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share of pontificators and preachers. But it would seem that the viewing of the plaque was to be as
disorganized and sporadic as the eating of the midday meal, with each mourner making the climb in
his or her own time.
Trevor was likewise surveying the scene, but his attention was focused on the
whereabouts of the other members of the Murder Games Club. Tom and Emma, he noticed, were
sitting around a small table which also held the pretty little Amy Morrow. Geraldine was among a
larger group at a larger table and as Trevor continued to watch he noted that Michael Everlee and
Henry Seal were pulling up chairs and preparing to join them. From the ostentatious way in which
both of the men brushed the dust from their pant legs, Trevor could only conclude that their own climb
was behind them.
Morass was right, Trevor thought. They fit together perfectly. Trying so hard to seem
important. Clinging to their titles and insignia.
“All the particulars of our little story seem to be visible and accounted for,” Rayley said,
breaking into his thoughts. “Save for Miss Hoffman, Hubert Morass, and Davy. Where would you
imagine that unlikely trio might have gone?”
“There appear to be only three things to do on this outing,” Trevor said. “Eat, urinate,
and view the well. If they were doing the first, we could see them. The second task is one I doubt
they would undertake together. So we can only assume they have climbed beyond that rise there and
are headed toward the well.”
“Shall I follow?” asked Rayley. “Things might go better with Adelaide if we do not
both beset her at once.”
“Let’s do the opposite,” Trevor said. “I shall climb and you shall stay. You have a
gentler interrogation style, one more suited for a skittish creature like Adelaide.”
“Very well,” said Rayley, pushing to his feet. “But don’t forget she has already outrun
me once.”
***
“Would you like a beer?” asked Morass.
“I dare not,” said Leigh Anne Hoffman.
“Come now,” he said, straining his neck to look in all directions, using the exaggerated
pantomime of a comedic actor. “No one is here to see to see the missionary take communion with the
sinner. Your students are below, gobbling every bit of food which is not bolted down, and the
worthies of Bombay are above us, laying wreathes and loudly lamenting the passing of an era. I
suspect no one is looking for the likes of you and me.”
“You are probably right,” she said with a shrug. “One of the bonuses of being utterly
expendable to society is plenty of free time.”
He laughed, showing his small, yellowed teeth, and scooted a bit over on his flat rock to
make room for her.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“Not yet. I shall make my way down to the tent in due time.”
If you try to walk downhill in your state you shall likely begin to tumble and roll all
the way back to Bombay, she thought. Morass was clearly drunk, but exactly how drunk was hard to
say.
“I have brought a bit of my curry,” she said, sitting down beside him and beginning to
unwrap a bowl from its canvas cloth. “Do you like curry, or are you one of those English who are
determined to stay English no matter what?”