of the time. I saw a comparison to your Seattle, Washington, which is supposed to be the least sunny city in America. Seattle has over two thousand hours of sunshine in a year. We only have just over a thousand in York. We found the complaints of the Americans to be funny.”
“You have a point. Have you been to America?”
“Not, yet. Let’s walk. This river, the River Foss is one of two that run through York. The other is bigger, the River Ouse. Romans settled this area in 70 AD. The rivers were the prime reason. We are two thousand years old.”
“Impressive.”
“You’re just saying that. As an archeologist you’ve seen older.”
“Maybe. But you’re preserved better.” Chad said, while he looked her up down.
She punched his arm.
“I was referring to the city, not you.”
“Uh huh.”
They followed the river and came to York Castle.
“Cool castle,” Chad commented
“The Romans used York. It wasn’t named that yet. It was their base as they tried to conquer Scotland. They didn’t succeed. But York became the capital of this region of Britannia. Eight hundred years later, the Danish Vikings conquered the area and called the area Jórvík. That’s where the name York eventually comes from. They used the river system here to get to southern England and then across the channel into Europe and its rivers. This castle, we call Clifford’s Tower, was built in 1068, after the Norman Conquest.”
Sandy led them north along the River Ouse.
“Over the next thousand years, York was chartered as a trade center, very important to England. Later it was a major railroad hub and manufacturing center for candy. There you are. Two thousand years of history in forty-five minutes. The point is that York has been a quiet leader and important geographical location for twenty centuries. It’s not flashy like London or Cambridge. Nor, Edinburgh in Scotland.”
“Thanks. It’s all so clear now.”
She punched him again.
“You’re going to have to switch sides, Sandy. Or this arm will be no good to me tomorrow.”
“Boo hoo. Your arm seems strong enough to take it. What else do you do besides run?”
“I’ve recently begun rock climbing. Just a few years. Mostly inside. Did some beginner’s stuff in Yosemite.”
“Good. I’ve a big rock, actually a stone to show you. Oh, and our name York has been at different times Yark, Yerk and Yourke with a u and a silent e. So, there isn’t a true nickname for our citizens. Some call us Yorkies, but that’s a dog. Yorker sounds too much like porker. We prefer the People of York.”
“Yark? I like that. How about Yarkers?
“You really invite these punches, Archer.”
“Speaking of names, is Sandy short for Sandra?”
“Close. Saundra.”
“Pretty. How did Saundra get to be a copper?”
“Family history, partly. We have several generations of police service. My uncle. His father before him and so on. My own father was in government service. I grew up listening to stories of crime, law, and the justice process. So, I took a degree in Applied Social Science – Crime and Criminal Justice at the University of York.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“It is, but it’s descriptive. I didn’t know if I wanted to go into law or some other area. I thought I’d try police work. I applied and became a bobby. I walked the beat and drove a patrol car here in my home city. I thought I’d do that a few years and then try law. I found I liked the police work and was good at it. After a couple years, I was encouraged to try for detective. I made it. I stayed in York and was promoted two years ago from Detective Constable to Detective Sergeant.”
“Sounds like a fast track.”
“It was. We have a shortage of police all over the UK. Being in a minority class helped as well.”
“Red heads?”
“What? Oh. You idiot. A woman.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Good. Ready for Gretna Green?”
“Not yet, but the night is young. Where does your career go from here?”
“I want to go to London. Work for the Met. That’s the name for the Metropolitan Police Service, you know it as Scotland Yard. I want to be assigned to a squad that helps out across all of England. Hopefully that will be a promotion to Detective Inspector. Eventually, I guess I see a DCI, Detective Chief Inspector in my future.”
“Isn’t Scotland Yard a national police force, like the FBI in America?”
“No. Most people think that. Each region of the U
K is responsible for its own police force. Scotland Yard has jurisdiction just in London and there is even a central section that they don’t police. It’s covered by the City of London Police. A square mile area. Interesting, isn’t it. We have many things in the U.K. that are traditional.”
“When you were a constable did you wear one of those tall pointy hats? You must look seven feet tall in one of those.”
“No. And they are called helmets. Women wear a bowler style. I’m intimidating enough at my height and with my mean look.”
“Let’s see the mean look,” Chad prompted.
Sandy narrowed her eyes and frowned. Chad laughed and stepped away avoiding another punch.
“If the police are bobbies, are you a bobbette?”
“There’s a mean side of you emerging here, Archer. I get this treatment from my brothers. I expected more from you, as a semi-educated man.”
“What do you mean semi-educated? I have a doctorate.” He was indignant. Feigning it. Knowing what was coming.
“That’s not a real doctor is it? Like if I collapsed right here, you wouldn’t know what to do to revive me, would you.”
“Maybe not, but I’m sure it would involve mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” He made a point of rapidly raising and lowering his eyebrows several times.
“Now you’re getting creepy,” she scolded him. “Here is what I wanted to show you.”
They stopped in front of a tall stone column. It was over thirty feet high.
“I saw this on my runs, but I didn’t stop to read the plaque.” He approached it with Sandy and read it.
“Awesome,” he said. “This was from a fortress the Romans built in the fourth century. This is seventeen to eighteen hundred years old.”
He appreciated the antiquity with both a tourist’s eye and an archeologist’s view. She was pleased that he liked it.
Across the street was the York Minster, a stunning cathedral.
“Tell me about this. It’s beautiful and big. I ran around it the other day.”
“The cathedral we see today was built starting in the year 1220. It took two hundred forty years to finish it, including replacing a collapsed tower. The largest tower is two hundred thirty feet high. There were other churches on this site before this was built. It’s a special location.”
“I wish there was time to visit inside,” Chad moaned. “On the side of the cathedral is a smaller round building. What is that? A residence?”
“It’s called the Chapter House. It’s for meetings, particularly the cathedral chapter, the clerics that advise the bishop.”
After another fifteen minutes of studying the cathedral, Chad commented, “I’ll have to come back to see more of this cathedral.”
“You’ll come back because of the cathedral?” she asked with a light punch this time.
“And of course, you. I just meant that if my visit was for professional reasons. You know.”
“When you’re in a hole Archer, quit digging. Maybe that’s a downfall of the archeologist. My mother told me to avoid them. Now I know why.”
“Hah. Hah,” he feigned. “Let’s get the beer I promised you.”
Chad actually led the way this time.
As they walked up a short incline, the sidewalk curving to their left, he commented, “The cars slow down on this approach, don’t they?”
Sandy remained quiet, knowing the city and deducing where they were headed.
Chad stopped. The sign over the door read Crossed Arms Pub.
Chapter 25
Archer sensed the cold silence walking next to him into the warm and noisy public house.
“Beer?” he asked.
“Make it a whiskey,” she said. “The good stuff, from Scotland.”
Chad approached the bar, Sandy right beside him.
“You’re back?” Mary said.
“Hi, Mary. Yeah, I’m back. Two whiskies. From Scotland,” he added.
He took the drinks and turned to Sandy, handing one to her.
“Back?” she asked.
“Yeah, let’s sit.” He led her to a table and bench, the same one he was told that Henry occupied.
“I owe you an explanation,” he started. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Chad, m’lad. I didn’t expect to see you again. Wait, my Maggie’s here. Let me get her.”
“Sure, Sean.” Chad said and gave Sandy a weak shrug.
Sean returned with Maggie.
“Maggie, luv, this is the American I told you about. Dr. Chad Archer.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Sandy, this is Sean and Maggie. Sandy Moffat.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said. “You two are old friends?”
“We tipped a few pints last night,” Sean beamed. “Say, Chad, did you talk to those narrow-minded, dimwitted inspectors about what you learned?”
“Uh, Sean, this is Detective Sergeant Moffat,” Chad answered.
“I stepped in it now, lassie, didn’t I?” Sean asked looking at Sandy and receiving a false smile back.
“Detective, please excuse my husband. He has a habit of opening his mouth and sticking his foot in.”
“No worries. It’s not the worst that I have heard.”
Maggie dragged Sean back to the corner. Chad and Sandy heard him complaining to Maggie, “How can she be a copper? She’s so pretty. It’s not right. She should have to wear a badge or something.”
“I like your friends,” Sandy stated flatly.
“It’s not like that. I didn’t say that about you. And it was wrong of me to ask you out to talk about a case. That wasn’t the only reason I called.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Dr. Archer – archeologist, professor, and investigative consultant to Interpol.”
“You checked me out?”
“You’re offended? You’re surprised? I am a detective. After the questions you had for the DCI, I expected you were trying to find some reason for Dr. Clark’s death. Chad, I understand. I’ve seen many reactions to many losses. It’s natural to deny. It’s natural to want some reason other than a rainy night, left-hand driving, and alcohol. Talk to me.”
Chad sipped his whiskey. Was she right? Was it just that simple? He couldn’t accept an accident? He decided he’d share anyway.
“Okay. Here goes. And, thanks, Sandy, for hearing me out. In your investigation, you learned how many drinks he ordered or were ordered for him.”
“Let me correct one thing before you go on. I was not the investigator.”
“The DCI was?”
“No. A detective constable handled it. It was an accident. The DCI spoke with you because Dr. Clark was not a British citizen, so as courtesy to another country, he handled the initial communications. Then when Mrs. Stuart came, I was asked to step in, I think because I am a woman.”
“Okay. Okay. So maybe he or she, the detective constable missed something. Here is what I know. Dr. Clark came in after eleven. Over the course of the first thirty minutes he ordered two whiskeys. And, he ordered one beer. Possibly, for a man in a suit that came in just after Henry and ordered his own first beer.”
Chad saw Sandy’s reaction to the man in a suit. That was news to her. And a man in a suit in a pub that late was an oddity, one the detective constable should have learned about.
“There is a premise Henry drank several beers, three to be exact, over the next hour. People sitting near him fetched the drinks for him. Then someone walked him out. The regulars here do not know that someone, but he came back in and said Henry refused his help. Then bam, Henry was hit by a car. His head hit a parked car and he died.”
“That’s the basic facts,” Sandy agreed.
“Here are more facts. Henry uses a cane. He came in with it and then left it here. I’ve never seen Henry drink beer. Your CCTV mysteriously acted up that evening. Has it had problems before or afterward? The streetlight was out. Earlier that night it was shot out. It takes more than a BB gun to break a lamp.”
He waited.
&
nbsp; “What do you want me to do?”
“Explain all that away and who the mysterious man in the suit was.”
“Chad, what do you know about guns?”
“Not much.”
“An air rifle could break the lamp. Its muzzle velocity is a speed that doesn’t flutter light-weight ammo. And though illegal, it even might have been a heavier grain. It seems like vandalism.”
“Two other lights were shot out that night to look like vandalism. It could have been a ruse to disguise a deliberate act here. It was raining that night. Who vandalizes in the rain? And three times?”
“As you say it was raining. The camera system could have been affected by the rain. It has happened. And I can’t speak to Dr. Clark’s preferences in drinks. We have good beers here. He was being courteous, maybe to locals. He buys. They buy. He forgets his cane.”
Silence hung between them.
“The driver?” Chad asked. “Everyone seems to slow down on that curve. Eight out of ten cars. I watched for an hour today. What speed would create the accident in the manner we were told?”
Sandy responded, “The woman just left work. It’s late. Few cars on the road. She was the one in five who did not slow down. What’s your theory, Chad? He was led to inebriation and then killed deliberately.”
He had to admit. Saying it out loud sounded less suspicious and more like he was searching.
“Chad, you know it takes motive, means, and opportunity. What was the motive?”
Archer slowly shook his head back and forth, “I don’t know.”
“The man in the suit?” Sandy asked.
“I guess. Maybe. I need to see Dr. Clark’s journals. You guys have them. He had them with him in here or they were in his room when you searched it. Who were the men he supposedly had more beers with? Who helped him out? What if he were drugged? We should have his blood checked. At least that will confirm the alcohol level.”
A long awkward moment passed between them.
Sandy broke it, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll ask for a blood sample to be checked.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I appreciate it.” He finished his whiskey. She did, too.
“Do you have some doubts, now?” he asked her.
“Not really, but you have a reputation for instinct.”
Moffat's Secret Page 9