Once back at the lab, they were met by Dr. Dodson. Simon explained that he'd stolen the professor away from his post at a local university. Now, he worked for Bringle Labs. Dr. Dodson was a jovial, heavy-set man in his fifties. He had a pleasant manner about him, which helped to relax Duncan.
"What can I do for you today, Mr. Dewar?" he asked with an enthusiastic smile.
"Well, I'd like to know if you can detect the presence of any aggressive chemicals on this," Duncan answered, pulling the rock from his pocket and handing it to Dr. Dodson. "Also, I need to know if there are any signs of manmade markings, like grooves chiseled in the stone. I'm interested in the side without the X."
"We can do that. I'll run an EDX in the microscope," he said, looking from Duncan to Angela.
"That's an energy dispersive x-ray spectroscopy, and it can detect the presence of substances like acids," Simon stated, shooting a goofy smile at Angela, who reciprocated.
"Anything like a chisel mark we'll be able to spot right away with the microscope," Dodson said, then added, "would you like to see the device?"
"Yes, we would," Duncan replied.
Simon whispered something to Dr. Dodson, then announced that he had work to do. But, he'd see them before they left the lab. It was a relief to have him out of the way. Angela and Duncan followed the doctor into a room that was painted a dull shade of blue. Dr. Dodson sat down in front of a large, upright tube or trunk, positioned on a counter. Large characters spelled Electram 200F on a plate running vertically along the apparatus. The tube looked to be at least 45 centimeters in diameter and about one and a half meters high. Several solid pipes protruded at slight angles from the beige trunk. Near the bottom of the device were the recognizable eye pieces every microscope has. Control boxes sat on the counter on each side of the microscope and a computer screen, keyboard, and mouse were placed to the side of the box on the right.
Dr. Dodson offered them chairs in front of the computer screen as he placed the stone on the specimen stage. He messed with the control boxes and looked through the eyepiece. Soon, an image appeared on the computer screen. It meant nothing to the pair, but Dr. Dodson explained that he was looking for evidence of acid on the stone. After several minutes, he pulled away from the microscope and used the mouse to click several menu options on the screen. Duncan heard a printer chirping away somewhere in the room.
Dr. Dodson turned several knobs on the control boxes and peered into the eye pieces once more. He moved the specimen tray slowly, in a circular motion, via the knobs. The picture zoomed in and out several times on the computer screen. He made more clicks with his mouse.
"That's it!" he announced, smiling broadly at them as he returned the rock sample to Duncan. "Just a moment and I'll have my reports for you," he added before scurrying around a partition and disappearing from sight.
"Well, that was painless anyway," Duncan said, placing the rock back in a plastic bag and dropping it in his pocket. "Sounds like we'll be out of here in no time."
Dr. Dodson returned a few minutes later with a short stack of paperwork. He sat next to Duncan and began explaining his findings.
"Here we have a photo of the surface of your rock. See those pits and the pithy looking texture across the entire sample? These are signs that some chemical, most likely an acid, was introduced onto the rock."
He flipped to another picture.
Pointing to a photo, he said, "We have a picture of grooves running across the stone." He turned a page and continued, "Here the computer has simulated a different view of the sample."
Duncan examined the picture. It was as if a camera photographed the rock from the side, at eye level, but magnified a hundred times. A silhouette of mountains and valleys became visible.
"These are man-made channels. The regularity of the changes in depth suggests a chisel produced these furrows," the doctor said, turning to the next page which showed a top down view of the sample.
The changes in depth within the ruts were noted in red by the computer. Dr. Dodson, beamed.
"I've summarized my findings on the next three pages and signed on the dotted line."
He shuffled through the remaining pages of the report and showed Duncan his conclusion, The sample shows signs of contact with a chemical substance, most likely acid. In addition, marks made by a chisel mar the surface of said sample.
They thanked the doctor. A receptionist appeared and walked them back to the lobby. While she had Duncan fill out paperwork for billing purposes, Simon appeared. He spoke quietly with Angela, then shook Duncan's hand, his grip as strong as ever.
"Say, Angela, I'm heading out myself now. Can I give you a lift anywhere?" he asked.
Duncan was about to say that they were heading back to the office together, but Angela cut him off.
"That would be nice, Simon. I wouldn't want to put you out, though. I can easily take the Tube home," she answered.
"It won't put me out at all. I'm sure I'm heading your direction anyway," Simon said with a grin.
Duncan watched as Angela climbed into the limousine and drove away with Simon Bringle, leaving him standing on the curb. Then he made the short walk to the Underground and headed home himself. He was beat and wanted to call Caroline.
He had just placed his briefcase on the dining table when his cellular rang. The phone played Beethoven's Fur Elise, the custom ring he'd chosen to denote Caroline's calls. In contrast, Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor warned him when his brother called. The Bach piece was one of his favorites, but it could also make the listener cringe a little, just like Angus.
"Hallo, Darling, how are you today?" he greeted Caroline.
"Everything's wonderful here," she said. "The temperature dropped and we saw some snowflakes today. Donald wanted me to tell you that Ben Lawers is covered in it. I stopped by the Blue Bell, but it wasn't the same without you there. Did you know that I used to get all jittery whenever I drove by the Inn, wondering if I'd catch a glimpse of you or if I should pop in to see if you were about?"
"No, Sweetheart, I'd never have guessed that. I thought you were indifferent to me."
He was pleased to learn he'd had that effect on Caroline.
"Anyway, I visited with Skye and Donald. They wanted to know when you'd be back and they sent their best wishes to you. By the way, how was your day?" she asked.
"Send my regards to the Merriwethers, please. I miss them. Of course, I miss you more, Caroline," he added. "I can't wait to see you again. Today was grueling. I had to deal with a real jack--," Duncan checked his language before continuing, "uh, a real pain in the hindquarters, thanks to my secretary. She hooked us up with a lab to analyze a piece of one of Castle Taye's merlons and the lab owner was a real character."
He moved into his living room and sat on the couch with a view of the park. It was dark, but he enjoyed viewing the lights and small illuminated areas visible from his flat.
"How did you get a piece of one of our merlons to London?" Caroline asked.
"Oh, I didn't lug a big chunk down here," he said, laughing. "Just something small I chipped from the base of the one that's missing. I took it when I was up on the battlement in the rain, before you startled me. A scientist looked at it with an electron microscope today," he explained before determining whether it was appropriate information to share.
There was a short pause, and then Caroline asked, "What did the scientist discover?"
Duncan opened his lips to tell her about the new evidence, but something stopped him. He wanted to share everything with Caroline, including the case which had brought them together. Yet, he knew he should not convey confidential information regarding the insurance claim to her.
Instead, he diplomatically said, "Let's not waste our time discussing business. What else did you get up to today? How are the dogs?"
Caroline loved conversing about her canines. She launched into a story about Mr. Lincoln making short order of a chair cushion in the tea room. At least she believed Mr. Lincoln was the cul
prit. Duncan suggested that it may have been General Washington. He had developed a soft spot for Mr. Lincoln ever since the dog helped warm him by the fire.
"I plan to be back in Scotland before the Christmas holiday. I want you to think about something, Caroline. Will you consider spending Christmas with my family and I in Edinburgh? We make a very nice time of it, and I'd put you up in a nearby hotel. I know your family is in America, and we'd love to include you in our celebrations."
He held his breath and waited for her response. He hoped it wasn't too soon to suggest sharing a holiday with family.
"Thank you, Duncan. I'll think about it. Are you sure your family wouldn't mind having a stranger join them?" she asked.
"They'd want you to join us, and I'd like you to get a chance to know them as well."
"Well, I'll seriously consider it, then," she said.
Signing off was not easy for Duncan. He never wanted to end a conversation with Caroline or part from her in any way. He wanted to tell her he had fallen in love with her, but not over the phone. He worried about scaring her off as well. It probably was too early to share all his feelings with her. Perhaps if everything went well over Christmas and the case got settled, he would tell her after Hogmanay.
He boiled water for the packet of instant soup he'd purchased on the way home from the lab. Duncan stopped at a market to buy provisions, just enough to tide him over until he returned to Scotland. His mum would be mortified if she knew how he ate in London. He drank the soup from a beaker, while in bed watching the telly. He set his alarm so he could enjoy another run in the morning. As he drifted off to sleep, he hoped Angela had made it home all right and out of the clutches of Simon Bringle.
Chapter 7 - Angela & a Money Chicken
His predictions were correct. Duncan's muscles were sore after yesterday's run. He knew the best thing for muscles aching from use was more exercise. He took the Outer Circle route around Regent's Park before the sun rose. Other runners were scarce because unlike yesterday, the sky looked threatening. Almost two kilometers from his flat, near the other side of the park, stood the Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street. The city of Westminster approved its address at 221b, although that wasn't the building's true street number. In the past, people attempted to find 221b Baker Street, as if Sherlock were really there. He often made a detour down Baker Street to pass by the museum before looping back to the Outer Circle and continuing his run.
Although he might never admit it, his flat's location near Baker Street was a major selling point for Duncan. The museum maintained Sherlock's first floor study in the Victorian splendor one would expect. It appeared as if Holmes had just stepped from his wallpapered apartments to research a case. Even his violin stood where he might have left it, propped against a piece of furniture. Sherlock's pipes sat at the ready for a good smoke, and scientific equipment of the era abounded on all horizontal surfaces. Duncan still found a visit to the museum a treat. However, he avoided the narrow stairway to the upper floors where mannequins depicted victims of the stories in a somewhat campy style.
He couldn't forget the adventures he had as a boy with his brother, pretending to be the famous detective. Angus insisted on playing Sherlock while relegating him to represent Mycroft, Holmes's older brother. It was only right, Angus insisted, since he was the eldest. Of course, Angus hadn't read any Arthur Conan Doyle, so he just winged being the famous detective. Duncan was constantly correcting him, explaining how Sherlock would handle a situation. Angus seemed determined to act more like a John Wayne cowboy than the brilliant British detective. Occasionally, Harold was brought in to play Watson, usually when their mum needed someone to supervise their younger brother. Harold made a lousy Watson.
Once, in America, Duncan had gotten into serious trouble during one of these charades. Angus convinced him the evidence they needed was located in a neighbor girl's chest of drawers. On a hot summer day, Duncan scrambled through Sylvia's open bedroom window. He was rifling through what turned out to be her underwear drawer when discovered by Sylvia's mother. There was no explaining that. Meanwhile, Angus had of course fled the scene, instead of keeping watch as he'd promised. The upshot was that later that night, Duncan received a rather hastily composed speech from his father, otherwise known as The Talk, in the States. It was a distasteful, embarrassing ordeal for twelve year old Duncan, who had managed to maintain, up to that point, far more innocence than his younger brother, Angus. Ten year old Angus was the one who needed The Talk! To this day, Angus still howled with laughter whenever the subject came up.
Duncan finished his run in good time and dressed for the workday. He wanted to get into the office early and rehearse what he planned to say to Angela, as well as work more on his fault tree. He planned to include the new evidence from Dr. Dodson in his analysis. He worked out some of the gates on his tree during the Tube ride to Liverpool Street Station. The Canon Street Station was closer to his building, but ugly, and he enjoyed the walk from Liverpool.
Exiting onto the street, he noticed the sky wasn't as threatening as it had been earlier. Hopefully, it would not rain. The old architecture melting into the new here always fascinated him. He walked the blocks to his building and rode the mega escalators up to a lobby. From there, he caught an express elevator to his floor. He put his belongings on his desk and made his own cup of tea. He remembered how Helen in the Edinburgh office had waited on him. In London, everyone got their own drinks.
He was just settling into his chair when he caught a glimpse of Angela exiting the elevator. She saw him and smiled, but headed for her cubicle. He hadn't expected her to be in so early this morning. He wanted, or rather needed, to speak with Angela about Simon Bringle. She was his employee, and he felt protective of her. She'd worked for him for several years now and he guessed he had a brotherly interest in her well being. Plus, he preferred that she maintain a certain level of professionalism on the job. He decided a setting away from the office would be the best place to pursue this touchy subject. He buzzed Angela on the office phone. She answered on the first ring.
"Angela, can you come by my office when you get a chance?" he asked.
"Yes, I'll be right over, Mr. Dewar," she responded.
He'd no sooner hung up than Angela materialized in his doorway, all smiles. It was unnerving to say the least.
"Uh… " Duncan fumbled for the right words. "How was your evening with Simon?" he blurted out.
That wasn't how he intended to start this conversation. Angela's smile changed ever so slightly and her gaze made Duncan uncomfortable. She seemed to be looking right through him before she answered.
"I had a lovely evening with him, thank you." She paused before asking, "Was there anything else, Mr. Dewar?"
The girl portrayed a picture of serenity, his office doorway acting as her frame, while he felt befuddled. Angela somehow had the upper hand, and he needed to regroup, get a new, safe approach. He wasn't sure why she had an advantage over him, but she did.
"I was thinking that we should go to lunch somewhere today. You've been working awfully hard in my absence, and I'd like to catch up on the details of what's been happening around here."
Angela raised her eyebrows slightly as if she required a further explanation.
Duncan continued, "Maybe you'll have an update by then regarding our forensic expert's progress and…"
"You mean Herbert Smith? He's the forensic man we use now," Angela interrupted.
"Yes, Herb Smith. I'd like to know where he's at with the photographs we forwarded to him. I want a meeting with him as soon as he has finished his analysis. Also, let me know how you're coming locating that professor…"
"The one from the University of Copenhagen?" Angela interrupted again.
"Yes, that's the one. How does lunch at Poulet d'Argent sound?" Duncan asked, hastily desiring to get off the subject of Angela's to-do list.
He became more uncomfortable by the second. Somehow, he felt as though he was on the hot seat. Hopefully, lunch
at the newest hot spot in the Square Mile would appease her.
"That would be wonderful, Mr. Dewar. Should I make the reservations?"
"Oh, no. Let me do that, Angela. The maître d' is an old friend of mine. He'll get us in, but we may have to go early," he said.
"All right. Just let me know what time I should be ready. I'll be at my desk, trying to locate your professor," Angela declared, the same peaceful smile on her face, before sauntering back to her desk.
Duncan breathed a sigh of relief when she disappeared from view. He'd always liked Angela but ever since he returned from Scotland, she'd seemed a different girl. He made a mental note to ask Angus if straightening a woman's hair would change her personality. Angus had more experience with women, and he just might know the answer.
He set the alarm on his watch for ten a.m., so he would remember to call Henri at Poulet d'Argent. Henri Leuntemp's younger brother was a former classmate of Duncan's. He'd spent quite a bit of time at the Leuntemp household tutoring his friend, John Leuntemp, years back. Henri never forgot it and had come through for Duncan many times with difficult to get dinner or lunch reservations. Henri had worked at two of London's hot spots before joining the staff at Poulet d'Argent last year.
Duncan flipped his computer on and opened his fault tree analysis program. He needed to find the right place to enter his new information. Someone had employed acid to weaken the merlon atop Castle Taye and broke at least a section off with a chisel. He entered these events in the tree and clicked on the button that ran the software, interface, and animation program. It would take a while to produce any results. His alarm went off and he phoned Henri, who obliged Duncan with dining reservations at noon. He sent an email to Angela letting her know when he'd be by to pick her up. Then, he set about summarizing the data he had so far.
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 7