Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

the Isle of Dogs is owing only to a lack of proof that she and this . . . this Corsico person are inside each other’s pocket.”
    “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Lynley said calmly.
    “And don’t you take that infuriating tone with me,” she snapped. “You’re thinking appeasement, and I won’t be appeased. I want this Italy thing handled, I want it finished, and I want you back here at work in London before I know you’re missing. Is that clear?”
    Barbara saw a muscle work in Lynley’s jaw. Definitely, this wasn’t the tone of the pillow talk he and Ardery had once engaged in. He said, “You do know I’m working on—”
    “It’s been reassigned to John Stewart.”
    “But he’s already working on another case,” Barbara protested.
    “And he has your capable assistance, doesn’t he, Sergeant?” Ardery said. “So you’ll be rather busy from this moment on. Now, get out of this office and get your next assignment from him because at this point he has enough to keep you occupied and out of trouble indefinitely. For which, by the way, you ought to get down on your knees and thank God. So leave us. And don’t let me catch sight of you doing
anything
but seeing to what DI Stewart decides you’re actually capable of doing.”
    Barbara opened her mouth to protest. Lynley shot her a look. It wasn’t the least bit friendly, for like it or not, the deed was done. At her machinations, he was going to Italy. At her machinations, she was going nowhere.
    BELGRAVIA
    LONDON
    Lynley waited until he got home to ring Daidre Trahair. He found the vet still at the Bristol Zoo, discussing with a team of assistants the problems attendant to anaesthetising an ageing male lion for the purpose of removing three of his teeth.
    “He’s eighteen,” she told Lynley. “In lion years . . . Well, one must consider the condition of his heart and his lungs. It’s always delicate when you anaesthetise an animal that large anyway.”
    “I suppose you can’t just ask him to say ‘Ah’ and administer novocaine,” Lynley commented.
    “One would wish,” she said. Then, “Unfortunately, I’m set to do this on Wednesday, Thomas. So I’m afraid I’ll not be in London again this month.”
    Lynley wasn’t happy with this news as her bimonthly roller derby matches had become more an anticipated event than an amusing diversion in the last few months. Still, he said, “As to that . . .” And he gave her his news. He was off to Italy as a result of Barbara Havers’s fruitless effort to insert herself into a Tuscan investigation. “I’ll be setting off in the morning. So please forge ahead with your feline dental work with complete impunity.”
    “Ah.” There was a pause. In the background he could hear a man’s voice call out, “You coming with us, Dai, or meeting us there?”
    She said to him in reply, “Hang on. I’ll be along in a moment,” and then into the phone to Lynley, “You’ll be gone a while, then?”
    “I’ve no idea, actually.” He waited for a disappointed “Oh, I see” upon which he could hang one or two hopes. Instead she said, “What sort of investigation is it?”
    “Kidnapping,” he said. “A nine-year-old British girl.”
    “That’s dreadful.”
    “Barbara knows the family.”
    “Lord. No wonder she wanted to go.”
    Lynley didn’t really want to hear any justification for Barbara Havers’s behaviour, especially as he was the one who appeared to be paying the price for it. He said, “Perhaps. Nonetheless, I could have done without being sent over to mediate between the parents and the Italian police.”
    “Will that be your job?”
    “It’s likely.”
    “Should I wish you good luck? I’m not sure of the proper form.”
    “It hardly matters,” but what he wanted to say was, “You might tell me you’ll miss me,” although he had an idea this might not be the case.
    “When do you leave for Italy, then?”
    “As soon as I can arrange the details. Or Charlie can, actually. He’s working on it now.”
    “Ah. I see. Well.” Still there was no disappointment in her words or her tone, despite his wish to hear this from her. He tried to come up with a reason for this that avoided the cold reality of her simply
not
being disappointed at all.
    He said, “Daidre . . .” and then wasn’t sure where else to go with the conversation.
    She said, “Hmm?”
    “I suppose I should let you be off, then. Sounds as if you’ve got something on this