Golden Relic Read Online Free Page A

dressed," Rigby stated.
    Sam looked down at her leather jacket, cotton shirt, jeans and runners. "I did mention it was my
day off, didn't I?"
    "So, Pilger rang you. How did he find out about this? He's in Canberra for goodness sake!"
    "Someone rang him, Jack," Sam said.
    "Who?"
    "That would have been me," came a soft-spoken voice from behind Sam.
    "Ah," Rigby said, as Sam turned around and found that after looking up at Rigby, she had to crick
her neck to be able to look comfortably at someone slightly shorter than her own height of
five-foot-six.
    "This is the Director of the Museum, Mr…ah," Rigby faltered.
    "Daley Prescott," the Director said. "Assistant Director," he amended.
    "Special Detective Sam Diamond," Sam said, shaking hands with the first person she'd ever met to
whom she felt she could apply the word 'dapper'. Prescott was neatness personified from his trim
grey suit to his perfectly styled and perfectly white, collar-length hair.
    "Can you tell me anything yet Detective Diamond? I am simply dreading the ramifications of this
should it turn out to be a case of murder," Prescott said and then added, almost as an afterthought,
"not to mention what poor Lloyd must have gone through."
    Sam tried to keep her face expressionless as she glanced at Rigby and then back to Prescott.
    "We'll discuss the possible ramifications after we ascertain the cause of death, Mr Prescott,"
she said. "I can't give you any details until Detective Rigby brings me up to speed on the
investigation so far."
    "Well, we haven't done much yet," Rigby stated. "We were told to wait for you."
    "Who told you that?" Sam asked in surprise.
    "I'm afraid I did. Is that a problem?" Prescott asked. On seeing Sam's amusement and
the annoyed look on Rigby's face, he continued hurriedly, "Of
course it is not official. I was simply advising you, Detective Rigby, of the imminent arrival of a
representative from the ACB and mistakenly, so it seems, assumed her authority would supersede
yours."
    "It's a common mistake Mr Prescott," Rigby said through clenched teeth. "Now, if you could keep
yourself available, or let Constable Rivers here know of your whereabouts, we'll get back to you
when we have more information." He turned to Sam and rolled his eyes. "The body?" he suggested.
    "The body," Sam echoed in agreement.
    The crime scene, for it would be treated as such until facts proved otherwise, was a long, narrow
room lined with and divided by temporary shelving filled with labelled boxes and a variety of stone
and wooden artefacts. At the far end Sam could see Doctor Ian Baird, the forensic pathologist,
consulting with his team members, one of whom was busy taking photographs. Extra lights had
obviously been brought in to illuminate what she guessed was normally a fairly dingy space.
    "What's your best guess Doc? Can we go home and let the family take over?" Rigby asked
hopefully.
    "Sorry Jack. Definitely suspicious circumstances here. Foul play is evident," Baird replied, his
Scottish accent, even after 20 years in the country, still unconsciously fighting any Australian
influences. "Hello Sam, long time no see," he added.
    "Ian, it's good to see you," Sam acknowledged, stepping forward to take a look at the body and
the evidence of foul play.
    Professor Lloyd Marsden lay almost in a foetal position on his left side, although his body had
rolled slightly so that his chest and right arm were also touching the floor. He was holding a pen
in his right hand, his right shoulder obscured the lower part of his face and the weight of his body
was squashing his nose against the dusty floorboards.
    To the right of the body, about two metres from the head, was a gruesome-looking stone statue of
a squatting figure with very large toenails. It was much too heavy to be wielded by even the most
determined assailant. To the left about one metre was an overturned chair, a cluttered work bench
and a drafting table. There was no likely-looking weapon, no blood and no signs of