Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

someone in London look suspicious. Who does that suggest to you?”
    “We know Lorenzo Mura is probably acquainted with Di Massimo. They both play football for their cities’ teams.” He was quiet for a moment, then she heard him sigh. “I’ll pass all this on to Lo Bianco,” he finally said. “He can hand it over to his replacement.”
    “D’you still want me to—”
    “Complete your work on the Doughty end of things, Barbara. If you come up with something, we’ll send it to Italy when I get back. Everything’s in the hands of the Italians now. As liaison officer, my work is finished.”
    Barbara let out her breath, which she’d been holding as she’d waited for his reaction to the tale she’d spun. She said, “When d’you come back home, sir?”
    “I’ve a flight out in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    They rang off then, and Barbara was left at her desk with the malignant stare of DI Stewart upon her. Across the room as he was, he hadn’t been able to hear any part of her conversation with Lynley, but he had on his face the expression of a man who had no intention of letting any sleeping dog alone if there was a chance he could kick it soundly in the ribs.
    She returned his stare until he shifted in his chair and went back to wasting his time in a putative examination of paperwork on his desk. Barbara sorted through her feelings about what she had just done and not done in her phone call with Lynley.
    She was fast approaching a professional line. Should she cross it, that move would forever define her. She asked herself what was owed to the people she loved, and the only answer she could come up with was absolute loyalty at all costs. The difficulty was in choosing those people. The additional difficulty was attempting to understand the exact nature of the love she felt for them.

1 May
    LUCCA
    TUSCANY
    I nside the kitchen of Torre Lo Bianco, Salvatore fondly watched the interaction of his two children with their
nonna
. The previous night had been one of those designated for the children to spend with their father and, as it happened because of his current abode, with their
nonna.
Salvatore’s mother was taking full advantage of the presence of her
nipoti
.
    She’d given them a breakfast heavily reliant upon
dolci
, which naturally would have met with Birgit’s outraged protests. She’d made a vague bow to nutrition with
cereale e latte—
thanks be to God she’d at least chosen bran flakes, Salvatore thought—but after that she’d brought out the cakes and the
biscotti
. The children had devoured far more than was good for them and were showing the effects of so much sugar. For her part their
nonna
was plying them with questions.
    Were they attending Mass every Sunday? she wanted to know. Had they gone to services on Holy Thursday? Were they on their knees for three hours on Good Friday? When was the last time they’d received the Blessed Sacrament?
    To every question, Bianca answered with lowered eyes. To every question, Marco answered with an expression so solemn that Salvatore wondered where he had learned to master it. On the way to school he informed them that lying to their
nonna
should be Topic Number One when next they went to confession.
    Before he left them at Scuola Dante Alighieri, he told Bianca that her little friend Hadiyyah Upman had been found. He hastened to assure her that the child was well, but he also spent some moments making absolutely certain that Bianca understood—“
anche tu, Marco
,” he added—that she was never, ever upon her immortal soul to believe
anyone
who might tell her to accompany him for any reason. If that person was not her
nonna
, her mamma, or her papà, then she should scream for help and not stop screaming until help got to her.
Chiaro?
    Hadiyyah Upman’s love for her father had been her downfall. She missed him terribly, and no false emails from her aunt purporting to be from her father had assuaged her feelings. All someone had to do to gain her trust was to promise the little girl that she’d be taken to the man. Praise God that she’d only ended up in the care of mad Domenica Medici. There were far worse fates that could have befallen her.
    Once Hadiyyah and her parents had been reunited at the hospital, Salvatore and the London detective had gone their separate ways. Lynley’s job as liaison was complete, and he did not wish to intrude further into the Italian investigation. “I’ll pass along to you the