Winter of Discontent by Jeanne M. Dams Read Free Book Online

these ones, wouldn’t it?”
    “Why?”
    “Take a look.” He pointed with my pen. “Here, near Rolling Prairie. What a name, incidentally.”
    “It’s nothing like as bad as some English ones,” I said indignantly. “What about Upper Piddle? Or Lower Slaughter? Or my very favorite, Oswaldtwistle Moor?”
    “You made that one up.”
    “I did not. I knew someone who knew someone who lived there. It’s in Lancashire; look it up for yourself”
    “At any rate,” said Alan, dismissing this frivolity, “your delightfully named Rolling Prairie is quite close to New Carlisle. That must have been settled by the English, wouldn’t you think? And here’s Rochester, and Richmond, and North Manchester … English place names, or versions of them, dotted all over the map, some of them quite near the villages Bill marked.”
    “You’re right.” I looked more closely. “And look here. There are others, too, Dublin and Edinburgh—and look! European ones! Alexandria, and Frankfort—that’s pretty much like Frankfurt—and Versailles. They pronounce it Vur-sales, by the way.”
    Alan winced.
    “Yes, I agree. But you’re right, it’s interesting. In fact, Alan, every single one of these places is very near a bigger town with a British name, or a European one. That simply can’t be a coincidence.”
    “What do you reckon it means? If anything?”
    I sat back, my momentary elation gone. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Are we back to honeymoon plans, after all?”
    “Seems rather convoluted, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes, and silly, as well. I think it’s time to get Jane back into the act. I want to know how she’s doing, anyway.”
    I phoned Jane and asked her over for lunch and consultation. She came in the back door as I was fixing sandwiches, and she looked awful. Again I wondered if she’d slept at all.
    “You haven’t heard anything?” I asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
    She shook her head.
    I wondered if I could get her to take one of my pills after lunch. She was going to be ill if she kept this up.
    I came straight to the point. “We’re going to have a bite to eat, and then I want to show you something curious about that atlas. Have a seat; we’ll eat in the kitchen.”
    She shook her head. “Show me now.”
    There is a time to insist on knowing what’s best for someone else, and a time to give way. I led Jane to the study, showed her the markings and the adjacent towns, and asked if Bill had said anything that might give a clue to their significance.
    She studied the pages for a long time before she shook her head. “Didn’t say anything to me. But might have, to young Tubbs. Let’s go.”
    This time I did insist on lunch, and made Jane eat something, too. When she had half a sandwich inside her, and had looked at her watch for the seventeenth time (I counted), I took pity.
    “All right. Off to the museum and Walter. You’ll let us know, Alan, if …”
    He nodded. “The moment I hear.”

SIX
     
     
     
    JANE AND I FOUND LITTLE TO SAY TO EACH OTHER AS WE trudged across the Cathedral Close. Speculation was futile, and we didn’t want to talk about our fears. I saw the dean coming out of one door of the Cathedral as we went in another. I was tempted to hail him, but I feared that his kind sympathy would shatter Jane’s fragile composure. She had let me see her cry once. That, for Jane, was a lifetime’s allotment. Let her maintain her dignity as long as she could.
    “Do you suppose they’ve searched this place?” I ventured to ask as we traversed the shadowy south aisle. “It’s full of nice medieval nooks and crannies.”
    “Bound to’ve. No reason he’d come here, anyway. Bill’s not religious.”
    “Mmm.” I wondered briefly how well that boded for their marriage. Jane is quiet about her beliefs, but they are important to her.
    I dismissed the thought. Just now other worries loomed larger on the horizon. I tried to shove another thought aside, as well. Even if Bill