Death at King Arthur's Court (3 page)

Captain Norbert of the state police followed the medical examiner out of the RV. Both men examined the encased sword in the tech's arms until the doctor gave an affirmative nod.

‘Looks like the sword was it,' Rocco said softly.

‘If that blood on my clothing matches Morgan's …' Lyon left the remainder of the thought unspoken.

Norbert, deep in thought, walked slowly toward the patio steps. He was followed by a corporal. He nodded at Rocco. ‘Chief Herbert.'

‘Captain Courageous, I presume,' Rocco replied.

‘Cut the crap,' the captain snapped.

Norbert was a bantam-size man. He had barely qualified for the trooper height requirements, but, as the years passed, he compensated for this lack by increasing the girth of his upper body. He now appeared to be slightly top-heavy. His forward momentum had matured into a minor strut that seemed necessary to propel his pyknic physique forward.

‘Here they are, Captain.' The second corporal hurried to the captain's side and handed him the acetate bag containing Lyon's bloody clothing. Norbert took it with a grimace and thrust it toward Lyon.

‘This your clothing, Wentworth?'

‘Yes.'

Norbert handed the evidence back to the corporal. ‘They tell me you were wandering around the woods carrying that sword.'

‘Yes.'

‘The medical examiner informs me that it might be the murder weapon. Lab tests will or will not confirm that.' The last remarks were directed directly at Rocco. ‘His prints are probably smeared all over the damn thing.'

Lyon seemed oblivious to the remarks. ‘Since the death threats against Morgan began—'

‘That's Warren Morgan, the victim,' Rocco said.

Norbert snapped his fingers and the first corporal began to take rapid notes.

‘Morgan,' Lyon continued, ‘has recently been living in his recreational vehicle. It's a radically modified Winnebago. It's those structural changes that complicate matters.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘I was never quite sure what kind of attack he expected,' Lyon said. ‘He had modified it until the whole thing became a rolling fortress.'

‘There was absolutely no way to get into that vehicle when Morgan had it buttoned up,' Rocco said. ‘And on the night of his death it was shut up tighter than a Sherman tank. Theoretically there was no way anyone could get in without his permission. And since he always locked the door when he left, if Morgan came outside voluntarily and was killed in the open, there would be no way to get his body back inside.'

‘But you somehow managed to open it and find the body?' Norbert said skeptically.

‘Morgan had installed a combination lock on the Winnebago's side door,' Rocco said. ‘He changed the number settings yesterday and, as far as we know, Lyon was the only person who had the combination to that lock. He's the one who opened it for me.'

‘How cooperative of him,' Norbert said. ‘Getting this down?' he snapped at the corporal.

‘Yes, sir. Every word.'

‘Let's proceed with the matter of the death threats. Exactly who was threatening Morgan?'

Lyon looked out over the hills. ‘It's a rather extensive list. I suppose you might start with two literature professors from Middleburg University, and include his half-brother and sister.'

‘Then there's the Satan crew,' Rocco said. ‘They call themselves the Brotherhood of Beelzebub. We understand from the broadsides they posted that a few dozen of them have sworn a sacred vow to kill Morgan.'

‘Satan worshipers?' Norbert asked. ‘Do we know who or where they are?'

‘We haven't been able to track them down yet,' Rocco said. ‘Probably a bunch of disgruntled college dropouts. The broadsword fits rather nicely into their ritualistic beliefs. The chief mucky muck of the Brotherhood of Beelzebub, whatever they call him, recently placed a hundred-grand bounty on Morgan.'

‘The brother and sister were after the control of the trust fund,' Lyon added. ‘But I don't know how much money is involved there.'

‘Tell me about these Beelzebub characters. Why were they so upset?' Norbert asked.

‘Their leader was displeased, and that's putting it mildly, with a series of articles that Morgan wrote for
New Forward
magazine. That really set them off,' Lyon said.

‘Some sort of pungent postmodern criticism, I suppose.'

‘It began with a literary pastiche called “Bloody Rights or Bloody Rites”. It satirized them as being all puerile bluster and no action.'

‘They were not amused,' Rocco added.

‘What are the faculty members after?' Norbert asked.

‘Morgan was chairman of a department, and there's a battle over the appointment to a new endowed chair,' Lyon said. ‘The faculty takes that sort of business rather seriously.'

‘Captain,' the second corporal said. ‘There's a civilian van coming up the drive.'

Norbert snapped around to see a television remote unit with a satellite dish on the roof approaching. It was stopped fifty yards from the house by a Murphysville police officer.

‘Oh, Christ!' the state police captain said. ‘How do these paparazzi do it? If we were that efficient, the crime rate would drop thirty per cent.' He went through the open French doors that led into the living room. When no one followed, he gave an impatient signal to Rocco. ‘Come on, let's get a rough statement down before we get buried by the reporters. Keep the media away from the house!' he yelled to one of his corporals. He put his arm around Lyon's shoulder. ‘I hope there is a logical explanation for everything that's happened here, Mr Wentworth. By the way, where is Senator Beatrice Wentworth?'

‘She's out of town,' Lyon said.

‘Let's get your feedback on what we've got so far,' Norbert said. He read from his corporal's notes and made slashing checks at each item. ‘The deceased was Warren Morgan, chairman of the English department at Middleburg University. He was evidently a man of exceptionally poor social skills. The deceased was under some sort of ritualistic sentence of death by some cult of the devil. Two days ago he parked his modified Winnebago in the Wentworths' drive. Last night, prior to the murder, there was a small gathering for drinks and barbecue at the Wentworth home. Present were two teachers from the university, Morgan's half-brother and sister, along with the sister's boyfriend. The victim, Morgan, and the host, Wentworth, were also present.

‘At some point during the night or early morning, Wentworth was possibly drugged. While in a confused state of mind he was pursued by a hooded individual waving a large sword.' Norbert looked up at Lyon and slowly shook his head before continuing. ‘Wentworth evidently passed out during this attack. He awakened at about the time Chief Herbert arrived to check out a phone request from Mrs Wentworth, who was not present during these activities.' He gave a baleful look at Lyon. ‘You are evidently a very sound sleeper. Morgan was last seen alive when he retired to his armored vehicle parked in the Wentworths' drive. He was observed closing and locking the combination door that led into the vehicle. This morning Chief Herbert discovered Mr Wentworth dazed and wandering toward the house wearing blood-smeared clothing and carrying a large antique sword. The medical examiner states that the deceased's injuries could have been made by that type of sword. Forensic tests on the blood spatters are yet to be performed. The deceased's body was found inside the armored vehicle. Access into said vehicle was gained by the only other person besides the victim who possessed the combination to the door, Lyon Wentworth.'

Lyon nodded. ‘That seems correct. I know this all sounds rather bizarre,' Lyon said tiredly.

Norbert glared at Rocco and gestured toward the hallway. Both men stepped into the kitchen. As soon as the senior police officers left the room, the attitude of the remaining corporals moved from attentive note-taking to guardianship. They shifted positions and seemed alert to any abrupt movements by Lyon.

‘You know, Herbert, I don't really need this,' Norbert said. ‘This guy's wife is one of the most prominent state legislators in Connecticut. She's a friend of the governor, at least one of our US senators, and my commissioner. On top of that, this guy comes up with a story that makes me want to believe in the tooth fairy. Jesus, I can't win on this one.'

‘He happens to be my closest friend, Norbie,' Rocco said.

‘The guy, Wentworth, he's not in local politics or connected to the financial community, is he?'

‘No. He's still writing children's books, mostly about things he calls his Wobbly monsters,' Rocco said.

‘I hope he's not a goddamn intellectual.'

‘He's a trustee of Middleburg University.'

‘Jesus, why did you involve me? A hell of a brother-in-law you are. In the past you've always been the one to fight for your jurisdictional rights to keep us out of a case.'

‘I couldn't take jurisdiction this time, Norbie. I'll do anything in the world I can to help Lyon, but my conflict of interest is so obvious the media would hang us both if I stay on the case. That would do more harm than good for Lyon.'

Norbert sighed. ‘God. I'm stuck with a no-win deal here.' He shook himself as if to ward off further onslaughts. ‘We're knee-deep in barn droppings, Rocco. You neatly disqualified yourself, but how long do you think it's going to take for the media to find out that you and I are related by marriage? About ten seconds, that's how long. So, I'm warning you. I want any information you have, or your conduct goes straight to a one-man grand jury. What else do you have? And I mean really what else!'

Rocco's craggy facial lines seemed to harden into rocky faults as his inner torment became obvious to the state police officer. ‘There's been talk recently.'

‘Of what? Damn it all, man, spit it out!'

‘Forget it.' Rocco started back toward the living room.

‘Forget hell!' Norbert grabbed the chief's arm and whirled him around. Although he had to tilt his head to look up at Rocco, it didn't seem to diminish his belligerency. ‘It'll come out eventually. You know it always does. What do you know?'

‘It's unconfirmed. So forget it.'

‘Something about Senator Wentworth playing house with the deceased?' Norbert asked.

‘Where'd you get that crap?'

‘From your wife, my sister. And it could be true.'

‘It's just stupid talk that Martha picked up somewhere, and I can't possibly believe it.'

‘It's a possible motive.'

‘Hell, Norbie, it's only beauty-parlor gossip.'

‘We don't have to prove motive, Rocco,' Norbert said. ‘All we have to produce is probable cause as to who done it. The motive bit narrows down our suspect list, which in this case seems to have a single name on it.'

‘There are others who had it in for Morgan,' Rocco said.

‘Your friend in the living room was in possession of what will probably turn out to be the murder weapon. He was covered in blood. You tell me that when you found him he seemed dazed and confused. He had the opportunity, since he possessed the door combination, and he had a possible motive. Jesus, Rocco, the only thing left to get is his confession.'

‘Assuming the forensics check out.'

‘I would be amazed if they didn't,' Norbert said as he started through the swinging door.

‘At this point Lyon had best shut up,' Rocco said.

Again Norbert performed his belligerent pivot to approach Rocco. ‘You keep your mouth shut? In fact, why don't you get the hell out of here, since this is my case?'

‘There's a matter of reading his rights,' Rocco said.

‘When I make the arrest. A couple more loose ends and then we make the arrest and go for the confession. That's when he gets his Miranda. But I'm warning you, Herbert. Back off and don't interfere.' His anger seemed to increase the angle of his strut as he stormed back to the living room with Rocco reluctantly following. ‘A few more loose ends, Mr Wentworth,' Captain Norbert said in an even and reasonable voice. ‘I assume that the deceased was more than a casual acquaintance of yours.'

‘At one time I taught in his department. We've known each other for nearly fifteen years.'

‘And how long have you known of the deceased's affair with Senator Wentworth?'

Lyon's face rapidly merged through a series of emotions. The sequence began with blank incomprehension which shifted temporarily into anger and finally humor. ‘You've got to be kidding?'

‘I do not joke,' the captain replied.

‘That's for sure,' Rocco agreed.

Lyon laughed. ‘My wife is a very independent person, but Morgan …' He laughed again.

‘Let's go back to when you were on the Middleburg faculty,' Norbert said.

‘We were both instructors in the same department before I resigned to pursue my career as a freelance writer.'

‘I wanted to get to that,' the captain said. ‘You write anything we might know?'

‘My most successful book was one I did a few years ago during the Bicentennial. You may have heard of
Nancy Goes to Mount Vernon.
'

Norbert made no effort to conceal his disdain. ‘Years ago we used to confiscate filth like that. I remember one hot number in particular called
Debbie Does Dallas
.'

Rocco was unable to control himself any longer. ‘For God's sake! The man writes children's literature.'

Norbert shrugged. ‘Whatever. We can assume that Senator Wentworth knew the deceased for an equal amount of time, that is to say fifteen years?'

‘You know, Captain, at this point, you've really lost me,' Lyon said.

Norbert nodded. ‘I see. Can we assume that you are terminating this interview, Mr Wentworth?'

‘You may so assume,' Lyon answered.

‘In that case,' Norbert said as he stood before Lyon, ‘I must warn you.' He held out his hand toward one of the ever present corporals, who promptly slapped a laminated Rights Warning card in his palm.