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) 📖

“Presently, no.”

“Presently? Are there plans then?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Albert told her. Rozlyn waited for more, knowing that Albert had just caught himself saying the wrong thing.

“Maybe I should ask your boss?” She sensed Albert wince.

“It has been discussed,” he admitted reluctantly. “As you reminded us, there have been robberies in the area.”

“Have there?” Rozlyn mused. “Oh yes. I did say that, didn’t I?” she could almost feel the waves of irritation and dislike rolling from the older man. She glanced around again, noting the Egyptian antiquities. Shabti, she recognised, and seal stones and faience jewellery. Roman mosaic and pottery too, were familiar, recalling their cousins seen on museum trips with her mother and grandfather. From the number of cabinets dedicated to it, it was clear that Anglo Saxon was Richards’ period of choice. In a small display by the window was a selection of jewellery. Amber and glass beads, laid out to give the impression of being strung and a pair of cruciform brooches, one set on either side. There were rings, too and small fragments of enamel work placed carefully in position on a slab of rusted metal that Rozlyn presumed must be a sword.

She felt Albert shift as though suddenly uncomfortable. A small movement, but enough for Rozlyn to be aware of. Rozlyn looked more closely at the exhibits.

“What else was in here, Albert?”

“What else? I’m sure I . . .”

“You really shouldn’t put dark colours near the window. Light fades them, you know.” Rozlyn pointed to where a disk of richer blue showed the pattern of something that had been there for some time, but which was now missing.

“Oh.” Albert told her. “That’s gone for restoration. Conservation.”

“Oh, really? What was it before it was sent away?”

“A brooch,” Albert sounded dismissive. “Just a brooch.”

Rozlyn left soon after that, Albert’s impatience showing to the extent that Rozlyn wondered if he’d be calling on reinforcements should Rozlyn not shift. She discovered one more interesting thing though. On leaving she asked. “Anyone coming out of there, would they have to go down via the main stairs? I’ve heard there are servants’ stairs in a house this size.”

“There are two flights, yes. One each end of the house.”

“Care to show me?”

Albert sighed elaborately, but Rozlyn got the impression that he was almost pleased. That servants’ stairs were exactly what he felt Rozlyn should be using. He led her along the main corridor and through a small door at the end, then down the back stairs and into the scullery. “You go out through the kitchen,” he told Rozlyn, pointing to a door that stood open and led out onto a green space beyond. “I’m sure you can find your own way. You’ll have to walk back round to your car.”

“Will do. It’s been nice meeting you, Albert. This is a magnificent place.”

“Quite,” Albert returned. He stood at the foot of the stairs. Watching. The three members of staff in the kitchen glanced curiously at Rozlyn.

“Something smells good,” Rozlyn commented as she wandered through, suddenly aware that she’d not eaten since very early that morning. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Albert look at his watch. But she’d be back. Rozlyn knew beyond doubt that she’d be coming back. She left through the kitchen door and ascended three steps into a courtyard. Tall shrubs in massive pots screened the kitchen entrance and it was this that had given her the initial impression of there being a green space outside. A stable block extended on the right-hand side back from the house and a further wing that Rozlyn guessed might be servant’s quarters bounded the other. The fourth was open, leading back into woods. Glancing up, Rozlyn glimpsed Albert watching from a first-floor window. Rozlyn waved and smiled. “See you later, Albert.”

Ethan Merill, she thought, may well have been on to something when he’d directed Rozlyn here.

* * *

She’d driven from the house to the dig site, not quite sure what drew her back there, but feeling the compulsion nonetheless. She approached the site from the field crossing as she had done on that first day. The bullocks were no longer there — she spied them in an adjacent field and the previous dryish days had allowed the worst of the mud to set. She didn’t exactly cross the field unscathed but arrived at the other side without a second trip to the dry cleaners becoming necessary.

Once she had reached the escarpment, she looked down onto the site laid out below. She had far more of a feel for the layout now and could imagine the hall and the barn and the other buildings that made up the steading. She saw it busy with people, smoke rising from the chimneys and the golden sunlight gleaming on the stream.

She moved across to the point where she fancied she had seen that elusive watchtower and scrubbed about in the long grass with the toes of her shoes looking for sign of it. Of course, she thought, there would be nothing. The wooden structure long gone. She knew now, from conversation with the diggers, that any wooden structure would possibly leave dark staining in the ground from the post holes and framing, but that wouldn’t be visible on the surface. There would be nothing obvious to see.

She wished she’d had the foresight to pack a picnic. When was the last time she’d been on a picnic? Probably, she thought, it had been with her grandfather when he had come to live here for a while with Rozlyn. She had grown up not a dozen miles from the dig site and it seemed odd now, that so much history had been going on and Rozlyn unaware of it. Grandad had enjoyed picnics, loved the countryside and the little villages and the fishing