Believing the Lie - Elizabeth George [182]
So she went back to where they’d gone off track, saying, “Anyway I’d planned to speak to Azhar. If he can come up with someone adept at Spanish, we’ve solved that problem and we’ve got the key to Alatea Fairclough.”
“As to that, there’s something else.” Lynley told her a tale about Alatea Fairclough’s modeling career in her pre-Nicholas Fairclough days. He ended with, “He told Deborah it was ‘naughty underwear’ and said she’s embarrassed and afraid she’ll be found out. Naughty underwear hardly being a crushing issue to anyone but a nun or someone marrying into the royal family, we’re thinking it might be pornography instead.”
“I’ll see what I can do with that as well,” Barbara told him.
They exchanged a few more words during which Barbara tried to read him through his tone. Did he believe what she’d said about Isabelle Ardery and his presence in Cumbria? Did he not? And was it important, in any case, what he believed? When he ended the call, she had no answers. But she had no love for her questions, either.
CHALK FARM
LONDON
Barbara heard the sound of raised voices as she approached the ground-floor flat at the front of the property. She was already crossing the patch of lawn to the terrace in front of the flat’s front doors when the unmistakable voice of Taymullah Azhar shouted furiously, “I will take steps, Angelina. I promise you that.” Barbara froze at once. Angelina Upman cried, “Are you actually threatening me?” and Azhar returned at top volume, “You can ask me that? This matter is settled.”
Barbara spun on her heel to beat a quick retreat, but she was too late. Out of the door Azhar strode, his face as black as she’d ever seen it. He clocked her, for there was no place for either of them to hide. He turned away and hurried off the property, setting off down Eton Villas in the direction of Steeles Road.
It was a damn-and-blast moment that got worse immediately. For Angelina Upman came dashing out of the flat as well, as if going after her partner, and she clasped a fist at her mouth when she saw Barbara. They locked eyes. Angelina spun and retreated.
That painted things badly for Barbara. She was caught. Angelina had shown her friendship. Barbara could hardly slink off without asking if she could be of help. This was actually the last option she wanted to choose from the list of alternatives that she rapidly considered. She chose it anyway, however.
Angelina answered immediately when Barbara knocked on the French windows. Barbara said to her, “Sorry. I was coming to ask Azhar…” She ran a hand through her hair and was all at once aware of how different it felt since the previous choppiness of it was gone. This fact seemed to define what she had to do next. She said, “Bloody hell, I’m dead sorry I overheard the row. But I didn’t hear much, just the last bit. I was coming to ask Azhar for a favour.”
Angelina’s shoulders slumped a bit. “I’m terribly sorry, Barbara. We should have kept our voices down but we’re too hot tempered. I brought something up better left unsaid. There are topics Hari won’t discuss.”
“Triggers for a row?”
“Just that, yes.” She blew out a regretful breath. “Anyway. This’ll blow over. It always does.”
“C’n I do anything?”
“If you don’t mind a mess, you might come inside and have a cup of tea with me.” Angelina then grinned and added, “Or a glass of gin, which I could bloody do with, let me tell you.”
“I’ll go for the tea,” Barbara said. “Save the gin for next time.”
Inside the flat, Barbara saw what Angelina had meant by a mess. It looked as if Azhar and his partner had resorted to hurling a few objects at each other in the midst of their row. This seemed so utterly unlike Azhar that Barbara looked from the sitting room to Angelina and wondered if she’d done all the hurling