Skylark (32 page)

Trevor was running toward the warren of streets that lies between the Fulham and Old
Brompton Roads. He flashed around a corner when Jay was within arm's length of him, and I lost
sight of them. Then Sergeant Baylor rounded the corner, too.

My arm was beginning to hurt. I hoped I hadn't jarred it. I slowed to a trot, nursing the
sling. Behind me I heard a police siren, and squealing of brakes and beeping of horns as the
traffic responded in the main road. The side street I was running along was almost deserted.

I turned the corner and slowed to a walk. Trevor was standing halfway down a quiet
residential street, by the iron railing of a basement areaway. Jay had a grip on his arm. Trevor's
shoulders slumped. I couldn't see his face.

Sergeant Baylor stood facing the two men. For an insane moment it looked as if they
were having a nice three-way conversation. I picked up my pace and neared them as Sergeant
Baylor began to inform Trevor of his rights with a formula similar to the Miranda warning.

When Jay saw me coming, he grimaced and gave a short shake of his head. No. I
stopped and leaned against the square pillar at the edge of the railing. Neat steps led up to a
bright yellow door with a polished brass knocker. There was a small neo-gothic church across
the street.

Sergeant Baylor's radio squawked as the police car rounded the corner and pulled up
sedately beside the little tableau. Two uniformed men got out. Trevor was handcuffed and put in
the back seat with a minimum of discussion. Sergeant Baylor leaned down to the driver and said
something, low-voiced, and the car drove off. It was almost as if Trevor had called for a
taxi.

"Now, sir..." Sergeant Baylor turned to Jay. "Mr. Dodge!"

I said dryly, "My husband, sergeant. We bumped into Trevor in the lobby of the
hospital. What happened?"

She blinked. She was puffing a little. "Your husband just assisted me in apprehending a
murderer."

Murderer? Surprise struck me dumb.

Sergeant Baylor drew a long breath and tucked a stray curl behind one ear. "Mr. Worth
was spotted not ten minutes ago in hospital trying to smother his sister with a pillow. We have
reason to believe it was he who ran her down on Sunday in Dorchester."

Jay said, "I was afraid of something like that when I saw him in the lobby. He looked as
if the devil was after him, and I knew Inspector Thorne hadn't been able to place the other
suspects in Dorset at the crucial time."

"Trevor tried to kill Daphne? But that's awful," I burst out. "Why? I don't
understand."

We were walking slowly back toward the hospital. Sergeant Baylor said, very cautious,
"Chief Inspector Thorne has never been satisfied that the men who burgled your flat also killed
Miss Beale."

"But I thought Parks..."

"Parks confessed to the burglary and to abetting the assault on Milos Vlaçek, but
he swears neither he nor Smith had anything to do with Miss Beale's murder."

"So he says." I was having trouble admitting to myself that I had been attracted,
however briefly, to a murderer. I stumbled on an uneven paving stone.

Jay took my good arm. "Different M.O."

Sergeant Baylor had been walking slightly ahead of us. She turned, her eyes earnest.
"That's it. The burglary was a professional job, but the murder seemed to be improvised on the
spot. Very amateurish."

"But effective," I croaked.

"And vicious." She shook her head. "That poor little dog."

We walked on, silent, giving Rollo his due.

At last she sighed and went on, "The Chief Inspector had Smith charged after the
explosion at Hambly because of Miss Beale's Czech connections. It seemed possible that the
murder was part of the international conspiracy after all. There was, er, a certain amount of
pressure."

From the press, or from the Home Office, I wondered.

"So Thorne reconsidered when the sedan came up clean?" Jay sounded as if he were
trying to read Thorne's mind.

Sergeant Baylor stepped boldly onto a zebra, the traffic halted, and we followed her
across. "I'm sure he'll explain his reasoning to you, sir. There is circumstantial evidence in the
first murder, and, of course, the second attempt on Miss Worth's life settles it. The man's guilty."
We were walking three abreast toward the hospital.

She picked up the pace. "I don't mind admitting I thought Mr. Thorne was daft to post
me at the hospital when Miss Worth's assailant was under lock and key in Shropshire. But the
inspector was right. He usually is."

Jay said, "Will you tell us what triggered the chase, sergeant?"

"I was standing at the nurse's station when the sister on duty let out a shriek. She'd gone
in to adjust the IV, and she found him at it. She pulled him away. Mr. Worth crashed into me as I
tried to enter the room. Knocked me down."

I wondered whether Trevor had said
Sorry
. "What did you do?"

"I radioed for help, but he'd disappeared down the stairs by the time I ascertained that
Miss Worth was still breathing."

I drew a sharp breath. "She's alive?"

"Oh yes." She walked on for several silent paces. "Do you know, that ghastly hypocrite
brought her flowers? We'd have caught up with him eventually, but I'm most grateful to you, Mr.
Dodge. I'd not like it on my record that I lost him."

We were approaching the hospital. At the entryway she stopped. "We'll want statements
from both of you, of course, but you may return to your flat and wait there, if you like. I know
Mrs. Dodge is unwell."

Mrs. Dodge was dumbfounded but otherwise hale.

Sergeant Baylor offered to send us home in a police car. She checked in with Thorne via
the radio. Jay thanked her but declined the ride. She shook hands with both of us and disappeared
into the lobby.

Jay and I stood on the sidewalk staring at each other. After a moment, Jay began to
chuckle.

"What is it?" I was rather cross that he had figured Trevor out and I hadn't.

"All the time I was chasing after the guy I was wondering whether a non-citizen can
make a citizen's arrest. It's a good thing the sergeant showed up."

"You must've been damned sure Trevor was guilty."

"I did call out to him, asked him what was the matter. When he heard me, he really
started running." He sobered. "You liked him, didn't you? I'm sorry, Lark."

I gave him as much of a hug as I could with one arm. "He talked about cars all evening.
I thought he was boring." A taxi approached, cruising. "Hey, the little yellow light isn't on. Hail
it. Quick."

We rode home in comfortable silence. I was trying to sort things out and was so
absorbed I forgot to worry about the reporters. They were still there.

As we emerged from the taxi a young woman stuck a microphone under my nose.
Flash-bulbs went off. "Mrs. Dodge, tell us your sensations when..."

I said, "You really ought to pop over to the Chelsea police station. Miss Beale's
murderer was just arrested." In the breathless pause before the new questions began we dashed
up the stairs, and Jay unlocked the door.

"Who did it? Tell us who did it, Mrs. Dodge."

I turned on the step and gave them all a huge smile. "No comment."

I wondered what was keeping Ann.

Jay and I kicked our heels at the flat, waiting for the police to come for our statements.
Remnants of the press battalion still lurked around the entryway, so there was no inducement to
go out. We talked about Trevor's arrest and what it meant, but not exhaustively. Jay is trained not
to theorize ahead of the facts. I think he was a little embarrassed by his leap of intuition. I like to
jump to conclusions as well as anyone, but I was feeling chagrin that I had so seriously
misjudged Trevor. Of the two siblings, I would have cast Daphne as the murderer. Though I had
come to like her, she had seemed the less stable personality.

We ate a snack. Ann still hadn't come. I hoped the errand she was running for Milos
hadn't tangled her in some political web or bankrupted her. I hoped she wasn't going to pay
Milos's rent. I stewed about that. Her funds had to be getting low.

Jay told me what I needed was a good run, and he was right. Unfortunately my feet
weren't up to it, as my brief sprint that morning had taught me. I had applied bandages to the
half-healed cuts and was scuffing around in slippers when the door buzzer sounded.

Jay went to answer it, and returned with Inspector Thorne himself. Thorne was
accompanied by Sergeant Baylor and Constable Ryan, and all three looked pleased with
themselves. Sergeant Wilberforce sent greetings from Shropshire.

I offered coffee or tea, and they settled for tea--or Thorne did. Though he was in high
good humor, he made poor Ryan go out to keep the press at bay. Sergeant Baylor came with me
to the kitchen and showed me her tea-making technique. I put the remainder of the digestive
biscuits on a plate, and we took the tray to the living room.

After tea Thorne took our statements, with Sergeant Baylor doing steno duty. Thorne
was thorough, as usual, but this time he didn't fish for our subjective interpretations. In my case
that was just as well.

He seemed interested in Jay's part in the chase. "Betty here tells me you hared off after
Worth before she appeared on the scene. Did you suspect him all along?"

"He was behaving strangely this morning." Jay rubbed the back of his neck. He looked
embarrassed. "I can't say I pegged him from the first, sir. I thought he was a pleasant guy but not
very bright. The thing is, he has expensive tastes."

Ah, the Porsche. I should have brooded about the Porsche.

Jay went on, "And then he sells used cars..."

"What?" I suppose my eyeballs bulged.
Used
cars?

Jay fiddled with his watch strap, avoiding my stare. "That agency deals in new and used
vehicles, all up-scale, but he said he handled only used cars. He tried to sell me one. The
commission on used cars--even used Jags--can't be all that wonderful. And this is an expensive
town to live in."

Thorne said he himself commuted from the southern suburbs because rents in Chelsea
were so steep.

Jay waved an expressive hand at the zebra-striped decor. "Ann and Lark have been
paying outrageous rent, and the incursion of a lot of well-heeled temporary residents into an area
is bound to inflate all rents."

Thorne nodded. "Go on, lad."

I squirmed. Jay's observation was true, of course, and exactly what Daphne's group had
been protesting, but hotel rates were even more outrageous than the rent we had paid Miss
Beale.

Jay was saying, "I suspected both of Miss Beale's heirs even before I left home. When I
met them, though, I didn't think Miss Worth was particularly interested in money or social
prestige. I also didn't think her brother would settle for the wrong kind of address."

"Daphne hated the commute from Chiswick," I objected.

"But she was involved in that activist group, trying to do something constructive about
rents in general. People who think that way don't usually succumb to selfish motives."

Thorne smiled at Jay as if he were a pupil who had come up with the right answer on an
exam. "Greed and debt. Worth's overdraft was stretched to the limit. He owed his tailor a
whopping tab, too. Miss Beale had bailed him out once and told him she wouldn't do it again. By
all accounts she was fond of her nephew, but she had strict notions of fiscal rectitude. That and
the prospect of inheriting were more than enough to provide temptation when the moment
came."

Jay smoothed his mustache. "Miss Beale's murder looked like an opportunistic crime to
me. When Lark told me about the burglary and its aftermath, she mentioned that both of the
Worths had been in the basement flat when the crime was discovered. I suppose Worth saw his
chance and took it. There was a strong possibility the burglars would be blamed."

Thorne chuckled. "Or your good wife."

Jay's mouth twitched at the corners. "Or Lark, or Ann, or both in collusion."

"He didn't like Rollo."

All three of them looked at me, and Sergeant Baylor's eyes narrowed.

I held my ground. "The first time I saw Trevor Worth he cuffed Rollo, who was yipping
at us the way poodles do when strangers invade their territory. I didn't think much about it at the
time. Rollo was just being a poodle, but the noise was irritating. I have since been, er, sensitized
to British feelings about dogs. Trevor's behavior was not typical."

"Ah, the newspapers." Thorne must have read the
Independent
column, too.
"D'ye know what set old Sparky talking?"

We shook our heads.

"He was willing to admit his role in the stabbing, and burglary's his trade, poor sod, but
what he couldn't thole was being sent up for coshing a dog. Tears in his eyes. I had to believe
him. Mind you," Thorne thumped the arm of the chair for emphasis, "Parks is an old-fashioned
crook. Smith is another sort of villain altogether."

I leaned forward. "Is that why you asked me about Smith's personality?"

"Aye. I was trying to see him bashing in the dog's head and tossing Miss Beale down
four flights of stairs. I daresay Smith wouldn't have had qualms. He's a killer, true enough, but he
likes to use a knife, and he's quiet with it. You said he was cold, lass. That was my impression,
too."

I shivered. "Efficient."

"Aye, and there was nowt in Miss Beale's death to suggest the killer was either quiet or
efficient."

I sighed. "It's hard to imagine Trevor bludgeoning his aunt and Rollo with a blunt
instrument. He may be greedy but he's fastidious, too."

"Not when it comes to battening on his female relatives," Sergeant Baylor interposed.
When we looked at her she flushed, but she didn't retract. Something going on there.

"Ah, well, Worth's a wide boy," Thorne said. "He's not talking. Advice of counsel. The
family solicitor's a nice, quiet chap. He's scurrying about looking for a Q.C. to defend. Good luck
to him. If Worth hadn't tried to smother his sister he might've got away with it. Thanks to you,
sir, we have him in custody."