“Don’t you have someplace to be?” I say.
The dog presses into my skirts.
“Apparently not,” Gray says with a sigh.
“Fine, you’ve bought yourself a mongrel,” Davina grumbles. “But that doesn’t solve my problem.”
“We are not buying the dog,” I say. “We’ll find it a home after we’ve cleaned it up.”
She peers at me and snorts a laugh. “Oh, yes.” She turns to Gray. “Catriona was always a soft-hearted lass. You are lucky to have her. Butter would not melt on her sweet tongue.” She winks at me and then waggles her hand, indicating that she expects later payment for participating in this charade.
Gray shakes his head and puts out his elbow for me to take his arm. “It is time for us to go. If the dog follows, we will ask Simon to clean it up.”
“You have not solved my problem,” Davina says.
When I turn, slowly, she waves at the grave. “Even you knew that one wasn’t Bobby. I need Bobby. Or a proper likeness.”
“For what?”
She straightens, chin lifting. “I give tours. I take people about the kirkyard and tell them all the stories. But they all expect to see Bobby.”
“Uh-huh.”
I’d love to believe Davina has found honest work, but I can’t imagine anyone paying her more than a shilling for a “tour.” Which means she’s also picking their pockets while they’re busy cooing at the dog.
“It’s true,” she says. “I have found God.” She fumbles and pulls out a crucifix. “He has shown me the error of my ways, and I have dedicated my life to bringing joy into the lives of others.”
I manage to keep a straight face, but I’m more shocked that she’s able to keep one.
“We don’t find lost dogs,” I say. “Or replacements for lost dogs.”
Gray says, “I fear Bobby has likely gone somewhere to die. The last time I saw him, he seemed to have a tumor on his jaw. He is very old.”
If the current Bobby is even the original one, which is another matter that’s up for debate in my time.
“With any luck, someone took him in,” I say. “Giving him comfort in his final days.”
“Then find him and bring him back,” Davina says. “He has work to do.”
“Not very Christian of you,” I say.
She glares at me. “I take care of him. I bring scraps every day, for the people on my tour to feed him.”
So she charges a pittance for the tour. Then charges for the meat scraps to feed Bobby. Then picks their pockets while they do. I’m kinda impressed.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “This has nothing to do with us.”
Gray holds out another sovereign. “We are done here, yes?”
When Davina tries to take the coin, he keeps hold of it.
“I appreciate that you were concerned about the dog,” he says. “However, I would ask that you do not contact Catriona again. She really is very busy.”
Davina snorts. “I’m sure she is. Busy warming your bed.”
Gray’s eyes narrow, but Davina doesn’t have the sense to take the warning.
“Everyone knows she’s not really your assistant,” she continues. “Clever man that you are, you have found a way to keep a mistress under your own roof, and you think no one’s the wiser, but they are. They know exactly what you are doing, doctor, and they’re laughing at you for it.”
