We flew home from Toronto on a direct Air Canada flight to San Francisco. Jay said he got a kick out of holding an airplane up over the Rockies. That may have been because I made him take two tranquillizers before we boarded the plane. It was good to be home. There had been a forest fire but it had by-passed our house by several miles. My bookstore was still solvent.
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I returned to London in December to testify in the trial of the man I knew as Smith. So did Ann. Milos was not there to meet us because he had flown home to Prague to take up an important position in the Ministry of Education. The Czech government had fallen in November.
Ann and I stayed with Daphne Worth. She was living in the zebra flat. She had stored the porcelain knick-knacks and the antique furniture, and had let out Miss Beale's flat to a family with two children. Her friend, Marge Perry of the tenants' rights association, had taken over the basement flat.
Daphne was recovering slowly. Trevor pleaded guilty, on the advice of his lawyers, and received a twenty year sentence. Daphne had visited him once. He complained about the prison food. She didn't go back.
Ann and I were apprehensive about testifying, but we were well coached and survived the ordeal. British justice moves swiftly.
For me, the worst part of testifying was seeing Smith in the dock. He had the coldest stare of anyone I've ever encountered. Faisel had tried to plead diplomatic immunity. When the Libyan government didn't acknowledge him, he also pleaded guilty. He admitted he had hired Smith to kill Milos.
Faisel refused to name his employers, though. There was much speculation as to who they were. Faisel got fifteen years, a stiffer sentence than his lawyers had expected, and a thorough drubbing in the tabloid press. After all, he had killed dogs in the assault on Hambly.
Smith was sentenced to life in prison. It was unlikely he would ever be paroled. Chief Inspector Thorne, who took us out to dinner the day the trial ended, was jubilant. He flirted with Ann all the way through the meal. She smiled and flirted back, gently. She and Milos had been corresponding.
I flew home in time for Christmas. My parents flew to California, too. I think Jay was almost as glad to see them as he was to see me.
In January we watched on television when Vaçlav Havel was sworn in as president of Czechoslovakia. I thought I saw Milos in one of the shots, but I couldn't be sure because my vision was a little blurry. Some months later, Havel announced that the Czech communist government had indeed supplied the explosive that destroyed Flight 103 and so many young hopes.
Today I received a letter from Ann. She never did open her bookstore, and she is teaching English again. The letter was postmarked Prague.
About the Author
Born in Montana and educated in Oregon and Washington, Sheila taught at Clark College in Vancouver, Washington, for thirty years. She retired to write full time. She has published eleven novels, four Regency romances and seven mysteries, most recently An Old Chaos from Perseverance Press. Skylark is the second in her earlier Lark Dodge series. The first, Larkspur, was republished by Uncial Press in September 2011. She lives in Vancouver with her husband Mickey, and also has a son.
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