Heart Wounds (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) (25 page)

Dr. Swift’s mouth opened in horror. “
What on earth are you trying to say, Ms. Steele? Do you think I’m lying? I’ve told you…Oh.” He got that faraway look again.

Parker got to his feet. “What is it, Professor Swift?”

“I see. I’d forgotten that as well. There was an argument. Well, not a bad one. But afterwards he did say it wasn’t fair for Neville to get the coin.”

Miranda’s heart began to race. “Mr. Eames told you that?”

Slowly Dr. Swift shook his head. The minutes ticked by as he connected the memories like a logic problem. At last he spoke again, his voice more somber than before. “No, not George. Trenton. It was Trenton who was jealous.”

She sank back into her chair.
Trenton Jewell?

“Are you sure it was Mr. Jewell?” Parker asked.

“Yes. He wanted to be in archaeology like George and Neville. Just didn’t have the mind for it. I didn’t either of course, but I never cared for the field…Come to think of it. That was when Trenton changed his course of study.”

“Changed
? Wasn’t he a law student?”

“No.
He started out in archaeology, too. He turned to law after Professor Kent gave Neville the coin. I suppose he thought it suited him better. Turns out it did. I hear he’s very successful as a barrister.”

Miranda’s head was spinning. She glanced over at Parker and saw him frozen in front of the desk
, his jaw tight.

The professor blinked at
both of them with a boyish expression very close to guilt. “Have I told you what you came here to learn? I hope I haven’t said anything I shouldn’t have.”

“No,
you haven’t, Professor Swift.” Parker assured him, recovering with a polite smile and a final handshake. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Parker drove back to London breaking speed limits all the way. But the whole trip Miranda fidgeted and tore at her hair, wishing they had wings or a police copter or a supersonic jet.

“He lied to me. Right there on his floor
bleeding all over me while I was saving his life, that bastard lied to me.”

Parker didn’t reply but she heard a low rumble from his chest while he scowled at the road ahead.

Couldn’t this car go any faster? “He has the dagger. He has to. Scorpion had been Jewell’s client. Jewell must have made some kind of deal with him and then tried to double-cross him.”

“But it didn’t work.”

She waved her hands in exasperation. “No. That’s why Shrivel left him alive. If Jewell didn’t give up the dagger, it would be worse next time, just like he threathened him. And here I thought Shrivel was just a lousy shot.”

Parker held the wheel steady as the
y sped around a long curve. “Scorpion’s not the type to trifle with. If Jewell doesn’t give him what he wants, he may not stay alive long.”

So they’d have to save his ass again to get the dagger back. That sucked. Her mind began to wander
back to yesterday afternoon. “Did Shrivel kill Lady Gabrielle as a warning to Jewell?”

Parker considered that a long moment.
“Perhaps. She said he was a friend of her family.”

“She said he’d gotten her off on DUIs.
And she knew about the dagger’s security at the museum from Sir Neville.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed as it hit him the same time it did her. “She was in on it.”

“She passed the information about the code and the keycard to Jewell, who passed it to Shrivel.”

“Who threatened Toby Waverly for it.”

“Oh, God. That really was Shrivel who called Lady Gabrielle yesterday. He was trying to find out if she had the dagger. And when she said she didn’t know, he killed her.”

“Or he told her Jewell had it and then she was expendable and knew too much.”

Crazy, reckless young woman. If only they could have figured this much out before. If only they could have saved her.

Miranda chewed on her lower lip as her
troubled thoughts chewed on her stomach lining all the way back to the city. It was afternoon when they reached the outskirts and Parker headed straight for the hospital where Jewell had been taken last night.

Parker had gotten the name from one of the paramedics and had called and checked on him before they left town this morning. The report was he’d come out of surgery all right and would live. Not if she could get her hands on him.

“They probably won’t let us in,” she moaned as they hurried through the front door.

“Not if I can help it.”

###

Inside
the hospital, Parker worked his magic and got Jewell’s room number. But the nurse at the ICU station on the third floor was a different story.

She studied them with a weary gaze and shook her head. “I’m so sor
ry Mr. Parker, Ms. Steele, but—.”

“We’re
here on official business,” Miranda said, resisting the urge to pound her fist on the counter.

The woman’s shoulders sagged.
“I’m afraid it isn’t that.”

Miranda frowned. What new trick was this?
“What is it then?”

The nurse pressed her hand to her face and Miranda saw the
heavy shadows under her eyes. “Mr. Jewell’s dead.”

What?
“We were told he came through surgery last night and would survive.”

“No, that’s not what happened.
He must have woken up and…” Her gaze shifted to a small waiting area across the hall. She raised her arm and pointed with a ghostlike gesture at the television.

Miranda turned around, stepped across
the floor and into the room to get a better look. On the screen the reporter that had attacked her yesterday was standing in a subway station, microphone in hand.

“According to tube officials, the
tragedy occurred at 5:02 this morning, just as the first train passed through.”

The picture switched to a
witness. A middle-aged man in street clothes wearing a look of terror. “It were awful. Bloody awful. The conductor tried to stop but there was no time. The man leapt off the platform right in front of him.”

Back to the reporter. “Paramedics tried to revive the man but his injuries were too great.
Unfortunately, he expired on the spot. When police arrived on the scene, they identified the body as London barrister Trenton Jewell.”

They headed back to Scotland Yard. Where else could they go for answers?

Half an hour later they were
again in Inspector Wample’s office, sitting across from the two haggard-looking officers of the Crown.

The tang of death and defeat hung in the air like the London fog.

“Inspector,” Parker began. “We have reason to believe Trenton Jewell was involved—”

Wample raised a hand. “We know, Mr. Parker.”

Miranda glared at the man.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, then opened a file on his desk
. He took out a sheet of paper and handed it to Parker. “He left a suicide note.”

Parker scanned it, passed it to Miranda.

Her breath growing rapid, her gut tense, she dared to look down on it. As she read the neat script-like handwriting and spoke the bone-chilling words out loud, her skin felt as cold as ice.

I, Trenton Bartholomew Jewell, being of sound mind and body—save for
the pain from my recent gunshot wounds and surgery—do with this instrument confess my crimes against humanity, against the Crown, against my friends.

For these long decades, I have carried within me a deep, abiding resentment against my
university friend, Sir Neville Ravensdale. I tried to deny it, contain it, wrestle with it, but to no avail. Over the years, the resentment grew to jealousy, the jealousy to envy, the envy to hatred.

Neville had everything I wanted. He was favored by professors at school. He was gifted in the profession I longed to follow but had no talent for. He took the woman I secretly loved as his bride.
He was knighted for his accomplishments. With each success Neville had, the more my ire for him festered.

Miranda put her fingers to her lips suddenly remembering Lady Davinia said Jewell had proposed to her.

And when he discovered the priceless Marc Antony dagger, my loathing for him bubbled over and broke open like a cancerous boil on my heart.

When I heard Lady Gabrielle Eaton joke at a party that it would be funny if the dagger wer
e stolen, I saw my opportunity.

Miranda looked at Parker. “She was involved.”

He nodded. She read on.

I knew Lady Gabrielle. I sought her out and told her if the dagger were to be stolen, Neville’s marriage to her mother-in-law would be over in a few months
, and it would make her husband happy. And I secretly hoped Lady Davinia might turn to me again.

I knew
of Lady Gabrielle’s husband’s dislike for Neville. Everyone in their circle did. I knew Lionel Halsing, Earl of Eaton had a wandering eye, and Lady Gabrielle would do anything to win back his affections.

But she turned me down. She said she couldn’t pull something like that off. I tried to reassure her she could, but she refused.

Miranda ground her teeth. That bastard. That dirty bastard.

And so I turned to my more distasteful connections. I contacted a former client of mine. A man who goes by the name of Scorpion. The police know who he is.
He was more than willing to do the deed, plus he knew a fence who would dispose of the dagger. We agreed to split the profit.

A short time later Lady Gabrielle called me
. Even though she still couldn’t do what I had asked, she had discovered the details of the dagger’s security at the museum. I passed the information on to Scorpion.

And then the dagger was stolen.

I saw the look on Neville’s face in the newspaper. I expected to feel a surge of triumph. Instead there was only shame and guilt. What had I done?

And then Scorpion contacted me and said the dagger was a fake. I had double-crossed him. I was terrified. I had no idea what he meant. Then he said the inscription
I had described to him was missing. He demanded to know how I knew about it. I panicked and told him Lady Gabrielle had told me about the real dagger’s inscription.

Miranda put a hand to her face. “Oh, my God. He signed her death warrant.”

“There’s more,” Parker said gently.

Then I realized she must have changed her mind and taken the dagger herself. I confronted her. She swore she hadn’t taken it. I didn’t believe her. I threatened her. I told her the American detectives were onto her game and she would be arrested soon.

That was why she tried to injure Ms. Steele at the polo match. Scorpion called and made more threats. I feared for my life. I behaved like a coward. I told him Lady Gabrielle had the dagger. I gave him her mobile number. It’s because of me that she’s dead.

Damn straight
.

Scorpion sent someone after her. I’m respo
nsible. I don’t deserve to live.

They’re going to kill me anyway.

The script was getting hard to read now. Jewell must have been in horrendous pain. The only way he could have managed to get out of the hospital and to the subway was through a powerful, terror-driven adrenaline rush.

I don’t know where the real dagger is. I never saw it. By my barrister’s oath, for what it’s worth now, I never saw it.

I know I must pay for what I’ve done. But I will not go at the hand of a criminal. I will meet whatever punishment the afterlife has for me by my own hand. I will end it at daybreak.

Trenton Jewell

Miranda raised her head and found her eyes were full of tears. A confession from the grave. What a travesty. What a waste of life.

She handed the paper back to Wample. “He says he doesn’t know where the dagger is.”

Wample’s expression turned sour. “We don’t believe him. We’ve learned a hundred thousand pounds was recently deposited into Jewell’s bank account.”

That was a tidy sum. Still, too small for a priceless dagger.
“But how—?”

“
Our theory is that Jewell was working with someone in the delivery company. I’ve had men searching Jewell’s flat and his law offices all morning. There’s no sign of the dagger. We don’t expect to recover the relic,” Wample said. “We believe he sold it. After we conclude our routine investigation of Jewell’s death, the Marc Antony case is closed.”

Parker’s face was hard. “What about the murder?”

“We have not yet located our suspect Shrivel. We have men canvassing the area near his residence.”

“What about this Scorpion creep?” Miranda wanted to know.

“We can hardly arrest him on the letter of a dead man. The defence would laugh us out of court.”