Believing the Lie - Elizabeth George [287]
Below this were the names of the sportswomen, and Lynley couldn’t stop himself from reading through the list, from looking for one name in particular, a name he had certainly never thought he’d see again. And there it was: Kickarse Electra, the nom de guerre of a large animal veterinarian from the zoo in Bristol: one Daidre Trahair, a woman who took the occasional country weekend in Cornwall, where he had met her.
Lynley smiled at this. Then he chuckled. Denton looked up from the scrambling of eggs and said, “What?”
“What do you know about flat track roller derby?”
“What in hell is that, if one might ask?” Denton enquired.
“I think we ought to find out, you and I. Shall I purchase tickets for us, Charlie?”
“Tickets?” Denton looked at Lynley as if he’d gone half-mad. But then he fell back against the stove, and he struck a pose, one arm lifted to his forehead. He said, “My God. Has it actually come to this? Are you— dare I say— asking me out on a date?”
Lynley laughed in spite of himself. “I appear to be doing so.”
“What have we come to?” Denton sighed.
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” Lynley answered.
15 NOVEMBER
CHALK FARM
LONDON
The day hadn’t been an easy one for Barbara Havers. It had largely depended upon the use of two skills that she possessed, alas, in minuscule proportion. The first was an ability to ignore the obvious. The second was the production of compassion for persons unknown.
Ignoring the obvious meant saying nothing to DI Lynley about whatever it was that had happened between him and Superintendent Ardery. From what Barbara could tell, their personal relationship was finished. There was a sadness in both of them that they each attempted to mask with courtesy and kindness, and from this Barbara took the fact that their breakup was a mutual decision, which was, at least, all to the good. It would have been a real nightmare in the workplace had one of them wished to end their affair while the other continued to cling like a starfish to a piling. At least this way, they both could forge onward without blameful glances and meaningful remarks being flung about by the aggrieved party for the next six months. But they were feeling the end of things. There was so much melancholy in the air round them that Barbara decided that avoidance was the better part of valour in this situation.
Her lack of skill in the compassion department didn’t relate to Lynley and Superintendent Ardery, though. Neither of them was about to unburden a heavy heart onto her shoulders, so she was relieved about that. She was less relieved when she met Engracia in the wine bar near Gower Street a second time and asked the Spanish student to place another phone call to Argentina.
While Engracia spoke to Carlos, the brother of Alatea Vasquez y del Torres, Barbara fed her the information. He happened to be there at his parents’ home, making a call upon his mother, and in his company was his cousin Elena Maria, with whom Engracia also spoke. She went between what Barbara was telling her and what the Argentines were saying in reply, and in this manner they navigated the waters of a family’s sorrow.
Please tell them Alatea has drowned… please let them know that as of yet there is no body… because of the conditions in Morecambe Bay where she was lost… the sands shift due to the tide… it has to do with various elements… rivers running into it, something that’s called the tidal bore, mudflats, quicksand… we do believe the body will turn up and we’ve been given a good idea where… will be buried by her husband… yes, she was married… yes, she was very happy… she’d merely gone for a walk… so terribly sorry… I’ll see about photos, yes… so understandable that you’d want to know… definitely