He said, "I'm quite all right, Deb. It's difficult, as you might expect, but I'm finding my way."
Deborah averted her gaze. A rose in a bud vase needed adjusting, and she made this adjustment before she replied quietly, "We miss her terribly. Particularly Simon. He doesn't like to say. I think he believes he'll make it worse. Worse for me, and for him. He won't, of course.
How could he possibly? But it's all mixed up."
Lynley said, "We've always been something of a tangle, the four of us, haven't we?"
She looked up then although she didn't reply.
He said, "It'll sort itself out." He wanted to tell her that love was an odd thing, that it bridged divides, it faded, and it rediscovered itself. But he knew she understood this already because she was living it, as was he. So instead he said, "Simon's not here? I've something I wanted to show him."
"He's on his way home. He's been in a meeting at Gray's Inn. What've you got for him?"
"A picture," he said, and even as he said it he realised that there could exist additional pictures that might come to his aid. He went on to ask, "Deb, have you any photos of your opening at the Portrait Gallery?"
"D'you mean my own photos? I didn't take my camera."
No, he told her. He meant publicity photos. Had there been anyone at the National Portrait Gallery that night, taking pictures of the opening of the Cadbury show? Perhaps for use in a brochure, perhaps for a magazine or a newspaper.
"Ah," she said. "You're talking about pictures of celebrities and celebrities-to-be? The beautiful people holding champagne flutes and showing off their spray tans and dental work? I can't say we had an enormous number of those turn up, Tommy. But there were some photos being taken. Come with me."
She took him to Simon's study, at the front of the house. There, from an old Canterbury next to Simon's desk, she unearthed a copy of Hello! She made a face and said, "It was a rather slow day for glamorous events in town."
Hello! , he saw, had done its usual business with those who might be considered the Beautiful People. These individuals had posed obligingly. It was a gratifying two-page spread of pictures.
There had been quite a crowd at the photographic exhibit. Lynley recognised a few movers and shakers of London society in addition to those longing to become one of this ilk.
Among the pictures, there were candid shots as well, and within these, he found Deborah and Simon in conversation with Jemima Hastings and a saturnine man who looked like trouble. He expected to learn that the bloke was one of the men connected in some way to the dead girl, but he was surprised to learn he was looking upon Matt Jones, the new partner of Sidney St. James, Simon's younger sister.
"Sidney's quite mad about him," Deborah said. "Simon, on the other hand, thinks she's merely mad. He's rather a mystery - this is Matt, not Simon, of course. He disappears for weeks at a time and says he's off working for the government. Sidney thinks he's a spy. Simon thinks he's a hit man."
"What do you think?"
"I can never get ten words out of him, Tommy. To be honest, he makes me a bit nervous."
Lynley found a picture of Sidney, then: tall, lithe, striking a pose with champagne in hand and her head thrown back. It was supposed to be candid - indeed, she was in conversation with a swarthy bloke tossing his drink down his throat - but it was not for nothing that Sidney was a professional model. Despite the crowd round them, she knew when a camera was on her.
There were other pictures, posed and candid. They needed a closer scrutiny. Indeed, the magazine itself would likely have a score of photos on file that hadn't even been printed in these pages and Lynley realised they might be valuable and that they might want tracking down. He asked Deborah if he could keep the magazine. She said of course, but did he think that Jemima's killer had been there?
He said anything was possible. So everything had to be explored.
St. James arrived then. The front door opened, and they heard his uneven footsteps in the entry. Deborah went to the door of his study, saying, "Tommy's here, Simon. He's wanting you."
St. James joined them. There was an awkward moment in which Lynley's old friend assessed his