Eva stood looking thoughtfully at the slashed stinging nettles and discarded scythe and shirt. She could tell by the state of the weeds they had been attacked less than an hour before, and certainly not for the benefit of Daphne Trotter. The way that scythe had been used on the nettles indicated its wielder could have intended the same fate for the local harpy had she approached too closely to gloat. It did briefly cross Eva’s mind that Yuri had perhaps concealed Daphne’s dismembered body somewhere. There was no trace of bloodstains, and Yuri’s arms, even holding the scythe, were too short to have hauled her from the horse. She dismissed the thought.
Eva tucked a selection of Yuri’s exercise books under her arm and walked thoughtfully back to her car parked out on the road leading to the museum. Coming towards her were the two shaggy individuals she had seen leading parties of the architecturally inquisitive round the grounds. Normally she wouldn’t have spoken unless they had shown some eagerness to be known, but she thought she might as well ask them as anyone else.
‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Early lunch hour?’
‘Yes,’ said John, as Fran became apprehensive that a scientist should show interest in them. ‘We’ve two parties coming at midday so we’re having a break now. Looking for someone?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I was. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mog - I mean Diana - anywhere about have you?’
‘Di?’ he asked as they stopped by the car. ‘She’s got the day off. Isn’t she at home?’
Eva was irritated by John’s ponderous manner, but replied politely enough, ‘No, nor is Julia, and she’s not with the loony Russian.’
Fran’s mouth opened to make the standard protest at what could be taken as a racist comment so John said quickly, ‘Can I take a message in case she drops in at the museum?’
‘Not really - Thanks all the same. It’s just something I thought she would be interested in.’ They viewed her with ill-concealed curiosity. ‘Something I dug out of some old records, about asteroids and alignments ... and things. Probably nothing to worry about at all.’
‘Not serious then?’ probed Fran.
‘No, it might not mean the end of the world.’ She opened the door of her car, ‘if we’re lucky.’