Murder in the Queen's Armes by Aaron Elkins Read Free Book Online Page B

laughed. What anthropologist could say no to that? Besides, it might give him a final chance to help Nate, to keep him from doing anything more foolish than he’d already done. "Well," he said, "when you put it that way…"
    Nate laughed and reached forward to shake hands. As he did so, a cool draft from behind Gideon rustled the papers on the table.
    "Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in conference."
    Nate looked up over Gideon’s shoulder. "No problem, Randy, come on in. Gid, this is Randy Alexander, number-one contender for the world’s perennial-student title."
    Laughing offhandedly, a big, coarsely good-looking man carrying a paper sack came in. He was about thirty-five, only a few years younger than Nate and Gideon, with longish, curling brown hair, a casual, loose-jointed gait, and an air about him of indolent, somewhat studied dissipation.
    "Hiya, Prof. I think I heard of you."
    It was certainly his day for public acclaim, Gideon thought, but even this dubious tribute, the second in an hour, was quickly retracted.
    "Or," Randy said, "maybe I just heard Dr. Marcus talk about you being an old friend."
    "My oldest," Nate said. "Gideon and I were chugalugging watered-down beer in the UW Rathaus fifteen years ago."
    "No kidding." Randy went to a metal cabinet near the coffee paraphernalia and, whistling softly, began taking things from the sack and putting them on shelves.
    "Did you get everything?" Frawley asked him.
    "Yup. Coffee, notepads, mallet, chisels, string, the whole schmear."
    "Well," Gideon said, rising. "I guess I’ll walk on down now."
    Randy turned with surprising speed. "I’ll let you through the gate."
    "Hey, Gid… ?" Nate said.
    Gideon waited.
    "I’m glad to hear you got married again." He smiled— the old smile Gideon remembered, shy and quick, and unexpectedly elfin in that intense, lean face. "You’re the kind of guy who needs to be married, you know that? Congratulations and best of luck. What’s her name?"
    "Thanks very much, Nate. Her name is Julie." Gideon was moved; a glimmer of the old Nate had peeked through. "Nate, are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take a sort of confidential look—"
    "No way, pal. Trust me. See you on the twenty-ninth."
    Outside, the thick fog had moved in. The ocean, the coastline and the surrounding hills were all invisible, and on the fell everything was indistinct and gloomy.
    Randy conversed with mumbling indifference as they walked past the other three students, in the pit, but as soon as he and Gideon were shielded by a small, grassy rise he stopped. "Could I talk to you, Dr. Oliver?"
    "Sure."
    "It’s about this Mycenaean thing. Look, if I tell you something pretty wild, will you promise to keep my name out of it?"
    "No, I won’t, Randy. If you want to tell me something, go ahead. But no strings."
    Randy’s sleepy eyelids lifted. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. "It’s really serious. I mean, I think you should know."
    "I think you’re talking to the wrong man. You probably know a lot more about the Bronze Age than I do."
    "But this whole Mycenaean thing, it’s all screwed up—"
    "Randy, have you talked to Nate? His bark’s a lot worse—"
    Randy laughed. "Oh, sure, talk to Marcus about it. You don’t know how funny that is."
    "Frawley, then?"
    He shook his head impatiently. "He wouldn’t do anything about it. It’s crazy….Dr. Oliver, I know you can do something about it before anyone gets into real trouble…. I don’t know, I just feel like I can trust you, you know?"
    Gideon felt the same sort of ambivalence he’d had in the flower-child days when someone you’d never seen before would walk up to you with a smile, thrust a daisy into your hand, and energetically tell you to have a good day. Was Randy being as honest as he was trying to appear, or was this a put-on for his own amusement? Still, the gray eyes, on a level with Gideon’s own, were imploring, waiting for a signal to continue. It seemed to Gideon he had been dancing