close enough to home so that I can visit my old mum from time to time.”
Evan was surprised that he was the type who visited his old mum and thought more highly of him. “She lives nearby, does she?”
“In the council estate just outside Caernarfon.”
“Oh, right.” Evan nodded. “So you’re a local?”
Gwynne laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. Locals are supposed to go to chapel and work in slate mines, is it? I’ve done my share of working for a wage, boyo. Fifteen years with the bloody County Council. One day I said sod it. I’m not wasting another second of my life, so I chucked it in and came here. Paradise—or would be if that old cow would quit nagging.”
“I won’t keep you long, Mr. Gwynne. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about this morning. You heard that the little girl disappeared about eleven o’clock. I wondered if there was anything you saw or heard about that time that might help us in any way.”
“So they still haven’t found her then?” He frowned. “Nice little thing, wasn’t she? She came to watch me work a couple of times. Of course, I had to be careful, on account that I use a blowtorch, but she seemed fascinated. And she recognized that the figure I was making was a soldier, which is more than most people have done.”
“I take it you have to work outside if you’re using a blowtorch?”
“Oh yes. The whole thing would go up in smoke if I tried working in there—and if it did, the old cow would kill me.”
“So were you working outside this morning?”
Gwynne scratched his stomach. “Only a short while. It rained, you see, until about half past ten, and the wind was bad too. The sand blows up when there’s a wind, and it makes using a blowtorch impossible.”
“So you came outside to work after half past ten. Did you see anyone around?”
“That foreign couple in the end van—she was hanging out some washing, and he was cleaning hiking boots.”
“What about the little girl? Did you see her go to the beach with her mother?”
“No, I can’t say I noticed her this morning, but I was concentrating on getting as much work done as possible.”
“You didn’t notice any strange men? Foreign looking?”
“What kind of foreign?”
“Russian.”
The man laughed. “I’ve no idea what a Russian looks like, apart from athletes and ballerinas and Gorbachev and Yeltsin.” Then the smile faded. “In answer to your question, like I told your bloke before, I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”
“No car engines starting up?”
“Ah well, I wouldn’t have noticed that—unless there was something odd about the engine.”
“But you didn’t see a car drive past?”
“I think the German couple went past at some stage. They’ve got one of those Volkwagon Beetles—looks like a big kid’s toy, doesn’t it?”
“No other vehicles?”
He thought, then shook his head. “Not that I can remember. It’s usually pretty quiet around here, which is why I like it. I don’t recall anything much until the mother came running up, screaming like a madwoman.”
“What time was that, would you say?”
“After eleven, that’s all I can tell you.”
Evan held out his hand. “Thanks for your help and sorry to have troubled you.”
“If you want any help looking for the little girl, I’ll be glad to volunteer,” he said. “They’ll be sending out search parties, won’t they? They haven’t searched the mountain yet.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gwynne. I’ll bear that in mind,” Evan said.
The second man today to have volunteered to look for the little girl—she must have made quite an impression during the short
time she’d stayed here. Evan worked down the line of caravans until he came to the yellow van at the end of the row. The line of washing was still flapping outside. Before he could rap on the door, it opened and a young man came out. He was tall and lean, with close-cropped hair like a European soccer player,
Evan was surprised that he was the type who visited his old mum and thought more highly of him. “She lives nearby, does she?”
“In the council estate just outside Caernarfon.”
“Oh, right.” Evan nodded. “So you’re a local?”
Gwynne laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. Locals are supposed to go to chapel and work in slate mines, is it? I’ve done my share of working for a wage, boyo. Fifteen years with the bloody County Council. One day I said sod it. I’m not wasting another second of my life, so I chucked it in and came here. Paradise—or would be if that old cow would quit nagging.”
“I won’t keep you long, Mr. Gwynne. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about this morning. You heard that the little girl disappeared about eleven o’clock. I wondered if there was anything you saw or heard about that time that might help us in any way.”
“So they still haven’t found her then?” He frowned. “Nice little thing, wasn’t she? She came to watch me work a couple of times. Of course, I had to be careful, on account that I use a blowtorch, but she seemed fascinated. And she recognized that the figure I was making was a soldier, which is more than most people have done.”
“I take it you have to work outside if you’re using a blowtorch?”
“Oh yes. The whole thing would go up in smoke if I tried working in there—and if it did, the old cow would kill me.”
“So were you working outside this morning?”
Gwynne scratched his stomach. “Only a short while. It rained, you see, until about half past ten, and the wind was bad too. The sand blows up when there’s a wind, and it makes using a blowtorch impossible.”
“So you came outside to work after half past ten. Did you see anyone around?”
“That foreign couple in the end van—she was hanging out some washing, and he was cleaning hiking boots.”
“What about the little girl? Did you see her go to the beach with her mother?”
“No, I can’t say I noticed her this morning, but I was concentrating on getting as much work done as possible.”
“You didn’t notice any strange men? Foreign looking?”
“What kind of foreign?”
“Russian.”
The man laughed. “I’ve no idea what a Russian looks like, apart from athletes and ballerinas and Gorbachev and Yeltsin.” Then the smile faded. “In answer to your question, like I told your bloke before, I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”
“No car engines starting up?”
“Ah well, I wouldn’t have noticed that—unless there was something odd about the engine.”
“But you didn’t see a car drive past?”
“I think the German couple went past at some stage. They’ve got one of those Volkwagon Beetles—looks like a big kid’s toy, doesn’t it?”
“No other vehicles?”
He thought, then shook his head. “Not that I can remember. It’s usually pretty quiet around here, which is why I like it. I don’t recall anything much until the mother came running up, screaming like a madwoman.”
“What time was that, would you say?”
“After eleven, that’s all I can tell you.”
Evan held out his hand. “Thanks for your help and sorry to have troubled you.”
“If you want any help looking for the little girl, I’ll be glad to volunteer,” he said. “They’ll be sending out search parties, won’t they? They haven’t searched the mountain yet.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gwynne. I’ll bear that in mind,” Evan said.
The second man today to have volunteered to look for the little girl—she must have made quite an impression during the short
time she’d stayed here. Evan worked down the line of caravans until he came to the yellow van at the end of the row. The line of washing was still flapping outside. Before he could rap on the door, it opened and a young man came out. He was tall and lean, with close-cropped hair like a European soccer player,