Constable Evans 02: Evan Help Us by Rhys Bowen Read Free Book Online Page B

was just about to settle himself when he glanced over the parapet to the rushing stream below. There was something moving in the water that glinted in the sunlight. It was cream-colored and shiny, moving gracefully among the reeds. At first Evans-the-Post thought that it was a new flower he’d never seen before. Some kind of water lily maybe. He decided to try and pick it. The policeman would know what it was, or the schoolteacher, if he wasn’t too shy to ask her.
    He left his mailbag beside the bridge and clambered down the steep bank. Holding onto one of the alder trees that grew there, he leaned out into the stream and reached for the flower. After a couple of attempts he grabbed it. His smile of triumph faded when he lifted it out and saw what it was. It wasn’t a flower at all. It was a square of shiny, cream-colored fabric, silk maybe.
    It was an odd thing to find in the river, knowing that there were just sheep pastures above it. Nobody could have dropped it from the bridge, that was clear, or it would have been swept downstream. Even Evans-the-Post could figure that out. He stared upstream to see where it might have come from. That was when he saw what at first he thought was an odd-shaped boulder with water splashing over it.
    *   *   *
    Evan opened his eyes to sunlight painting a bright stripe across the flowery wallpaper. Mrs. Williams must have forgotten to waken him. He was about to leap out of bed when he realized it was Saturday. He lay back with a sigh of contentment. Nothing on the agenda for the whole day. He would read the paper while eating a leisurely breakfast, and then he’d do some climbing. It was weeks since a free day and a fine day had coincided and he felt like a challenging climb, maybe on the cliffs below Glaslyn. He hadn’t liked to go there since those two men fell to their deaths. But it was stupid to stay away from some of the best climbs in the area.
    He got out of bed and a thought struck him—maybe Bronwen would be free today and might feel like going for a hike with him. They’d talked about hiking on the Llwyn Peninsula, where there was great birdwatching on deserted beaches.
    He leaned on the window sill, an anticipatory smile on his face as he looked at the clear blue sky. Such days didn’t happen often in North Wales, so you had to drop everything and make the most of them. He could smell bacon and sausage frying downstairs and the radio blaring out the usual Saturday morning music that Mrs. Williams liked—pop music from the fifties and sixties, Tommy Steele, Cliff Richard, and the Beatles.
    The village street was slowly coming to life. Owens-the-Sheep went by on his motorbike, his black-and-white border collies running at his heels. Farmers never had a day off, did they? The milk van was halfway up the street and Evan heard the familiar chink of milk bottles. Evans-the-Milk didn’t get many days off either. A couple of little boys ran up the hill dressed in their football uniforms. That reminded Evan that he did have a commitment—he’d more or less promised the boys that he’d go and watch their big game down in Beddgelert.
    Never mind, the game would be over by noon and he’d still have half a day to do what he wanted … and Bronwen would definitely be at the game too. A good way to find out what her plans were.
    He was about to turn away from the window when he saw an extraordinary sight. Evans-the-Post was running up from the bridge, his long limbs flying out, his head lolling from side to side as he ran, his mailbag dancing beside him, envelopes clutched in his hand.
    Evan opened his window and leaned out. “Where’s the fire, Evans-the-Post?” he called.
    The mailman stopped, looking up at him with his mouth open. “It’s no fire, man,” he stammered. “There’s something in the river, something you have to come and see right now!”
    *   *   *
    “Not again!” Detective Sergeant Watkins from the regional police headquarters in Caernarfon