Mr. Bradley took a deep breath and shifted the tools on his shoulder. “You get used to him,” he repeated, and hurried away.
Brisbee turned from the departing procession and back to us, his mouth opening and closing “What just—?” he managed at last.
“You backed the wrong horse,” said Horner. “I told you you should’ve signed the site over to me.”
The farmer looked as if he might cry.
“Well,” I said, “nobody is bleeding or pressing charges—at least not yet—so I suppose that actually went better than I might have hoped. I noticed that you didn’t throw rocks at anybody, Mr. Horner. I do appreciate your restraint.”
“Least I could do, beautiful.” Horner gave a halfhearted wink, and then looked back up at the foothills moodily. “But the day is still young.”
Brisbee brewed a pot of bitter American coffee, and we watched from the back porch of the farmhouse as a wide canvas wall gradually rose to shroud the entire dig site. From a distance, all that was visible of our evening’s hard work were a few piles of loose sod around the perimeter.
“I wish I hadn’t sent that telegram yesterday,” the farmer said glumly, taking a swig of the black brew. “Seems a shame to have that nice reporter come out all this way for nothing. Won’t be much of a story for her to report now that Lamb’s sealed everything up.”
Horner was nursing his own mug, glaring moodily at the dirt. I knew how he felt. Brisbee took notice and looked more wretched still. “I’m sorry it turned out like this for you, Mr. Horner. You did so much good work. Will you be leaving right away?”
Horner breathed in deeply and straightened up. “I don’t think so. As you say, it would be a shame to come all this way for nothing. I might just take in a bit of the countryside for a day or two, if you don’t mind the company. After all, I would hate to repay your kindness by leaving you alone with that killjoy.”
Brisbee nodded and looked slightly buoyed.
“Don’t go doing anything foolish,” I said. “Remember, you assured me you would play nice, however it turned out.”
“Did I say that?” Horner chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like me. All right, all right—you have my word. Nothing foolish. Don’t count me out entirely, though. I am remarkably charming.” He gave me a cheeky grin, as if to illustrate his point. “That stuffy old Lewis Lamb may warm up to me yet.”
“Be careful,” Charlie told him. “I would hate to be the one called to take you to lockup. Professor Lamb did not sound very open-minded.”
“What about you, Miss Rook?” Horner said. “You’ve lost the site as much as I have.”
“On the contrary,” Jackaby answered for me, sounding jarringly cheerful. He leaned on the railing and looked genially out across the countryside. “We’ve lost nothing. Now that your little side-project up the hill is out of the question, we can focus our attention on the real reason we’re out here.”
“The real reason we’re out here?” I said, glancing warily to my employer. With a reporter having been summoned just that morning, now was the wrong time for Jackaby to forget about his promise to keep our investigation of the murders discreet. “The real reason we are here is to investigate the bones behind that barrier, isn’t it, sir?”
“In point of fact, Miss Rook, the reason we’re here” — Jackaby raised his eyebrows in my direction—“is to investigate the one that isn’t.”
“He’s right,” Charlie said. “There is still a fossil missing, even if its rightful owner has changed. It is time we directed our attention to pursuing the culprit.”
“Maybe it was just a wolf or some other creature?” Brisbee suggested.
Jackaby scowled. “Yes. It is a distinct possibility that our perpetrator was not human at all. Trust me, we are considering that scenario very seriously.”