Evan and Elle - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,12
man. How far can he lug that, eh? Unless he drove up here?”
“He didn’t do that,” Evan said. Potter looked up sharply. “I was on the mountain myself only a short while before. I’d have seen a vehicle.”
“Well, ask your questions anyway.” Potter snapped his fingers for the dog, and presumably also Evan, to follow him. “I’d do it myself but I haven’t got the hang of the bloody lingo yet. They’re making me take classes, if you’ve ever heard anything so ridiculous! Apparently it’s required these days.”
Evan smiled to himself as he imagined some poor person trying to teach Peter Potter Welsh.
“Ah well, I suppose you might need to communicate with the natives someday,” Evan said. “Sign language doesn’t always work, does it?”
“Too much bloody nationalism if you ask me,” Potter said. “It only leads to trouble—like this stupid gesture.” He pointed at the cottage. “With any luck some group will come forward and claim responsibility and we’ll have our work done for us.” He started down the track again. “Come on, don’t just stand there,” he called to Evan.
Evan was suddenly feeling more sympathy for the Welsh nationalists (as well as for Champ the wonder dog).
Chapter 6
Although he felt it would be a wasted effort, Evan dutifully did the rounds and got statements from the villagers. He also compiled a list of all the locals who were in the Red Dragon. Nobody had seen anything unusual before the fire. Nobody even remembered seeing a stranger in the village, nor a strange car. In addition, as Roberts-the-Pump pointed out, all the local farmers, plus at least half the young men owned motorbikes and were always buying cans of petrol. The other half had lawn mowers, weed whackers, or needed cans of paraffin for their oil stoves.
Evan was just preparing a report with which even Sergeant Potter couldn’t find fault when the door of the police station burst open and yet another stranger came in.
Evan opened his mouth to say “Can I help you?” but before he could get the words out the man demanded, “Are you the officer on duty here? Where’s the person in charge?”
“Yes, and you’re looking at him,” Evan said, attempting a friendly smile. “I’m the officer stationed here. This is only a sub police station.”
“See, I knew it would be bloody useless,” the man said to a woman who had entered the room behind him. Evan recognized her. He had seen her in the village street on a couple of occasions.
“You’re the couple from the cottage, aren’t you?” Evan got to his feet. “I’m very sorry—”
“Yes, but have you caught the bastards yet?”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, sir. We’ve launched an investigation.”
“I bet you have.” The remark was dripping with sarcasm. “I bet you’re all doing your private little victory dance because you got us out of here. They warned me when I said I was buying a cottage in Wales. They won’t make you welcome there—that’s what they said. I told them I didn’t give a damn whether I was welcome or not. But I never thought it would come to this!”
“Savages, that’s what they are,” the woman added. Venom distorted a perfectly made-up face. “Nothing more than hooligans and savages. Too bad they outlawed corporal punishment. A good caning with the birch—that’s what they deserve.”
“We’ve had an arson expert on the scene, madam . . .”
“And what are you doing about it, Constable? It doesn’t look as if we’re exactly high priority here.” The woman glared at him. “Why aren’t you out there looking for the criminals?”
“As a matter of fact, madam, I . . . ” Evan began but the man thumped his fist on Evan’s desk and leaned forward to glare into Evan’s face. “I want action, Constable! Get off your backside and find them! That’s what I pay my taxes for.”
He headed for the door. “We’ll be going to see your superiors to lodge an official complaint. Then maybe we’ll see some action!”
They stormed out. Evan heard the Jaguar rev up and drive away. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d had just about all he could take for one day. He locked the station and walked up the village street. Children were running past with satchels bouncing up and down on their backs. One of the boys called out to him, “Hello, Constable Evans? Sut wyt ti? Have we got rugby practice tomorrow night?”
Evan answered and watched them run past, carefree now that school was