“One thing you should learn about me is that I have an excellent recovery time.”
“Oh, you’re going to need it.”
Detective Sergeant Frank Phillips was dreaming of a feisty Irish princess with long, red hair. He stormed the castle, fought off the shadowy figures surrounding it and rescued her from a fate worse than death, for which she was very grateful …
Just as things were becoming interesting, he was rudely awakened by a sharp spray of cold water.
Detective Inspector Denise MacKenzie stood above him and for a pleasant moment he imagined her wearing the flowing dress of his dream. Like a baby, he held his arms out to her and smiled toothily.
Denise tried hard not to laugh. There was a half-naked, middle-aged man sprawled in her bathtub. He looked like death and smelled even worse. Her fingers itched to turn on the shower spray again.
“Frank,” she snapped. “What the hell are you doing in the bathtub?”
“Gimme a kiss.”
She watched him pucker up, chuckling to himself.
“Frank Phillips, I’m warning you. I’m not a woman to be putting up with drunken layabouts.”
“But, you’re Irish,” he said innocently.
Denise flicked the shower spray to the coldest setting.
Fortune decreed that the Control Room of the Northumbria Police Constabulary dispatched DCI Ryan and DS Phillips to the remote part of Hadrian’s Wall known as Sycamore Gap. The discovery of unidentified human remains qualified as a police matter, unless they were classified as being ‘of antiquity’. That meant that somebody with the requisite authority needed to haul their sorry arse out of bed and take a look. Since the other detectives of the Criminal Investigation Department were busy looking into the usual rounds of manslaughter and GBH following drunken brawls over the weekend, it fell upon Ryan and Phillips to disregard their allocated day off-duty and take a drive into the hills. Most likely, the remains were ancient and he could happily pass them over to an archaeologist for inspection, Ryan thought.
The drive out west of the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne was scenic. Centuries earlier, men had laid the track for a long, straight road in that direction and although it was now tarmacked, it still followed the same course. The ‘Military Road’ as it had come to be known took Ryan along a route parallel to Hadrian’s Wall, past reservoirs and rolling green fields populated by fluffy, well-fed sheep. When he saw the brown sign marked ‘Housesteads Roman Fort’, he slowed for the turn.
His attention was immediately drawn by two distinct facts: first, an inordinately large number of vehicles were crammed into the visitor’s car park. Roman history wasn’t that popular at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning. Second, his sergeant seemed to be wearing fancy dress.
Slamming out of the car, he naturally gave priority to his most pressing concern.
“Phillips? What in God’s name are you wearing?”
Catching sight of the new arrival, Frank raised a cup of take-away coffee in greeting. “Morning, boss.”
Ryan appropriated the coffee.
“You look like the back end of a bus.” It was always a comfort to know that there was someone out there who felt worse than him.
Phillips scowled.
“You were the one who suggested that we go and celebrate.”
“Not my fault that you can’t hold your liquor.”
“Can’t …?” Phillips was momentarily lost for words. “It wasn’t me who nearly fell flat on his face, boyo.”
“The pavement was uneven.” Grinning, Ryan eyed the floor. “Speaking of all things ridiculous, I repeat, what have you got on your feet?”
Phillips pointed one of his toes, dainty as a ballerina.
“These? They’re my old walking boots. Got a bit of a hike ahead of us and you know me – always come prepared.”
“You look like you’ve stumbled out of the circus. Besides, we’re not scaling Kilimanjaro.”
“We’ll see who’s laughing once you’ve walked up that hill in your City-boy shoes.”
“Uh huh.” Ryan took a thorough look around him. “Did I miss something? Why the cavalry?”
“It’s the body,” Phillips replied. “Older than your usual DB but apparently it still looks fairly recent. Could go either way. Besides that, the skeleton’s been stuffed inside the wall.”
“Inside?”
“Aye, that’s the long and short of it. Some bloke found the body as he was having a morning stroll.”
“What? He just happened to burrow inside the wall right where a body had been buried?” Ryan was incredulous. “How long is the damn wall? A hundred miles?”