Death at King Arthur's Court by Richard; Forrest Page A

typing at Fort Benjamin Harrison. I believe that’s in Indiana.’
    Rocco laughed. ‘It would seem as if cojones are not all that transferable,’ he said as they entered the house.
    Bea sat stiffly on the couch in the living room. She looked up from leafing through a New Yorker magazine. ‘Well?’
    â€˜What I don’t understand,’ Rocco said, ‘is why someone didn’t obliterate Morgan years ago? Our victim does not sound like an endearing person. Why did you invite him to your house under any circumstance? Did he have any friends or admirers?’
    â€˜He was the best teacher I ever knew,’ Bea said defensively.
    â€˜I agree,’ Lyon said. ‘Morgan may have had definite social lacks, but he was a superb teacher. He was one of the few department chairmen I know of who insisted on teaching a section of freshmen in an English survey course. He had a rare talent in his ability to reach out and encourage young men and women. He had a true calling that took great energy. Perhaps that was the reason for his problems with others. His teaching ground up every available particle of compassion that he possessed. Because those qualities are now gone, we are all diminished by his loss.’
    â€˜Morgan had the ability to alienate anyone he wanted. He could be ruthless to young teachers,’ Bea said. ‘But sometimes in life you accumulate certain people along the way and they become part of your fabric of living.’
    Rocco nodded. ‘I have a few friends like that. Anything else from last night’s events that’s germane?’ he asked.
    â€˜Appetizers and another drink seemed to calm them down a bit,’ Lyon said. ‘I was still trying to smooth things over when the twins arrived. Rina and Clay Dickensen are Morgan’s younger half-brother and sister. Clay’s my accountant and had stopped over to do some tax work for me. Rina’s newest boyfriend, Skee Chickering, was with them. I suppose you could say that the second half of the party began with the eagle sighting. Or at least when someone thought they saw an eagle. Well, perhaps it was when someone wanted to see an eagle …’
    â€˜I see one!’ Rina screeched in a high-pitched voice that teetered on the cusp of hysteria. ‘He’s up there! Oh, God, my eagle!’ She climbed on the patio parapet and stretched her arms overhead in a gigantic embrace. ‘Oh, mighty winged creature, soar high above us and cast down your regal benediction.’ She reached for the hand of a muscular man with white-blond hair and the light complexion of a near albino. ‘Help me with this.’
    Skee chanted what seemed to be a rather garbled mantra as he climbed to the wall next to her. He stood with his feet planted securely apart and grasped her waist with both hands. With flexed knees he hoisted her overhead.
    Rina Dickensen’s peasant skirt billowed around her hips as she balanced horizontally above Skee’s head. She arched her back and extended her arms in a wing-like imitation of flight. He slowly turned her until she faced out over the valley high above the Connecticut River. Her perfectly balanced body seemed poised for a momentary flight over the hills.
    It occurred to Lyon that Rina’s pose was identical to the earlier flying configurations assumed by his Wobblies. The similarity between monster and woman stopped with the positioning of their bodies. His benignly ugly Wobblies were neuter, while the lithe person bracketed against the night was definitely a vibrant woman. Her body, outlined clearly against the sky, exuded an animal sensuality.
    Rina had the slender taut figure of the gymnast, with the firm hips and buttocks of the trained athlete. The brisk river wind swirled her clothing to reveal long legs, while its slight chill through the thin material of her blouse stiffened her nipples. Her presence disturbed Lyon, not because of her bizarre exhibitionism,