The Celtic Dagger Read Online Free PDF

billowed and fell to the floor.  At the same time, the attic door slammed.  James turned back to the window and pulled it shut.  Silence returned.
    He stood for a time, taking in the shadows that moved around him before his eyes came to rest on a painting, dwarfed by the easel on which it sat.  It was a small oil painting of a woman’s head and shoulders in a gilded frame.  Why would Louise leave such a beautiful painting up here?  James picked it up, blew the dust off and looked for the artist’s name.  Puzzled when nothing appeared, he tucked the painting under his arm and made his way downstairs.  Perhaps Edwina Parker would know of someone who could clean it.  When he reached the front hall, he placed the painting on the hall table.  As he did so, the doorbell rang.  James opened the door to find Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn and his Sergeant.
    ‘Good evening, Doctor.  We called in at your office, but missed you.  I wonder if we can speak to you again.’
    James, his head still reeling from his earlier encounter with Fitzjohn stepped back from the door.  ‘Come through.’  He led the way into the living room and gestured for the two men to sit down.  Fitzjohn glanced around as he sat in one of the armchairs opposite the sofa.  ‘We don’t plan to stay long, Dr Wearing.  We dropped by to let you know that the dagger has proved to be the weapon that killed your brother.’  James stared at Fitzjohn in the silence that followed and the implications of this fact fell into place in his mind.
    ‘Of course, you realise that as the dagger was found in your office, it’ll be necessary to take your fingerprints so as to eliminate them from any others that may be found on the weapon.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    Fitzjohn got up from his chair, put his hands behind his back and circled the room before turning back to face James.  ‘However, having said that, I think tomorrow will be soon enough.’  Fitzjohn continued pacing and stopped in front of a group of watercolours on the wall above James’s desk.  He removed his glasses and looked at them intently.  ‘These are impressive, exquisite in fact.  Who’s the artist?’
    James felt unnerved by Fitzjohn sudden change of subject.  ‘My late wife, Louise.  She died two years ago in a car accident.’
    Fitzjohn looked back at James.  'I’m sorry to hear that.  Such a loss.'  He looked back at the watercolours.  'She had great talent, Doctor.’
    'Is there anything else you wanted to ask me, Chief Inspector?' said James impatiently.
    'There are a few questions, Dr Wearing, the first being whether you have any idea how the dagger got into your office.'
    ‘I have no idea.  I’m sure I locked the door when I left for the dinner.’
    ‘Is there a chance you could be mistaken?’
    ‘I suppose there’s always that possibility, but I doubt it.’
    ‘Right.  Assuming you did lock the door, who else has access to your office?’
    ‘Two people.  Alex who held a master key and, of course, there’s the key registry held by the attendant.’
    ‘I see.  Very well, we’ll look into it.  Now the other matter is concerning your brother.  Dr Trenbath has identified two academics he worked closely with in his current research.’  Fitzjohn looked over to Sergeant Betts, who turned the page of his notebook.
    ‘A Dr Gillespie and a Dr Ross.’
    Fitzjohn looked back at James.  ‘Can you think of anyone else he spent time with?’
    ‘Only Ashley Manning.  She’s a PhD student Alex has supervised for the past two years.’
    ‘And how did they get on?’
    ‘Fine, I believe.  At least I’ve never heard anything to the contrary.’
    ‘How well do you know Ms Manning?’
    James’s thoughts went to his time at the excavation site that past summer and his attraction to Ashley Manning.  They had spent many hours working together during his time at the site but, nevertheless, she remained aloof.
    ‘I haven’t had much to do with her other