Bicycle Built for Two (41 page)

Billy heaved a gigantic sigh. “It’s Alex,”
he said, fuddling Kate the more.

“Alex? I thought you said it was Pa?”

Walter turned around. “It’s both of them.
The police are questioning Alex about Pa’s death. Evidently, they
were fighting, and Pa fell out the window of your apartment.”

Mary Jo gasped.

So did Kate.

“So,” Billy said, taking over from his older
brother, “I think it would be a good idea for you to come down to
the police station with us. We just left there. Sol Schneider’s the
one who fetched us. Mickey O’Brien called on him as soon as it
happened.”

Kate was having a hard time making heads or
tails of this story. “But what was Pa doing in my apartment?”

“Tearing it up, apparently,” Walter said
drily. “You know Pa.”

“Yeah,” said Kate, pushing herself up from
her chair. “I know Pa, more’s the pity.”

“Well, I guess none of us will have to worry
about him any longer,” Billy said brightly, as if he were trying to
cheer up his siblings.

Mary Jo gasped again and clutched her
dressing gown at her throat. Sliding her a look, Kate understood
why she’d gasped. Innocent little Mary Jo couldn’t conceive of
anyone being pleased about a parent’s passing. Which just went to
show one more time how their lives differed in every single
particular.

Because she felt she owed at least a partial
explanation to this child, this sister of the man she loved, Kate
went over to her and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Mary Jo. I
guess I’ll have to go with my brothers. We’ll be back as soon as
possible.”

“But what about Alex?” Mary Jo sounded
panicky.

“I guess he’s at the police station.” Kate
slid a glance at her brothers, both of whom nodded. “Yes. He’s at
the police station. I’ll—we’ll—” They’d what? Kate had no idea.
Feeling helpless, she looked to her brothers for assistance.

“I’m sure it’ll be all right, Miss English,”
said Walter politely. “I’m sure it was all our father’s fault, and
that any misunderstandings can be cleared up presently.”

“Absolutely,” Kate agreed with more force
than she felt. She couldn’t even conceive of Alex doing something
wrong, but anything having to do with her father must be
suspect.

“Our father’s a no-good buzzard,” Billy
said, grinning as he did so. “And Alex is a good guy. I’m sure
there’s not going to be a problem.”

Kate wished she shared her light-hearted
younger brother’s optimism. “Right. I’ll walk you back to your
room, Mary Jo. Just wait there, and I’ll be back as soon as
possible.”

“Well, I really think I ought to go with
you,” Mary Jo said, sounding as if she was going to be stubborn
about it. “After all, we’re talking about my brother, too, don’t
forget.”

Kate eyed her without favor. Her nerves were
crackling like fat over an open fire, and she didn’t want to have
to fuss with a spoiled adolescent rich girl right now. “Listen,
Mary Jo. My father just died, and I want to find out what happened.
I don’t want to wait for you to get dressed. We’ll be back as soon
as possible, bringing Alex with us.” She prayed she hadn’t just
lied.

But Mary Jo was having none of it. She said,
“I’m going with you. It will only take a few minutes for me to
dress. Don’t go without me. Alex will be furious if you leave me
here alone.”

Kate knew that was only one more argument
and that it probably held no weight, but the notion of Alex getting
mad at her didn’t appeal. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! All right, I’ll
help you. But if you dawdle, I’m leaving without you.”

Kate hustled Mary Jo to her room and threw
clothes at her. Kate blessed her brothers for not scolding her
about being impatient with the girl. Both Walter and Billy were
inclined to get chivalrous at inconvenient times, and Kate didn’t
feel like being scolded any more than she felt like waiting.

Before they left Mary Jo’s room, Kate
plucked up her own hat and shawl and threw them on, willy-nilly.
Then the Finney siblings and Mary Jo English hurried out of the
hotel, into the cab Walter and Billy had waiting, and rattled on to
the police station.

Kate, who had no decent gloves to wear,
chewed on her nails all the way there. Mary Jo looked as if nothing
this exciting had ever happened to her, and it was all Kate could
do not to shout at her.

Chapter Nineteen

The police station was a
depressing and dingy place. And it smelled bad. Alex’s nose
wrinkled at the aroma, which reminded him of despair: old sweat,
carbolic, and vomit.
Drunks
, he deduced, and was glad
he’d never taken to drink. A pang of regret that his beloved Kate
had grown up in such difficult circumstances smote him.

Kate. He’d like to lay her over his lap and
paddle her luscious rump for being so idiotic and obstinate.
Imagine, refusing to marry him because she imagined she’d ruin his
life. As if she had the power to do that.

Hell’s bells, he’d managed to ruin his life
all on his own, by killing Kate’s dipsomaniacal, revenge-obsessed
father. Although what he thought he needed to be avenged for still
eluded Alex.

With a sigh, he decided he’d better pay
attention to the questions being asked of him.

“So, you’re saying Mr. Finney was already in
the room when you got there?” A bushy-mustachioed police sergeant
was asking the questions, and a younger policeman, who seemed to be
in awe both of his sergeant and of Alex, was taking notes.

The relative courtesy of his inquisitors led
Alex to believe that he was being treated better than most of the
people who ended up being taken to the police station on suspicion
of murder. “Yes.”

“And you say there were other people there,
too? Witnesses, that is to say?”

“A crowd had gathered there, yes, and some
of the men were trying to get him out of the room.” Alex knew good
and well that other policemen had questioned the bystanders, but he
didn’t point this out to the sergeant, sensing the man would react
negatively to such statements from him.

“And the room is his daughter’s place of
residence. Is that correct? Her apartment, that is to say?”
Mustache squinted at Alex, as if he were trying to catch him in a
fib.

“Right. I’d gone there to get some things
for her to wear, because she’s staying with my sister at the
Congress Hotel.”

The policeman seated next to the sergeant
allowed his eyebrows to lift. Alex turned a quelling stare upon
him, and the young man’s eyebrows behaved again at once. Good
thing, too. “Miss Finney and I,” said Alex in a voice as lethal as
he could make it, “are engaged to be married.”

“Is that so?”

The sergeant probably could have looked more
surprised, but Alex doubted it happened often. He was pretty
certain the other policeman was as astounded as he’d ever been.

“Yes,” he said. “That is so.” His tone dared
either man to say anything about his proposed marital plans.

“I see.” The sergeant cleared his throat.
“Do you believe you said anything to provoke the man, Mr.
English?”

Alex snorted. “He was already provoked. He
was behaving like I’ve seen infuriated bulls behave. He was
throwing Miss Finney’s belongings everywhere. I’m surprised he
didn’t paw the ground.”

The sergeant frowned, but the younger
policeman grinned. He didn’t look up, apparently not wanting to
risk his superior’s disfavor, and he kept writing.

Alex went on, “Her brothers had warned us
that their father had been released from jail, and we were worried
for her safety and that of their mother.”

“Her mother?” Mustache squinted at Alex.

“Yes. Mrs. Finney is at present staying at
my farm with my own mother.” There. That ought to give both men
pause.

“I see.” The sergeant’s squint thinned
further, and Alex decided to become more aggressive.

“We took her there because her health is bad
and her husband is a menace.” This time he directed his killing
stare at the sergeant. “The police evidently don’t believe in
guaranteeing the safety of Chicago’s citizens unless the citizens
have lots of money, and the Finney ladies don’t.”

The sergeant cleared his throat, stroked his
mustache, and tried to appear dignified. “Now, Mr. English, that’s
not so. It may seem so to some, but it’s not.”

“Right,” said Alex in clear disbelief.

The sergeant chose not to argue, and went
back to the matter under investigation. “So, would you say Finney
was drunk?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. I understand
that’s his standard of behavior. He drinks and then beats up his
wife and children.”

“Yes,” muttered the sergeant, as if he
didn’t want to admit it. “We’re familiar with Finney at the
station. Too familiar with him for my comfort.”

Alex grunted.

“Guess we won’t be troubled by him again,
though, Sarge,” said his younger, more guileless companion
cheerfully. The sergeant glowered at him, and the young man sobered
and turned his attention back to his notebook.

“But you took a swing at him?” The sergeant
looked as though he’d finally asked the most important question in
this entire interrogation, the one he’d been building up to and one
from which he expected to achieve results.

“He swung at me first,” Alex said promptly.
“There were lots of witnesses. I assume other police officials have
already questioned them.”

“Yes, well . . .” The sergeant cleared his
throat again. “Right now we’re talking to you, Mr. English.”

“Right.” Alex would have rolled his eyes,
but he didn’t want to aggravate his slow-witted inquisitor.

“So, in essence, what you’re telling me is
that this whole thing was an accident,” the sergeant said. He
directed a scowl at his associate, who licked the point of his
pencil and wrote something else in his notebook.

“I guess,” said Alex. “He
challenged me when I told him to get out of Miss Finney’s room. He
was tearing it up. I don’t know if he was looking for something in
particular, or if he only wanted to destroy her things, but I
suspect the latter. From what I’ve heard of him, he was a
resentful, belligerent bully, and he didn’t like the fact that Miss
Finney had taken the care of her family unto herself.” There. Let
the police argue about
that
, if they dared. “He charged at
me, I dodged, then he swung, I hit him, he staggered back, and went
out the window.” And there was all that blood. He suppressed a
shudder when he remembered that arcing rainbow of blood.

“Yes. So others have said.” The sergeant and
the other policeman exchanged a glance.

A knock came at the door of the
interrogation room in which Alex had been taken. The younger
policeman rose and went to the door. Alex heard another officer
standing outside the room say, “It’s the Finneys and Mr. English’s
sister. Come to see the sarge and the prisoner.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” said Alex, feeling
cranky. Damnation, what were Kate and Mary Jo doing here?

“Of course not,” said the sergeant. He’d
risen and gone to the door and now frowned at the policeman at the
door, who cowered back.

“Sorry, sir.”

As he faded away, Kate burst into the room,
right smack past the sergeant, who was taken aback. She was
followed by Mary Jo, Walter, and Bill, who also ignored the
sergeant, whose dignity suffered as a result, and who scowled after
them.

“Alex!”

Ignoring the policemen, his sister, and both
Finney boys, Alex surged up from his chair and caught Kate in his
arms. “God, Kate, I’m so sorry about all this.”

When she hugged him hard and didn’t seem
inclined to let him go, Alex mentally revised his statement. If
killing her father had this effect on his darling Kate, he wasn’t
sorry at all.

He’d never say so.

“It’s not your fault, Alex. I know it wasn’t
your fault.”

“True. Let’s hope the police see it your
way.”

“They will.” And with that, Kate
disentangled herself from Alex’s embrace and turned on the sergeant
like a whirlwind. Alex hadn’t seen her in her full-fledged
Kate-from-the-streets, just-let-me-get-at-him mode since shortly
after they’d met. He watched with interest and a fair degree of
amusement.

“Sergeant Maguire, you know
darned well that Alex didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve arrested my
father how many times for being drunk and disorderly? And how often
have you had to chase him out of our house after he hit my mother?
And how
dare
you
keep Alex imprisoned in this filthy police station? Darn it, you
let my father out time and time again when he’d almost killed
people. You ought to give Alex a medal for finally ridding the
world of some bad rubbish!”

Since Mary Jo had gasped in horror and
astonishment shortly after Kate began her tirade, Alex decided to
go to his sister’s side. He frowned at her to let her know he
wouldn’t countenance any interference from her. Besides, this was
classic Kate, and he loved her for it.

“Oh, for Pete’s . . .” Her brothers hurried
up to flank their sister.

It looked to Alex as if Walter and Bill
weren’t so enamored of their sister’s assertive tendencies. Walter
tried to take her by the arm, but she shook him off. “Kate,” he
said, a placating ring to his voice.

Placation wouldn’t work; Alex would bet
money on it. He watched as Bill tried it anyhow. “Kate . . .”

“Leave me alone!” She shot
her brothers such a vicious glower that they both backed up a
couple of paces. Turning back to the beleaguered sergeant, she
poked him in the chest with her finger. “You know good and well
that my father was a worthless piece of—” Casting a quick glance at
Mary Jo, Kate went on, using words Alex imagined she’d edited on
the spot. “—junk. He was a no-good drunk, and from what my
neighbors have told me when we were coming in here, he was tearing
my place apart. Alex was defending me, which is a darned sight more
than any of
you
people have ever done.”