“Lucky we discovered young Glynis speaks French. I thought I was going to have to use you.”
“My French isn’t so bad,” Evan said. “I seem to remember I made myself understood all right with the barmaids in the French pubs.”
“Oh well, you would, wouldn’t you—I’ve noticed you and the ladies! The Don Juan of Snowdonia—that’s what they call you.”
“Cut it out, Sarge. You know very well I do nothing to encourage them.”
“Then it must be that innocent boyish face—it makes them feel motherly.” He chuckled again. “I’ll see you down here in the morning then. I hope the French police are going to be helpful on this, although I’m not counting on it.”
First thing on Monday morning Evan delivered his information and fingerprints to P.C. Glynis Davies at the computer center. Her face lit up when she saw him.
“This is so exciting. This is my first homicide investigation!” She scanned the fingerprints, then took the sheet of paper and began typing the information into the computer. “You’re not officially in the plainclothes branch, are you?” she asked, looking up shyly at Evan. “But I hear you’re an absolute genius at solving murders.”
“I’ve just been lucky. I’ve been in the right place at the right time.” Evan felt himself flushing.
“It’s more than that. You’ve obviously got a flair for it. Not everyone has. You should apply for a transfer to the CID. I’ve just applied for one myself.”
“You have?”
“Yes, I know I’ve only just started, but I want to show them I’m keen to get on. Wouldn’t it be fun if we did the training course together?”
Evan was imagining Bronwen’s reaction to his taking a course with the gorgeous and gifted P.C. Davies.
“I think I’m quite happy where I am at the moment,” he said.
Glynis sighed. “And I don’t think the D.C.I. will approve my transfer either. I’m the only person who knows anything about computers so I suppose I’ll be stuck here until I can train someone to replace me.” She glanced at the screen. “Ah, good. At least we’ve got an acknowledgment from the French police. They will do their best to be of assistance to their English brothers. How nice.” She looked up at Evan again, this time with an angry frown on her face. “I just wish everyone didn’t think that Wales was part of England.”
“Are you from around here?” Evan asked. He hadn’t taken her for someone with strong Welsh sentiments.
“Oh yes. I was born in Llandudno. My father’s still a doctor there.”
“You don’t sound very Welsh.”
She grinned. “That’s because I was sent to boarding school in England. My Welsh is rather rusty, but I can still siarad cymraeg typyn butch. What I need is practice.”
He got her hint but pretended he didn’t. “Any news yet from the mental hospital?”
“No, and I don’t expect any for a while. It will take time to look through old visitors’ books and trace relatives, won’t it? And I’d imagine they’re all overworked at a place like that. I think our best hope is the police. If either person has a record, then at least we’ll know where to go from here.” She got up. Evan noticed she was tall, with long slender legs in sheer black stockings. Her uniform skirt must have been a centimeter or two above regulation. “I haven’t had any breakfast yet. I’m going for a cup of coffee.”
“In the cafeteria? You’re a brave woman.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Good heavens, no. There’s a little coffee shop within walking distance. They do a good cappuccino. Do you feel like joining me?”
A good cappuccino with Glynis was sorely tempting but Evan forced himself to say, “I’d like to, but I should be back in the village as soon as possible. I’m the only officer on duty up there.”
“Some other time, then,” Glynis said.
Evan nodded. He felt strangely unsettled as he drove back to Llanfair. Why should there be any harm in going for a cup of coffee with a pleasant colleague, he asked himself. Of course he knew the answer. He found her attractive. Did that indicate that he wasn’t ready to be tied to one woman yet?
Back in his office, he pushed Glynis Davies firmly from his mind and got down to work. The day dragged on. The only phone call was from Mrs. Powell-Jones complaining that the diesel fumes from the Parry Davies’s new van were polluting the atmosphere and would be detrimental to the rare Snowdon lily. She intended to report this to the National