BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) JANE ADAMS (fox in socks read aloud TXT) 📖

no shaft fitted into the socket, but the socket itself was decorated with a twisting, writhing pattern that shone dully in the strong sunlight, which poured through the cabin windows. It was evidently very old, though the metal didn’t seem rusted or decayed. More inlay embroidered the neck, where the end of the haft would have been fitted and, as Rozlyn moved to look more closely and the reflected light shifted across the surface, a pattern emerged, faint but clearly there. It looked for all the world like watered silk. Watered silk, now heavily stained with darkened blood.

She looked sharply at Reece, her expression asking all the questions for her.

“Your experts have confirmed that’s blood,” Reece said. “The object itself is indeed a spearhead and it’s either a fantastic replica or it’s at a guess ninth, tenth century.”

“You’re kidding me?”

Reece shook his head. The suppressed excitement caused his short, slight body to tremble. “I’ve never seen anything more perfect. If it is a replica, then whoever made it is a craftsman. A true artist.”

“Do you think it is a replica?”

“I can think, offhand, of three people in the country capable of it, so it shouldn’t take much checking, but no. I know their work. This . . . this is something else.”

“It didn’t come from here? From the dig, I mean. Isn’t this supposed to be a ninth-century site?”

Reece laughed. “Your constable asked the same question, Inspector, so we showed him this.” He gestured at one of his assistants who produced a large plastic box and laid it on the table. Inside was a lump of what looked to Rozlyn like rusted metal and dark red clay studded with the odd stone.

“This is the state in which metal comes out of the ground. It’s probably a knife. Too short for a sword and, even in Christian burial, we do sometimes find knives. Believe me, Inspector, if I found something like this in a dig, I’d be dancing naked in the streets of Stamford.”

Rozlyn studied both finds again. “I’ve seen stuff in museums,” she said. “I mean, recognisable swords and the like. So, how do you get from that lump of crud, to something like this?”

“This ‘lump of crud’ will go to be cleaned and conserved and probably end up in storage somewhere. It will be recognisable as a knife, by the time our experts have done with it, but it won’t look anything like this. This spear was buried in what must have been ideal conditions. If it was buried at all, and frankly, I have my doubts. Grave sites have been found in which metals have been discovered in an amazing state of preservation, but this . . . this is so rare, so unusual . . . and it didn’t come from here. That, regretfully, I can attest and affirm.”

Rozlyn looked at the photographs ranged on the cabin wall, frowning as she took this all in. Aw, come on! She thought. This was just too crazy for words. A Dark Age spear used to kill Charlie Higgins was bad enough, but for him then to be dumped on a dig site contemporaneous with the murder weapon. That was all too much.

“We’re sure this is the murder weapon?” she asked Patel.

“The post-mortem will confirm it, ma’am, but there doesn’t seem to be any doubt. The victim was killed by a single stab wound, it’d be a bit much to find two bloody weapons on site. We’d have to find ourselves another body.”

A ripple of laughter greeted Patel’s comments and Rozlyn allowed herself a wry smile. Patel was enjoying himself, she thought. An appreciative audience and the knowledge that, not only had he done a good job, but he’d unearthed a bloody good mystery into the bargain.

“You’d better show me the site,” Rozlyn said. Everyone around her moved and Rozlyn got the impression they intended to follow. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather you all stayed put.” She saw the disappointment on Reece’s face and relented slightly. “Apart from Doctor Reece, of course. You could, maybe, give me an insight into the lay of the land. And PC Patel, naturally. You can talk me through how the spearhead was discovered.”

Reece nodded enthusiastically and the others subsided with a collective sigh of disappointment. Odd, Rozlyn thought, now that the body was safely out of the way and they could detach themselves slightly from the fact that a man’s life was ended, this event was transformed into a bit of excitement that no doubt they’d be dining out on for months to come.

* * *

Almost dancing at her side in a mood of puppylike excitement, Reece led them around the perimeter of the dig. Despite his exuberance he was as careful of preserving his domain as Rozlyn would have been in guarding the integrity of a crime scene. He pointed out the areas of greatest interest as they passed.

“The main house would have been there. It’s an unusual structure, stone foundations and walls, we think to about two feet in height, then wattle and daub and also some planking. Thatched roof, presumably. We’ve found a number of post holes and the remains of two hearths.”

“Two?” Something leapt in Rozlyn’s memory, but she could not place the reference. “Isn’t that unusual?”

“It is, yes. Generally, there’d have been a central hearth used for heating and cooking, but this one seems to have had a doorway at the midpoint of the long wall, there, look. Hearths at either end. Stone built, too, not a scraping in the ground lined with rock. Whoever owned this place knew what they wanted and went for it.”

Rozlyn nodded slowly, her gaze drawn back towards the bank above the stream. “Anything up there?” She asked.

“I don’t know. We did a general survey, but our time is so limited. We’ve got to push on here, find out as much as we can before