The sun had dipped behind the mountains, plunging the narrow valley into deep twilight as Bronwen and Evan finally drove up the Llanberis Pass to Llanfair.
“It's later than I expected,” Bronwen said.
Evan turned to glance at her. “I wasn't the one who had a wild impulse to stop off at the church and go over the service with the vicar for an hour.”
“It had to be done,” Bronwen said. “I wanted to make sure I knew what I was going to be asked and what I was agreeing to.”
“I noticed you heaved a sigh of relief when the vicar said they'd cut out the honor and obey clause.”
“He seemed a pleasant person, didn't he?”
Evan smiled. “You're finding everybody pleasant at the moment. It must be that pre-wedding glow. If you want to know, I thought he was a bit creepy. A little too gushy for my taste.”
“But then you're used to the ministers at the two chapels, spouting hellfire and brimstone.”
“And quite right too.” Evan slowed the car to a halt outside a row of plain stone cottages, some whitewashed and some not. The one he was living in was not, but sported a red door, which the locals considered sinfully ostentatious.
“It's almost dark.” Bronwen looked up the mountain. “I had planned to get one room of the cottage sorted out enough to sleep in. Now I'm not sure what I should do. I presume my bed is already up there?”
“It is, and you can't go up there tonight,” Evan said. “It's a proper mess. Charlie Hopkins was a wonderful help in carrying stuff up the mountain, but it's all just dumped willy-nilly in the living room. I had planned to start getting things in order before I met you at the bank, but instead I had to deal with the hiker and his missing girlfriend.”
“I hope he's found her by now,” Bronwen said.
“I'll call HQ and see if there's any news,” Evan said. “But first we've got to decide what to do with you. I've cleaned out the schoolhouse, which means you'd better stay here, I suppose.”
“That's probably one of the most romantic proposals I've had in my life.” Bronwen gave him a sardonic smile. “Is it my reputation you're thinking of, or yours?”
“Oh, come on, Bron.” He turned his key in the lock. “You know what I mean. I've only got the one single bed, haven't I? You're welcome to take that and I'll sleep in my sleeping bag on the floor.”
Bronwen slipped her arm around him as they went inside. “Don't be such a martyr. I'm sure it will be very cozy if we snuggle up.” Then she went on down the hall into the kitchen. “More to the point, what are we going to eat? If I know you, you'll have one tin of baked beans and some cheese in the larder and that's it.” She opened the fridge. “Oh, and some eggs. Amazing. Well, I can always whip us up an omelette then.”
“I thought we might have something over at the Dragon,” Evan said.
“Oh Evan. If we're going to eat out, let's splurge and go up to the Everest Inn. At least their food isn't reheated in microwaves.”
“They do a decent bangers and chips at the Dragon. And the fish and chips isn't bad either,” Evan defended. “And besides, I promised Charlie Hopkins that I'd treat him to a pint for helping me carry all of your possessions up the mountain today.”
Bronwen shrugged. “In that case, I suppose I'd better admit defeat and resign myself to Betsy's microwaved shepherd's pie.”
The Red Dragon's regular customers had been at the bar for an hour or more, enough time to create a thick tobacco fug. Bronwen stifled a cough.
“It will be better in the ladies' lounge,” Evan whispered, knowing her feelings on smoke.
“If you think I'm being exiled while you stand around the bar chatting with your mates, you can think again,” Bronwen whispered back.
Through the smoke haze the voices of the village butcher and milkman, both called Evans, rose above the low hum of conversation.
“Bloody tourists,” Evans-the-Meat's loud baritone echoed back from the oak-beamed ceiling. “Don't tell me they're good for the local economy. And don't tell me you're getting rich by selling them ice creams either. I had some English yuppie type come into my shop today and ask if I had any marinades to go with the lamb she was buying. I looked her in the eye and told her it was best Welsh lamb, not your imported New Zealand rubbish. It didn't need marinades. It had flavor all by itself.”
The other men at the bar chuckled and nodded agreement. As Evans-the-Meat finished his story, he looked up and spotted Evan and Bronwen in the doorway. “Well, would you look what we've got here,” he exclaimed. “None other than the lovebirds. Is this the equivalent of the last phone call then, Evan
bach?
You're being allowed one final look at the inside of the pub before your marriage?”
“He won't have the strength to stagger up that mountain after he's been drinking,” Evans-the-Milk dug the butcher in the ribs.
“And if he manages to get that far, he won't have enough strength for anything else that night,” Evans-the-Meat retorted, and the group broke into noisy laughter.
“You two just keep quiet.” Betsy the barmaid leaned out across the bar to deliver a slap on the closest arm. “I think it's lovely just that there's going to be a wedding in this place. So romantic. I can't wait to see Bronwen in her veil and her long white dress.”
“And Evan in his top hat?” Evans-the-Meat quipped.
“Give over, Gareth,” Evan said to the grinning butcher. “Can you see me in a top hat? I'm just going to be wearing a dark suit. None of this morning coat stuff, thank you.”
“I think you'll look just fine,” Betsy said, giving him a wistful smile.
“Where's Barry tonight then?” Evan asked, mentioning Betsy's current flame and hoping that Bronwen hadn't noticed Betsy's gaze.
“Out on the mountain looking for some stupid lost hiker,” Betsy said. “Charlie's up there with him and a couple of other men from the village too.”
“How long ago were they called out?”
“They've been gone a couple of hours, wouldn't you say?” Betsy asked.
There were several nods. “They had vans full of coppers. They even had dogs,” Evans-the-Meat said. “Big-scale operation, I'd call it.”
Evan turned to Bronwen. “So it looks like she hasn't been found yet. Maybe I should call in to see if they need me.”
“Not until you've had a pint and something to eat,” Bronwen said. She lowered her voice. “And now that we've found out that Charlie isn't here, maybe we could go up to the Everest Inn?”
“That would be rude, now that we're here,” Evan said, “and I thought we were supposed to be saving up for the honeymoon.” He turned back to Betsy. “What can you rustle up for dinner for two hungry people, Betsy
fach?”
Betsy wrinkled her forehead. “I'm sorry, but we're not doing food tonight. Harry's away, you see, and it's just me holding the fort.”
“Never mind.” Bronwen gave Evan a quick glance. “Why don't we just have a quick drink then and I'll cook something at your place.”
Evan managed a convincing smile and resigned himself to the omelette. Personally, he felt that eggs belonged on the breakfast table or hardboiled at a picnic. Definitely not a man's dinner.
“A pint of Guinness, is it then, Evan?” Betsy asked, already starting to draw it. “And for you, Miss Price?”
“Bron will have a shandy,” Evan said before Bronwen could ask for a Perrier and thus embarrass him.
Betsy had just handed them their drinks when Evan's mobile phone rang. He excused himself and stepped out into the hallway to answer it.
“Evans, Watkins here,” came the clipped voice of his inspector. “I want you to meet me at the Snowdon Railway. I've just had a call from the boys in the search party and you won't believe what they've found.”
“They've found the missing girl?” Evan didn't dare to ask more.
“No, it's not the missing girl. I can't talk right now.”
“Do you want me to bring any more men with me?” Evan asked.
“No, we certainly don't need any more men.” Watkins's voice sounded tense. He lowered it. “This could be something rather nasty, Evans.”
“I'll be right there, sir.” Evan put the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry,
cariad,
but I've got to go.” He gave Bronwen a kiss on the cheek. “I'll see you later. I'm needed with the search party.”
“Oh, Evan. Haven't they got enough men searching so that you have time for dinner?”
“Inspector Watkins wants me there right away.”
Bronwen's face fell. “Oh no. Something hasn't happened to that girl, has it?”
“I don't know yet, love. I honestly have no idea what it is. Only that the inspector sounded very upset. You've got a key to let yourself back in, haven't you?”
With that he pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped out into the cool night air. The evening star hung big and bright over the horizon and behind the peaks a glow hinted at a moon about to rise. At least it would be a good night for searching, if searching was what he was being called to do. He recalled the dread in the inspector's voice and shivered. It took a lot to rattle someone like Inspector Watkins, who had been on the force for almost twenty years now.
He made the journey down the pass to Llanberis in less than ten minutes and parked in front of the terminal of the little rack-railway
that ascended Mount Snowdon. Two white police vans were parked there, but no sign of any policemen. As he stepped out of his car, Inspector Watkins emerged from the shadows of the station porch, his hands thrust into his raincoat pockets.
“That was quick,” he called.
“I was at the Dragon. It's only a ten-minute drive,” Evan said. “I had to leave without having dinner, so I hope this is important.”
Usually Watkins would have come back with some quip about Evan's waistline. Instead he muttered, “It's important all right,” and led the way past the station platform where the little train sat silent and dark. “I hope we don't need hiking boots,” he said. “I understand we've got a bit of a climb.”
“And it's not the missing hiker, sir? What exactly is it?”
“I'm holding off judgment on that until I see for myself. Okay, Pritchard, D.C. Evans is here.”
A uniformed figure rose from a bench beside the path. “This way, sir,” he said, and set off, following the lane that ran beside the railway track. He carried a torch and the beam danced ahead of them.
“We thought she might have taken the Llanberis path down, because it's the easiest.” The young constable turned back to Watkins as the lane began to climb steeply and then became a hiking track. “Sergeant Jones suggested we search that wood, just in case someone had been lurking and saw her coming down alone.” He indicated the dark shape of a stand of trees ahead to the left of the path. “And we had the dogs with us and one of them led us right to it.”
They left the main path and picked their way through heather, bracken, and rocks until they reached the wooded area. D.C. Pritchard shone his torch and led them among the trees.
“It's not that far,” Pritchard said, his voice echoing unnaturally loud in the clear night air. Leaves and bracken crunched underfoot. Gnarled old oaks and giant conifers loomed up in front of them, looking like deformed monsters, reaching out clawed hands in the torchlight. They started to climb steeply as the wood ascended the slopes of the mountain. Evan felt his heart hammering, although he
was used to walking up mountains. He sensed the urgency in the other men. He just wanted to know and to get it over with.
As they came out into a clearing, moonlight streamed down onto them, and a view opened up below them. Across the narrow valley they could see the thin ribbon of Llyn Padarrn, glistening in the moonlight. The slate cliffs rose in menacing tiers above it, looking like a forbidding fortress in the dark.
Then they plunged into thick woodland again. Brambles and twigs grabbed at their clothing as they pushed past. Ahead of them Evan could see lights bobbing among the trees and the murmur of voices.
“Here's Inspector Watkins now, sir,” someone called out, and the beefy Sergeant Bill Jones stepped out from behind a large fir tree.
“Hello, sir. We thought you'd better take a look at this. I've also taken the liberty of calling forensics, just in case.” He looked over at Evan and nodded hello. “This way, then. Mind your step in the dark. Davies, bring that torch here so I don't go arse-over-tip.”
He bent down, pulled on something, and a trap door opened.
“We didn't go down, sir,” he said, looking up at Watkins, “but we shone the torches around pretty thoroughly. It doesn't look as though anybody's there.”