Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

with Hadiyyah’s November disappearance in the company of her mother and ending with her current disappearance from a crowded market in Italy. She listened without asking questions other than to clarify names, locations, and relationships, and when Barbara concluded and waited for the logical “of course you must go to Tuscany at once” that she believed would be coming on the verbal wings of a hundred angels, Ardery pointed out what she called “a few salient details that the sergeant had apparently overlooked.”
    First among them was the fact that the British embassy was not involved in this matter. No one had rung them or paid a call upon them or sent them a telegram, email, fax, or smoke signal, and without the involvement of the embassy—diplomats pouring oil on potentially troubled waters in advance of the Met’s incursion into someone else’s patch—they did not barge round like bulls among the Belleek attempting an investigation where they were not wanted.
    Second, the superintendent pointed out, the purpose of the liaison officer was to liaise, which, as they both knew, meant to keep the family in the UK apprised of everything relative to the investigation that was occurring on foreign soil. But the parents of the child were in Italy, no? Or at least on their way to Italy, according to the sergeant’s own words. Indeed, the mother of the child
lived
in Italy, no? Somewhere in Lucca? Outside of Lucca? In the vicinity of Lucca? And with an Italian national, yes? So she had no reason to request a liaison officer. Hence, there was no case to present as to the need of sending Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers into Tuscany to be of assistance in whatever was going on.
    “What’s going on,” Barbara said, “is the disappearance of a nine-year-old girl. A nine-year-old
British
girl. No one saw it happen, and
whatever
it was that happened, it happened in the middle of a market. A crowded market with hundreds of witnesses who apparently saw nothing.”
    “As of yet,” Ardery said. “They can’t all have been talked to at this point. How long has the child been gone?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “I wouldn’t think I’d need to explain that to you.”
    “Bloody hell, you know the first twenty-four hours are crucial. And now it’s been more than forty-eight.”
    “And I assure you, the Italian police know that as well.”
    “They’re telling Angelina—”
    “Sergeant.” Isabelle’s voice had been firm but not unsympathetic despite her words. Now, however, it had an edge. “I’ve told you the facts. You seem to think I have power in this matter when I don’t. When a foreign country—”
    “What part of this don’t you bloody understand?” Barbara cut in. “She’s been snatched in public. She might be dead by now.”
    “She might well be. And if that’s the case—”
    “Listen to yourself!” Barbara shrieked. “This is a kid we’re talking about. A kid I know. And you’re declaring ‘she might well be’ like you’re talking about a cake left too long in the oven. It might well be burnt. The cheese might well be mouldy. The milk might well be sour.”
    Isabelle surged to her feet. “You damn well control yourself,” she said. “You’re too involved by half. Even
if
the embassy rang up and said the Met’s presence was wanted at once, you’d be the last officer I’d consider sending. You’ve no objectivity at all, and if you don’t understand that objectivity above everything else is crucial when it comes to a crime, then you need to get back to wherever you learned your policing skills and learn them again.”
    “And what if something like this happened to one of your boys?” Barbara demanded. “Just how objective would you manage to be?”
    “You’ve gone quite mad” was the conclusion to it all, plus the order to get back to work.
    Barbara stormed from Ardery’s office. For the moment, she couldn’t even recall what the work was that she was supposed to get back to. She flung herself in the direction of her desk, where her computer’s screen attempted to remind her, but she could think of nothing and would be good for nothing unless and until she got herself to Italy.
    LUCCA
    TUSCANY
    Chief Inspector Salvatore Lo Bianco had an evening ritual that he adhered to as often as he was able to be at home for dinner. With a cup of
caffè corretto
in his hand, he climbed to the very top of the tower in which he and his mamma lived, and there in the