Death Under the Lilacs by Richard; Forrest Page B

much attention.”
    â€œYes, I did.”
    â€œHow did we afford it?”
    â€œIt’s complicated. I’ll explain later.”
    â€œThen you didn’t need the lilacs,” she said with another yawn. “He would have told you where I was when he got the ransom.”
    â€œI guess,” Lyon said. He didn’t tell her that the letter containing her location had never arrived. Nor had there been a further tape or phone call. He wondered how and when he could tell her about the sale of Nutmeg Hill.
    â€œI feel funny, Wentworth.”
    â€œWe’re sure to get a ride to the hospital in a few minutes. Can you last that long?”
    She laughed with a voice that skirted the edge of hysteria. “Oh, sure. Why not? I’ve lasted this long and it isn’t dark anymore. Did you know that I was afraid of the dark?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t,” he replied softly.
    â€œWell, I am. Never knew it before. I mean, even as a little girl I never cowered under the covers to get away from the monsters. There is a bogeyman, Went. He’s out there somewhere. He’s lurking in the bushes or behind the rocks and trees or in a van ready to spirit us away to some dark place.”
    Lyon did not answer.
    â€œHe got me. Boy, and how he did. In the beginning he looked at me with a strange sort of lascivious glare.… I thought my honor was ready to fall, and I didn’t even have a tower to fling myself from.” She laughed aloud. “But he didn’t. I guess I turned him off, and so my honor remains intact. Pleased to hear that, Wentworth?”
    â€œI’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
    â€œHurt? No way. A little chain on the old wrist.” She clanked the chain curled at her feet. “Maybe I’ll leave it on as a sort of reminder of how vulnerable I am.”
    Lyon tried to speak, but his throat was tight and swollen, and the words wouldn’t come. “It’s going to be all right,” he was finally able to mutter. “The hospital … maybe a shot of something.” A pickup clattered down the road toward them. “Maybe we have a ride,” Lyon said as he stood to flag down the truck.
    â€œThey wouldn’t let me see her.”
    Lyon looked up from his fourth cup of bitter hospital cafeteria coffee to see Rocco Herbert looming over him. He stood and put an arm around his large friend. “Are you all right?”
    â€œA few minor glass wounds in my neck and a bad case of embarrassment over letting the bastard get away.” He straddled a chair. “What’s with Bea?”
    â€œShe seemed all right when I first found her, but became quite depressed by the time we arrived here. They have her under sedation and are trying to balance her fluids and cure a mild case of dehydration.”
    â€œThen she’s going to be all right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI haven’t had time to get the details yet. How in the hell did you find her?”
    Lyon told him how Bea managed to indicate her location with the lilac clue.”
    â€œOne smart lady,” Rocco said. “Thank God you got to her in time.”
    â€œWhat happened in London is disappointing. Everyone seemed to be sure you’d grab the guy when he made the pickup.”
    â€œHe outsmarted us. He did something we weren’t prepared for. We had the Hotel Dalton, where the drop was made, covered with the proverbial goddamn blanket. Yard guys all over the place, FBI observers and me watching from across the street with a spotter scope. I saw your letter, with the stamps, put into a room mailbox. I had my scope trained on it when the damn bomb went off.”
    â€œYou’re lucky your eyes weren’t hurt by flying glass.”
    â€œThe Yard guy posing as the room clerk lost an eye. There was someone in the hotel who knew when the bomb was going off and who grabbed the letter from the box and ran.”
    â€œAnd there’s no trace of