Mourn not your Dead

dark-lashed, and a true, clear gray. It was an honest, guileless visage, with no hint of meanness. Kincaid wondered, as he often did, at how easily one’s perception of others was influenced by the simple combination of genes that made up a human face.
    “Hullo, Geoff.” Gemma sat directly opposite him, elbows on the table. “I’m sorry about all this.”
    He nodded and gave her a shaky smile.
    “I’d like to get this business sorted as quickly as possible, so that you can go home.”
    Kincaid and Deveney had flanked her but sat back a bit, allowing Geoff to focus on her.
    “I’m sure this must be difficult for you,” Gemma continued, “but I need you to tell me about the things we found in your room.”
    “I never meant to—” Geoff cleared his throat and started again. “I never intended keeping them. It was just a game, something to—” He stopped, shaking his head. “You won’t understand.”
    “A game you played with Lucy?”
    This brought a nod. “Yes, but how did you—” Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip. “Lucy didn’t know,” he said, his voice rising. “Honestly, I never told her the t-truth about where the talismans came from. Sh-she would have been really angry with me.”
    “Lucy told us a little bit about the game. She also told us she thought you collected the things from jumble sales.” A hint of disapproval crept into Gemma’s voice. “She trusted you.”
    “Lucy knows about... this?” Geoff whispered, ashen. When Gemma nodded confirmation, he closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his fists in a gesture of despair.
    Gemma leaned even nearer, until her face was a mere foot from his. “Listen, Geoff, I understand that you meant to help Lucy. But how could you play with things that were tainted by dishonesty—lying and stealing?”
    A pulse ticked in the hollow of Geoff s throat, and the rise and fall of his collarbone were sharply visible beneath the black-and-white dragon painted on his T-shirt. Gemma, pale and tired but resolutely caring, held his gaze transfixed.
    She had a rare and instinctive talent for forming a connection and getting right at the emotional heart of things, and when Geoff s eyes filled with tears and he covered his face with his hands, Kincaid knew she had done it once again.
    “You’re right,” he said, voice muffled. “I hated taking things from my friends, but I couldn’t seem to help it. And the game wasn’t working. I told myself I didn’t know why, but I was just too ashamed to admit it. I kept telling Lucy she wasn’t trying hard enough.”
    “Trying hard enough at what?”
    Geoff lifted his head. “Becoming the character. Transcending the game.”
    “And what would happen then?” asked Gemma, sounding only reasonably curious.
    Shrugging, he said, “We’d live this life on a different level, be more engaged, more dedicated—I can’t explain. But then that’s only my idea, and it’s probably total bullshit, anyway.” He sat back in his chair, looking tired and defeated.
    “Maybe,” said Gemma softly, “and maybe not.” She pushed a wisp of hair back into her plait and took a breath. “Geoff, did you take anything for the game from Lucy’s house?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t go there if I can help it. Alastair doesn’t—didn’t approve of me.”
    Kincaid had no trouble imagining how Alastair Gilbert would have felt about Geoff or what he might have said.
    “Maybe Wednesday night was an exception,” persisted Gemma. “Maybe there was something you needed, and Lucy wasn’t home. You’ve slipped in and out of other people’s houses easily enough—we have the evidence of that—maybe you thought you’d just nip in for a minute and no one would be the wiser. Except Alastair came home unexpectedly and caught you. Did he threaten to send you to jail again?”
    Geoff shook his head, more vehemently this time. “No! I never went near there, I swear, Gemma. I didn’t know anything had happened until Brian saw the police cars, and then I was frantic because I thought something must have happened to Lucy or Claire.”
    “Why?” asked Gemma. “Why not assume that the commander, a middle-aged man in a high-stress job, had dropped dead of a massive coronary?”
    “I don’t know.” Geoff wound a finger in his hair and tugged at it, a curiously feminine gesture. “I just didn’t think about him, I suppose because he’s not often home that time of day.”
    “Really?” Gemma sounded puzzled.