Page 49 of Holmes Is Missing

“I’m definitely traveling with you from now on,” said Marple, sliding her bag and purse onto the seat beside her.

Dodgett leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. The car pulled away and turned down a road behind the terminal. Within a minute, they were on the M4, heading east toward London.

Marple settled back on the plush leather, with Dodgett beside her.

“Is this seat heated?” she asked, sensing warmth under her thighs.

“Too much?” asked Dodgett, reaching for a control.

“Not at all,” said Marple. “It’s lovely.”

From the way they were shooting past other vehicles on the motorway, Marple estimated they were moving at least 80 miles an hour. But the only sound was a light hum from the tires. Dodgett was staring out the window at the passing blur, his helmet resting lightly on his knee.

“I don’t suppose you realize the significance of your name,” said Marple.

“I certainly do,” he replied. “Same as the constable inThey Do It with Mirrors. Happy coincidence.”

“You know Agatha Christie’s work?”

“Know it?” he said. “I’m a devotee. Big fan of Miss Marple—the original.” He lifted his dark eyebrows. “No offense.”

“None taken,” said Marple. “I’m in the same camp. So which is your favorite Christie mystery?”

Dodgett’s brow furrowed slightly. “Well, I usually say it’sTheyDo It with Mirrors,since that’s the one in which my namesake is featured.”

“Featured?” Marple teased. “Hardly. A minor character—let’s be honest.”

“True enough,” said Dodgett with a grin. “Actually, my real favorite would have to beA Pocket Full of Rye.”

“Of course. Because Miss Marple turns to a Scotland Yard inspector for help.”

“No. Because she is close to one of the victims.”

“Right!” said Marple, running the plot in her head. “Gladys the maid. Poor girl. Strangled in the garden and left with a clothespin on her nose.”

“Sometimes I do find Miss Marple a little detached,” admitted Dodgett. “I guess I prefer it when things get more personal.” After a beat, he added, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Please,” said Marple.

“Those books were what first got me interested in police work. The puzzles. The red herrings. The misdirection. The reveal. If only real life could be that tidy.”

“I think I may have found a kindred spirit,” said Marple. She turned to more fully face him. “Not to darken the mood, but what more can you tell me about the hospital kidnappings here?”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” said Dodgett. “So far, all we have is a doula.”

“A doula? Was she on duty the night of the kidnapping?”

Dodgett nodded. “She worked to support a couple of the mothers. Private, not on staff. Brought her in this morning. We suspect she knows more than she’s saying.”

“You have her in custody?”

Dodgett glanced at his wristwatch. “We can hold her for twenty-four hours. Plus another twelve if we think we cancharge her for something serious. But it doesn’t seem likely at the moment.”

“I need to talk to her,” said Marple firmly.

Dodgett looked over. “You understand that would be totally against protocol.”

“I do.”

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