Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil (17 page)

Loud honks filled the room as Hildy and Holly burst through the patio screen and flew at Angus in a flurry of grey feathers and yellow beaks. They nipped his butt and pecked his nose. He flailed at them and they scattered, leaving a trail of white droppings that wasn’t popcorn. They huddled near the pantry door, goose-mumbling while they regrouped.

I stepped up to the plate or in this case the back of Angus’ red head. I wound into a batter’s stance, but then fearing murder charges, I held my swing. Hildy and Holly attacked again, this time both going for his face. I slammed the bull into his calves. He fell to the floor screaming. I shooed the geese away from his head.

Roger flopped on his sofa, holding his head. “Did we just attack a Met detective?”

“We’ll sort that out later. Now let’s tie his hands and call the meat wagon to get this nut job out of here.”

Twenty-minutes later, Angus exited on a stretcher, wearing a set of sturdy metal handcuffs.

Chapter 44

R
oger and I fell asleep side by side on his bed, exhausted and fully clothed, and slept till noon. I looked at him and smiled.

He smiled back. “You look like something I once dug up in the Sahara,” he said.

“And you wonder why you’re not getting any action.”

“That was a compliment.”

I rolled out of bed and picked through my suitcase. I pulled out my black jersey dress, sandals, and cosmetic bag.

“Stop! Bad goose!” I yelled to frighten Hildy who was scampering off with my purple ribbon top. She snapped her beak at me. Hildy was the delinquent in our set of geese.

“Showering,” I said to Roger who was up and working on the coffee maker. The warm water eased my aching muscles. I’d done some serious damage to my fingers sliding that sarcophagus lid, and I pulled a tendon in my wrist while clocking Angus with the bronze bull. This Tomb Raider stuff was demanding. I ran a comb through my hair, patted some lotion on my face, and flooded my eyes with drops.

I stepped over the goose poop as I worked my way to the kitchen. “Girls you have to do better. Use the newspaper.” Hildy and Holly cocked their heads in mirror images of each other as if to show they were trying.

Roger sat at the table, both hands cupped around a mug. I poured myself some coffee and joined him. He scrunched up his eyes and frowned. I wanted to kiss those eyes and lips.

“I keep thinking about the look of betrayal on Angus’ face when the Met came for him last night. I had to turn him in.”

“That was a look of murder, not betrayal. He would have killed us both if he’d been armed.”

“I had no idea he was still caught up with those people in the Society. If I were a better friend, I would have known. I would have stopped him.”

Walking up behind him, I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Roger, you can’t protect everyone all the time. It’s not possible.”

He’d lost more than a good friend in Angus; he’d lost faith in his ability to save the people he cared about. Benny was a mentor and friend, as well as a client, and he was gone. And Darcy was still missing.

He pulled me closer and planted a tasty kiss on my mouth. This time I was more than ready. I returned kiss for kiss while unfastening the belt on my dress. Roger stood and we continued the kiss. Now we were getting somewhere.

My cell phone rang, doing its
Pink Panther
thing. “Hold that thought,” I said as I put my finger to Roger’s lips. I grabbed the phone from the kitchen counter. The caller ID read Unknown, which meant the States.

“It’s me. Treanna.”

She sounded so sad.

“Are you still helping your friend?”

“I am. He needs me a bit longer.”

She hesitated. I thought perhaps she was going to hang up. “What’s his name?”

I imagined this was about keeping me on the line. “His name is Roger.”

“Can I talk to Roger?”

“Sure.” I handed the phone to Roger who was groaning from caller-interruptus. Eyebrows raised in question, he took the phone.

He listened for a moment, then clicked off.

“What did she say?”

“‘Please send Wendy home. I need her more than you do.’ Then she hung up.”

My lips found his, and my hands held his face as I attempted to kiss away his hurt feelings. I’d just gotten into the sexier bits, when Roger’s phone rang.

“Please ignore it,” I mumbled into his chest.

“I can’t. It might be about Darcy.”

“You just said the D-word.” I pushed him away.

He held up his hand to hush me. “I see. In Wandsworth? I know exactly where it is. No, she has no family. I’ll take responsibility. I understand.” He hung up.

I waited, although I was full of questions. “They have an unidentified woman in the Black Tower Mental Asylum. She fits Darcy’s description. I have to go.” Roger looked bewildered as he went into this bedroom and closed the door. Standing outside the door, I felt lonely for the first time in my life.

Twenty minutes later Roger stepped from his room. He looked as if he’d aged ten years. “I’m coming with you,” I said and tucked my arm into his. He called for a taxi and we went downstairs to wait.

He sat in the corner of the cab with no body contact. I tried to lighten the mood. “We could write a book.
How to Save the World Between Lunch and Dinner
.”

“I’ll have a think on it,” he said.

“Kick ‘em in the balls every time they get to their knees,” I mumbled nonsense, knowing he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to me.

We’d been traveling in silence for about twenty minutes when Roger spoke. “You understand what this means? I’ll have to take Darcy in. She has no one else.”

“Don’t jump to the rescue yet. We don’t know how bad off she is.”

My emotions were tied in a Gordian knot. I shivered, despite the inadequacy of the cab’s air conditioner in fighting heat steaming from the pavement.

Chapter 45

W
e arrived at the Black Tower Asylum just after two o’clock. The hospital was quiet, except for the occasional scream. We went through metal detectors to get to the reception desk encased in thick glass. The lady behind the desk looked as if nothing could faze her. She ran our IDs under a scanner and returned them to us.

“Dr. Sigmund is expecting you. Take the elevator to floor nine.”

We walked down a long hall to a bank of steel-door elevators and rode up in silence. While the concern on Roger’s face was breaking my heart, I remained fully alert, prepared for an assortment of psychos I was sure would jump into the elevator brandishing knives. A soft ding announcing our arrival at the ninth floor took me out of my worry trance.

The door slid open, revealing a Geppetto-like man, concern written on his apple-doll face. “I’m Dr. Sigmund,” he extended his hand. Roger shook it. I made note to remind him to wash it later. Hospitals are the germiest places.

The doctor pulled us to the side of the corridor and spoke in a low voice. “The patient, Miss X, was in a state of hysteria when the police brought her in. We’ve had her sedated for almost a week. She’s not been able to remember who she is.”

Roger frowned. “If you keep her zonked, how do you expect her to remember her name?”

The doctor shook his head. “The patient is delusional and imagines herself to be Cleopatra. She’s expecting Mark Antony… the Roman… not the singer… to liberate her.”

The plot was thickening like a pot of week-old curry.
My
archaeologist was going to have to take in
his
archaeologist… leaving me out in the heat. We’d see about that.

Roger was sweating, his pupils looked very small. Sigmund put his arm under Roger’s. “Don’t pass out on me, son.”

“He’s had a rough patch the last few days,” I said, wondered if he was having a delayed reaction to the truth serum or if he really cared that much about Miss Dingbat.

“Darcy’s a diagnosed schizophrenic,” Roger said. “She takes a couple of medications to keep her rational. We have reason to believe she was given truth serum just before her disappearance.”

The doctor looked stunned. “What fool did that? The drug interaction could have caused her memory loss and illogical behavior.” He studied Roger as if appraising him. “Are you sure you can handle her? She’s a zaftig lady. It took three orderlies to pin her to the bed.”

Roger shot him a disgusted look. Sigmund caught it.

“We can release her to you since you say she has no family and you are her close friend. When I told… Darcy – and may I ask her last name?”

“Bone. Darcy Bone.”

“When I told Miss Bone you were coming, she seemed to brighten at your name, but she still doesn’t know her own.”

We followed Sigmund into a room at the end of the hall. It was painted a soft shade of blue. The bed linens were the same color, as were the gauzy curtains on the windows. Even the air in the room felt blue. Spa-like meditation music was playing in the background.

Darcy, wearing a sky blue robe with the edge of a nightie showing at her kneecaps, sat in a chair by the window. She looked rested and happy as she flashed a brilliant smile at Roger. “I knew you’d find me!” she said as she stood and wobble-walked into his arms. Her mane of shoulder length hair was in perfect blow-dry style, her nails manicured. I wondered if the asylum had a beauty salon.

“I remember!” she said into his shoulder. “I’m Darcy Bone! I’m a brilliant archaeologist!”

That’s when I knew the rat was hiding in the bag. I just needed to shake it.

I leaned on the edge of the nightstand to steady myself. It was a tender moment, enough to piss anyone off.

I locked eyes with Darcy. She stuck her tongue out at me.

Looking uncomfortable, Roger pulled away from her. He glanced at me. I gave him the blankest look I could muster.

Sigmund tugged on Roger’s sleeve. “Dr. Jolley, come to my office. There are some forms you must sign to take custody of Miss Bone.”

“I’ll stay here with Darcy. Help her get ready to leave,” I said.

Roger shot me a quizzical look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I smiled.

As soon as the door closed behind Roger and Sigmund, Darcy plotzed down into her chair.

It was time to lure the rat out of the bag. “It will be lovely to have you stay with us. The guest room is all yours.” I grinned as I lied. “We’ll put a television in your room. Maybe get you a hospital bed. Of course, you’ll be confined to the flat, so we’ll put your all clothes in storage. Perhaps get you some comfy pajamas. Ooo! I’d love to help you bleach your hair.”

Darcy’s blue eyes turned green as they bent into a hellacious glare. She had the mien of an angry elephant prodded with a bull hook. One more button to push and she was going down.

“I apologize in advance for the noises you’ll hear. Roger and I have been having wild monkey-sex, and I know it’s going to continue,” I lied a tiny bit more.

Darcy’s eyes went into a spin, much as they had that first day we met. She growled and leaped forward, coming at me with her red-nailed hands aimed for my neck. I yanked open the door and ran into the corridor. She chased after me, her bare feet making an obscene slapping sound on the tile floor.

I howled as she jumped on my back bringing me down. She pulled my hair while I struggled to scratch some part of her. Roger and Dr. Sigmund came running. Two male nurses appeared and dragged her off me. I oomphed as I struggled to get the air back in my lungs.

Dr. Sigmund shook his head. “I can’t release Miss Bone in this condition. Perhaps being off the medicine for her schizophrenia has unhinged her.”

Roger looked relieved. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for her actions.”

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from grinning.

As we exited the hospital hand in hand, I felt the first few drops of cooling rain.

Chapter 46

W
e had an early dinner at the George and Dragon. As we exited the pub, I couldn’t help but smile remembering Treanna’s concern that I would be eaten by a dragon while I was in England.

Back at the flat, Roger slipped under the sheets and into bed. I was already waiting. This had been so long in coming, I now felt shy, too much expectation riding on one sexual encounter that might lead to more, if I liked it.

Hildy poked her head onto the pillow giving me that beady “I’m watching you” look. It would be impossible to get passionate with two fowls waiting for a strike. Holly stood beside her partner, ready to back her play.

“Girls, I’m safe. This is okay. Trust me.”

Holly waddled closer and tilted her head. “You heard me. Now get out of here. Scoot.” I heard Roger groaning under his pillow.

“They grow on you, don’t they?” I pulled the pillow from his head.

“No, they don’t. But other things do.” He slipped his arm under my neck pulling me close. “Alone at last,” he said, his left arm gliding over my stomach. We exchanged a gentle kiss and then stared into each other’s eyes enjoying the moment.

The sound of the
Pink Panther
broke the spell.

“Don’t get it,” he said.

“I have to. It might be my lonely child.” I stretched to the night table and grabbed my cell phone.

It was Matty. “Come home, quick!” Her voice was breaking up – bad connection or hysteria. “Treanna’s missing!”

I sat upright in bed, pushing Roger away. My heart beat like a trip-hammer and guilt flooded my veins.

“Matty, have you called the police?”

She mumbled what sounded like “not yet.”

“Call them now! I’ll be there as soon as I can catch a plane. Stay calm.” I clicked off wondering if Mr. Smith was somehow involved.

Roger must have followed my conversation. He stood next to the bed trying to pull on his slacks while Hildy was fighting him for one pant leg. She honked an order at him. She was definitely the alpha goose in our flock.

“Treanna’s missing!” I could feel hot tears. My eyes deserved to burn. I should have been with her and not shacked up with my archaeologist.

“I’m coming with you. I’ll book our flights while you throw some things in a bag.”

“Don’t need a bag. I’ll leave my things here. Just call a taxi. We’ll get the tickets at Gatwick.” Although the child wasn’t mine, I was a mother lion racing to protect a baby. “What about the girls? Can we take them?”