Read Online In Pursuit Of The Proper Sinner by Elizabeth George - Free Book Online Page B

other's throats most of the time, so he must have asked a favour of someone above Hillier's head. She knew that doing so would have cost him dearly in professional pride. A man like Lynley wasn't used to going, cap in hand, to anyone. Going cap in hand to those who openly begrudged him his aristocratic birth would have been especially trying.
    She found him in his office in Victoria Block. He was on the phone with his back to the door, his chair swung round to face the window. He was saying lightly, “Darling, if Aunt Augusta's declared that a visit's in order, I don't know how we can actually avoid it. It's rather like trying to stop a typhoon … Hmm, yes. But we should be able to keep her from rearranging the furniture if Mother's agreed to come with her, shouldn't we?” He listened, then laughed at something his wife said on the other end of the line. “Yes. All right. We'll announce the wardrobes off-limits in advance …. Thank you, Helen …. Yes. She does mean well.” He rang off and swiveled his chair to face his desk. He saw Barbara in the doorway.
    “Havers,” he said, surprise in his tone. “Hullo. What're you doing here this morning?”
    She entered, saying, “I had the word from Hillier.”
    “And?”
    “A letter in my file and a quarter of an hour's speech that I'd like to forget. Cast your thoughts to Hillier's propensity for seizing the moment and throttling it and you'll have a good idea of how things played out. He's a flamer, our Dave.”
    “I'm sorry,” Lynley said. “But that was all? A lecture and a letter in your file?”
    “Not all. I've been demoted to detective constable.”
    “Ah.” Lynley reached for a magnetic container of paper clips sitting on his desk. Restlessly, his fingers explored the tops of the clips while he apparently gathered his thoughts. He said, “It could have been worse. It could have cost you everything.”
    “Right. Yes. I know.” Barbara tried to sound expansive. “Well, Hillier had his fun. No doubt he'll replay his speech for the big boys at lunch with the commissioner. I thought about telling him to screw himself about halfway through, but I held my tongue. You would've been proud of me.”
    At this, Lynley moved his chair away from the desk and stood at the window, looking out at its indifferent view of Tower Block. Barbara saw a muscle move in his jaw. She was about to venture into the arena of gratitude—his uncharacteristic reserve suggested the price he'd paid interceding on her behalf—when he finally spoke, introducing the topic himself by saying, “Barbara, I'm wondering if you know what had to be gone through to keep you from getting the sack. The meetings, the phone calls, the agreements, the compromises.”
    “I reckoned as much. Which is why I wanted to say—”
    “And all of it to keep you from getting what half of Scotland Yard think you richly deserve.”
    Barbara shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Sir, I know you put yourself out for me. I know I would have been given the sack if you hadn't interceded. And I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you recognised my actions for what they were. I wanted to tell you that you won't have any reason to regret taking my part. I won't give you a reason. Or anyone else, for that matter. I won't give anyone a reason.”
    “I wasn't the one,” Lynley said, turning back to her.
    Barbara looked at him blankly. “You … ? What?”
    “I didn't take your part, Barbara.” To his credit after making the admission, he kept his eyes on hers. She would think of that later and grudgingly admire it. Those brown eyes of his—so kind and so at odds with his head of blond hair—settled on hers and just stayed there, openly.
    Barbara frowned, trying to assimilate what he'd said. “But you … you know all the facts. I told you the story. You read the report. I thought … You just now said the meetings and the phone calls—”
    “They weren't mine,” he cut in. “In conscience, I can't