Skylark (16 page)

Jay was scheduled to attend his DNA Fingerprinting seminar on Saturday and Sunday in
Yorkshire. It was the May Day bank holiday, and he was supposed to stay at a hostelry near
Thirsk provided by the sponsors, an international police association. I found Ann's guide to
Yorkshire and looked up Thirsk. It sounded pleasant. Perhaps we could rent a car, and I could
tootle around the Yorkshire countryside while Jay considered the forensic analysis of bodily
fluids. Thirsk. Castle Howard? York? I had visited York as a child and loved it. I began
reading.

The door buzzer sounded. I leapt up and tried to forestall a second buzz, but the caller
rang again before I could reach the door and press the button that would admit him.

It was Thorne, looking cross and accompanied this time by Sgt. Baylor. He seemed to
alternate between Baylor and Wilberforce. I wondered if that was usual. I had gathered the vague
impression from British detective stories that it wasn't, but fiction is fiction.

I led the police into the living room and offered them coffee. They declined. Thorne sat
on the zebra-patterned sofa. Baylor perched on an armchair and took out her notebook. She
seemed fascinated by my sweats.

I stood by the fireplace. "Welcome to our new flat. What can I do for you?"

"Follow my instructions," Inspector Thorne snapped.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You left London yesterday without notifying me."

I sighed. "I beg your pardon, Inspector. I went straight to Gatwick Airport to meet my
husband and came straight back."

He grunted. "I thought Mr. Dodge was scheduled to arrive on Friday."

"He was. When you lifted my passport he changed his mind."

"I see. Well..." He broke off. Sgt. Baylor was gaping.

I turned. Jay, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, was standing in the bedroom
doorway, blinking. "Lark, where's my...oops." He ducked across to the bathroom and shut the
door.

I bit back a grin. Sgt. Baylor had been treated to the sight of a California-brown torso of
collectible quality. I hoped she appreciated it. I did.

Thorne was blushing.

I said blandly, "I don't want to waste your valuable time, inspector. I'm sure you had
something to tell me. Or did you want to speak to Ann? Unfortunately, she's out for the day.
Won't be back until dinnertime."

He cleared his throat. "I meant to tell you that the woman whose bag was stolen on the
Tube has come forward."

"About time. She was shouting to all and sundry that she could identify Milos's
assailant. Did she?" I heard the battery-operated razor I had bought Jay kick in.

"Mrs. Watt has provided us with a detailed description." Thorne favored me with a
constrained smile. "She has also agreed to look through our rogues' gallery to see if she can
identify the man. Once Mrs. Watt has narrowed the possibilities, I shall have to ask you and Mrs.
Veryan to look through them."

"Certainly. Any time." I took in the implications. "Does that mean you're no longer
claiming I faked the burglary?"

He heaved a sigh. "It never seemed likely, lass."

Lass? Progress. Should I press my advantage? "It would be a relief to have my passport
back."

He reached into his breast pocket, drew out the slim blue passport, and handed it to me
without comment.

"Thanks," I murmured, playing it cool, though the relief I felt surprised me. Was I so
dependent on external validation of my identity that I couldn't be without my passport for
forty-eight hours? A depressing thought.

I caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye of Jay sneaking back to the bedroom. "Uh,
would you like a cup of tea or coffee? I have the feeling my husband will want something
soon."

"I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea."

"Coming up." I slipped out to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I had laid in a supply of
herbal tea for Jay. I was fairly sure Thorne would find that insulting, so I filled the regular teapot
with hot water from the tap to warm it properly and tried to remember Daphne's lecture on tea
making. Ann's packet of Twining's would have to do.

By the time I readied the tray, Jay had got himself dressed. He emerged as I carried the
refreshments into the living room. Thorne rose.

I set the tray down and performed introductions. Jay shook hands with Thorne and Sgt.
Baylor, and I creamed and sugared according to everyone's preference. I even took a cup of
Twining's breakfast blend myself. I thought it tasted all right.

The two men had begun those skirmishes of professional courtesy men have to go
through before they can deal with each other without reaching for their swords. Sgt. Baylor and I
listened, like good hinds. She was not taking notes.

"I hear you're a policeman yourself, Mr. Dodge," Thorne said heavily.

Jay shot me a glance. "I was, sir, for some years. Now I run a training program."

"An academy, eh?"

"I suppose that would be the equivalent term. I still do some consulting work for the
county CID."

"You're a friend of Detective Chief Inspector Belknap, I believe."

"We've corresponded. Harry invited me to deliver a paper at a conference he organized
up north. I don't know the fine points of British procedure, so when the assault occurred on the
subway I called him to see what Lark's obligations as a witness may be--whether she'll be
required to return for a trial, that sort of thing."

"Happen she'll be called," said Inspector Thorne, "if we make an arrest." He took a
hearty swallow of tea.

That I'd have to testify in court hadn't occurred to me. More travel expenses. I squirmed
in my chair.

"So Harry said. He was very helpful."

"He called me." Thorne spoke in neutral tones, but the reproach was evident. Invasion of
territory.

"I'm sure he thought he owed you the courtesy, sir. He wouldn't want you to think he
was interfering with your witness." Jay sipped at the brew he favors.

"Hrrmph. Well, I don't mind admitting I was taken aback by Mrs. Dodge's proximity to
murder as well as assault and burglary. However, I've done some checking." Thorne cocked an
eyebrow.

Jay smiled slightly. "Normal procedure."

"Aye." Thorne took a final gulp of tea and set his cup down. "Both ladies came up clean,
and a new witness has come forward in the assault case. Her evidence tallies with what Mrs.
Veryan and Mrs. Dodge reported. I've returned Mrs. Dodge's passport, and I trust there's no ill
feeling, but I'll have to ask her to notify me if she leaves London." He turned to me, adding with
heavy good humor. "Even for Gatwick Airport."

Jay's eyebrows shot up. "Good God, Lark."

I said, "I realize now I should have called Inspector Thorne. I'm sorry." I did my best to
look meek and repentant. It's possible that I fooled Thorne. In any case, he let the matter
drop.

"I believe you were with the Los Angeles police at one time, Mr. Dodge."

"For ten years." Jay looked wary. He left the LAPD after he was caught in a crossfire
between a sniper and the SWAT team. Technically he retired on a disability pension. The Los
Angeles experience was a sore point. "I'm from LA. I trained there."

Thorne's eyes gleamed. It turned out he was a devotee of all the ancient cop shows
filmed in Los Angeles. He was full of questions, but most of them involved gross violations of
normal police procedure in TV's version of reality. Starting with
Dragnet
.

Jay answered him patiently. Pretty soon they were sharing a laugh at the absurdities of
Hollywood, and Jay asked several flattering questions about Scotland Yard. I thought that was all
to the good. It was obvious that I was not going to do any bonding with Thorne myself. Jay
might as well. I'm in favor of male bonding. I poured everyone more tea.

However, when they got to
Rumpole of the Bailey
I decided it was time to
rescue Sgt. Baylor.

I let the last anecdote run its course. When the chuckles died down, I said, "I hope Sgt.
Wilberforce relayed my concern about Milos Vlaçek's disappearance, Inspector."

Thorne turned to me, his features reassembling in the professional mask. "Ah."

"I saw the man who handed Milos the papers at the Barbican."

"Oh, aye. So Wilberforce said."

"He told me to butt out," I said bluntly. "I presume that means you have no interest in
what the man said."

Thorne's eyes narrowed. "You spoke to him?" He jerked his head at Sgt. Baylor.

When she had set her cup down and taken her notebook from her purse, I gave Thorne
as thorough an account as I could of what the man in the bomber jacket said before he hopped on
the bus. Thorne was noncommittal. He asked one or two questions about the man's appearance
but didn't seem very interested in what he had said about the papers.

"Is Hambly a town?" I asked.

"I don't recall a town of that name," Thorne replied. "Do you, sergeant?"

"No. The man spoke with a foreign accent..."

Frustrated, I got up and started collecting cups and saucers. "Is Milos in protective
custody, Inspector Thorne? Ann is terribly upset about his disappearance. I'm worried, too."

"Mr. Vlaçek was released from hospital at his own request," Thorne said. "He's
not in custody."

"Do you know where he is?"

He was silent for a moment, frowning down at his hands. Finally he met my eyes. "No, I
do not, Mrs. Dodge. He left St. Botolph's in a private ambulance."

"That's a relief! Where was he taken?"

Thorne shook his head. "I don't know, and if the hospital staff know they aren't saying. I
sent a constable to question his landlady, but she's seen nowt of Mr. Vlaçek since before
the accident. She's, er, concerned about the rent. His mates at the Hanover haven't heard from
him either."

"Has a missing person report been filed?"

"Mr. Vlaçek is an adult, lass, and he's not wanted for any crime. He is probably at
a private nursing home, or in the care of friends. I have questions for him, to be sure. Whoever is
caring for him is bound to make contact with the hospital in a day or two about his National
Health benefits. If not, I'll put out the word that he's wanted for questioning."

"He's still very ill."

"He was in a recovery ward when he, er, discharged himself. His surgeon and Matron
advised him not to leave, but he insisted. And he was moved in an ambulance." Thorne rose.
"Sergeant Baylor and I must be off."

I thanked Thorne for what he had told me of Milos. I was relieved but not completely
satisfied. I had the feeling that Thorne was holding something back, but I could think of no way
to persuade him to tell me anything he didn't want to tell me.

We shook hands all around, and Thorne offered to take Jay out for a beer with the boys
when the investigation was over. They didn't clap each other on the back, but they might as well
have.

Jay gave me a mild scold for not reporting my Gatwick excursion to Thorne, but his
heart wasn't in it. I didn't take umbrage. When I had fed us breakfast, we walked over to the
Victoria and Albert, by way of doing our touristly duty. I thought he'd probably run out of steam
when his body reminded him it was the wee small hours at home, and I was right. He yawned his
way around the V and A, though the marvelous rooms that look like an architectural rummage
sale tickled him. We looked at the Mogul paintings, and that was enough of that for the time
being.

He revived briefly in the open air, so I made him go shopping with me. I thought he
ought to meet Daphne and Trevor, and we were out of wine. I dragged him down the Old
Brompton Road to a wine specialty shop. Daphne, I knew, would drink anything short of hair
tonic, but Trevor's tastes were probably more finicky. I bought a good burgundy and a white
bordeaux, which Jay carried for me, and we both browsed among the paperbacks at Waterstone's.
We stopped at the grocery store, and at the butcher shop for lamb chops, and I laid in cheese and
water biscuits at the deli. By that time Jay was a zombie, so I took him home and tucked him
in.

I wrote Daphne a note, explaining that Jay had come, and inviting her and Trevor for a
glass of wine after dinner. Then I went back to my
Independent
to see if I could figure
out where the press had got to. The President of Nigeria was making a state visit, which meant
the queen and royal carriages and a parade. I felt a twinge of regret that I wouldn't get to see the
fun, but it was nice to know the press had some sense of proportion.

I woke Jay at two-thirty. He grumbled but got up, and we had sandwiches. Ann came in
about an hour later with more pamphlets and booklets, and she looked so discouraged I was glad
I could at least assure her that Milos's abductors had carried him off in an ambulance.

I ought to have prepared her for the news. She collapsed on the zebra couch, her face as
pale as milk. I thought she was going to faint.

I leapt up and hurried over to her. "Are you all right?"

"Hush. Let me think." She took off her glasses and rubbed her face with both hands.
"Oh, lord, I wish I could think."

Jay had got up and gone to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and another of
the burgundy I had opened to breathe before dinner.

Ann took the wine glass and drained half of it at a gulp. Gradually her color came back.
In fact she began to look flushed.

"I thought you'd be glad about the ambulance," I said, bewildered.

"Oh, honey, I am. Believe me. It's just that I don't know what to do now."

"Why don't you tell us what's on your mind, Ann?" Jay is trained to negotiate with
hostage-takers, distraught snipers, and would-be suicides. I recognized the warm, unthreatening
tone of voice.

Ann responded like a rose in a spring rain. "You'll think I'm a fool, I reckon, but I've
been so worried. Yesterday I was having lunch in the British Museum cafeteria and talking with
this nice Englishman who happened to sit at my table. He was doing research on the medieval
manuscripts at the museum."