“Why'd she keep it a secret?”
“Because of the lover, perhaps.” Barbara could tell from Lynley's voice that he was chewing this over mentally. “Because of plans they had.”
“Some married bloke, then?”
“Check out the financial management firm. He could be there.” Lynley related his own information. He concluded with “If the lover in London is a married chap who'd set Nicola up as a permanent mistress in Fulham, it's not the sort of thing she'd want to broadcast in Derbyshire. I can't see her parents feeling pleased with the news. And Britton would have been cut up as well.”
“But what was she doing in Derbyshire in the first place?” Barbara whispered to Nkata. “Her actions are contradicting themselves all over the map. Tell him, Winston.”
Nkata nodded and raised his hand to indicate that he'd heard her. He didn't argue with the inspector's points, however. Instead, he took notes. At the conclusion of Lynley's remarks, he offered the details about Terry Cole. Considering the scope of them in conjunction with the brevity of time Nkata had been back in town, Lynley's comment upon the constable's conclusion was “Good God, Winnie. How have you managed all this? Are you working telepathically?”
Barbara turned from the window to get Nkata's attention, but she didn't manage it before he spoke. He said, “Barb's on to the boy. She did Battersea this morning. She talked to—”
“Havers?” Lynley's voice sharpened. “Is she with you, then?”
Barbara's shoulders sagged.
“Yeah. She's writing—”
Lynley cut in. “Didn't you tell me she was going through Maiden's past arrests?”
“She was doing, yeah.”
“Have you completed that search, Havers?” Lynley asked.
Barbara blew out a breath. Lie or truth? she wondered. A lie would serve her immediate purposes, but it would sink her ship at the end of the day. “Winston suggested I trek out to Battersea,” she told Lynley. “I was just about to go back to CRIS, when he showed up with the information on the girl. I was thinking, sir, that her working for Upman doesn't make sense when you look at the fact that she'd dropped out of law college and had another job in London that she'd apparendy taken leave from for some reason, if she even had another job at all, because we've yet to check that out. And anyway, if there's a lover, as you've said, and if she was getting herself ready to be supported by him, why the hell would she be spending a summer working in the Peaks?”
“You need to get back on CRIS” was Lynley's reply. “I've had a word with Maiden and he's given us some possibilities to look into from his time with SO 10. Take down these names and deal with them, Havers.” He began reciting, spelling when necessary. There were fifteen names in all.
When she had them, Barbara said, “But, sir, don't you think that this Terry Cole business—”
What he thought, Lynley interrupted, was that as an SO 10 officer, Andrew Maiden would have overturned rocks and uncovered slugs, worms, and insects from all walks of life. He could have struck up an acquaintance during his time in undercover who had proved fatal years later. Thus, once Barbara was done looking for the obvious vengeance seekers, she was to read the files again for a more subtle connection: like a disappointed snout whose efforts hadn't been sufficiently rewarded by the police.
“But don't you think—”
“I've told you what I think, Barbara. I've given you an assignment. I'd like you to get on with it.”
Barbara got the message. She said, “Sir,” in reply, a polite affirmative. She nodded to Nkata and left the office. But she took no more than two steps from the doorway,
“Get on to the financial management firm” Lynley said. “I'm going to have a look at the girl's car. If we can find that pager and if the lover's phoned in, the number will put us on to him.”
“Right,” Winston said, and rang off.
Barbara slid back into Lynley's office, sidling along the wall casually as if she'd never had an order to do anything else. “So who is it who told her in Islington that he'd see her dead before he'd let her do it? The lover? Her dad? Britton? Cole? Upman? Or someone we haven't got on to yet? And what's the it anyway, when it's at home? Settling in to be some heavy punter's fluffy bit on the side? Going for the dosh with a bit of blackmail against the lover—that's always nice, isn't it? Having it off with more than one man? What d'you think?”