To Lynley, all of the information indicated a death that was no accident. What it still did not clarify, however, was who the intended victim had actually been.
He thanked Manette and her former husband. He left them to what he reckoned was going to be a full discussion of the family situation. He could tell from Manette’s reaction to the information McGhie had been giving that she was not going to let these dogs lie.
He was getting into the Healey Elliott, when his mobile rang. Havers, he thought. Clarity on its way. But he saw by the incoming number that it was Isabelle ringing.
He said to her, “Hullo, you. This is a pleasant diversion.”
She said, “I’m afraid we need to talk, Thomas.”
Even if she hadn’t said Thomas, Isabelle’s tone would have told him this wasn’t the woman whose soft curves and warm body his hands knew and enjoyed. This was his guv, and she wasn’t pleased. On the other hand, she was stone-cold sober, and he could tell that as well.
He said, “Of course. Where are you?”
“Where you should be. I’m at work.”
“As am I, Isabelle.”
“After a fashion. But that’s not my point.”
He waited for more. It was quick in coming.
“Why is it Barbara Havers can be entrusted with information and I can’t? What d’you expect I’d have done with the knowledge? What could I have done? Marched into Hillier’s office crowing, ‘I know, I know, I bloody well know’?”
“Barbara’s doing some digging for me, Isabelle. That’s all it is.”
“You lied to me, didn’t you?”
“About what?”
“The entire need for secrecy. It can hardly be a hush-hush matter if Sergeant Havers is sledgehammering her way through it.”
“Barbara knows no more than some names. There were matters I couldn’t deal with at my end, but I knew she could. She’s doing research.”
“Oh, please. I’m hardly stupid, Tommy. I know how tight you are with Barbara. She’d gladly step into the iron maiden if you asked her. You say mum’s the word on this one, Barb, and she’d cut out her tongue. This has to do with Bob, hasn’t it?”
Lynley was flummoxed. Bob? For a moment, he had no idea what she was talking about. Then she added, “Bob, his wife, the twins. You’re punishing me because unlike you I have entanglements and sometimes they get in our way.”
“Are you talking about that night?” he asked. “When I turned up? When they were all there? Isabelle, good God. That happened and it’s done with. I carry no— ”
“Grudge? No, you wouldn’t, would you? You’re far too well bred for that.”
“Really, Isabelle darling, you’re upset about nothing. It’s everything that I said it was. Hillier wants this unknown at the Met and I’ve kept it that way.”
“It’s about trust, you know. And I’m not just talking about this situation. I’m talking about the other as well. You could ruin me, Tommy. One word and I’m finished. Gone. It’s done. If you don’t trust me, how can I trust you? God in heaven, what’ve I done to myself?”
“What you’ve done is work yourself into a state over nothing. What do you expect I’d do to you?”
“I step out of line, I don’t cooperate, I’m not quite the woman you think I should be…”
“And what? I march into Hillier’s office and say I’ve been my guv’s lover on the sly for the past four months, six months, two years, whatever? Is that what you think?”
“You could destroy me. I don’t have that equal power over you. You don’t need the job, you don’t even bloody want the job. We’re not equals in so many ways and this is the biggest one. Add to that the fact that there’s no trust now and what have we got?”
“What do you mean that there’s no trust now? That’s ridiculous. It’s completely absurd.” And then the question, because he suddenly knew— was sure of it— that he’d been wrong at first about her condition. “Have you been drinking?”
Silence. It was the worst thing to ask. He wished he could unsay it. But he couldn’t and her reply was soft.
“Thank you, Tommy,” she said. She cut off the call. She left him looking out at Great Urswick’s pond and a family of swans peacefully afloat upon the placid water.
LAKE WINDERMERE
CUMBRIA
After the detective left, Manette drove directly to Ireleth Hall. She parked on the drive and strode to the folly. She’d left with Freddie telling her that he’d had no choice but to speak, that if indeed Ian’s death was no accident, they had to get to the bottom of the matter. Anyway, he’d said, it was becoming clear that there were other matters they needed to get to the bottom of, also. Well and good, had been Manette’s reply. Getting to the bottom of things was exactly what she intended to do.
Mignon was at home. When was Mignon not at home? But she was not alone as she usually was, so Manette was forced to sit through the last part of her sister’s thrice-weekly head-and-foot massage. This was administered by a grave Chinese man who drove out from Windermere for this purpose, which was an hour on the head and an hour on the feet. Which, of course, their father would pay for.
Mignon was in a reclining chair, eyes closed, as her feet were seen to: pressure, massage, whatever the hell else it all was. Manette didn’t know and she hardly cared. But she understood her twin well enough to throw herself into a seat and wait because this was the only way she was going to be able to garner her sister’s cooperation. Interrupt her pleasure and there would be hell to pay.
It all took a tedious half hour. Occasionally, Mignon murmured, “So lovely,” or “Yes,” or “A bit more pressure to the left, darling.” The solemn Chinese man obliged as instructed. Manette wondered what he’d do if her sister asked him to suck on her toes.
At the end, the masseur gently wrapped Mignon’s feet in a warm towel. She moaned and said, “So soon? It seemed like five minutes.” Slowly, she opened her eyes and cast a radiant smile upon the man. “You are a miracle incarnate, Mr. Zhao,” she murmured. “You know where to send the bill, of course.”
Of course, Manette thought.
Mr. Zhao nodded and packed up his things. Oils and unguents and whatevers. Then he was gone, as silent as an embarrassing thought.
Mignon stretched in her chair. Arms raised high over her head, toes pointed, all of it like a luxuriating cat. Then she unwrapped her feet, got up, and strolled to the window, where she stretched a bit more. She bent to touch her toes, and she worked her body to loosen her waist and her hips. Manette half expected her to start doing jumping jacks. Anything to rub in the obvious joke that Mignon was continuing to play on their parents.
“I don’t know how the hell you live with yourself,” Manette said.
“It’s one eternal circle of excruciating pain,” Mignon told her, casting a sly look in her direction. If one could project gleeful misery, Manette decided, that would come close to describing her sister’s expression. “You cannot possibly know what I suffer.” She strolled from the sitting room into the area set up to house her computer, careful to take her zimmer along should either of their parents make an unexpected call upon her. She tapped a few keys and spent a few moments reading something that was likely an e-mail message. She said, “Oh dear. This one’s becoming something of a bore. We’ve got to the great-impossibility-of-our-love-darling stage, and when they get there, all the anguish and teeth gnashing put such a bloody damper on things.” She sighed. “I did have such hopes for him. He seemed good for a year’s go, at least, especially once he started with the genitalia photos. But what can I say? When they fall, they do fall so hard.” She punched a few keys and murmured, “Bye-bye, darling. Alas, alack, and all the rest. Love springs eternal. Whatever.”