"I suppose. But I shouldn't have reprimanded him, Isabelle. It was rather a knee-jerk reaction, I'm afraid."
She waved him off. "As I said, it doesn't matter."
"It's not you," Lynley said. "You're meant to know that. He and Barbara have been at it for years. He has difficulty with women. His divorce ...I'm afraid it rather turned him. He's not come back from it, and he's not been able to see any fault on his part for what went on."
"What did go on?"
Lynley entered, shutting the door behind him. "His wife had an affair."
"Ask me if I'm surprised about that."
"She had an affair with another woman."
"I can hardly blame her. That bloke would make Eve choose the snake over Adam."
"They're a couple now, and they have custody of John's two girls." He observed her steadily as he said this. She shifted her gaze away.
"I can't feel sorry for him."
"Who could blame you? But sometimes these things are good to know, and I doubt his file said it."
"You're right. It didn't. Are you thinking we have something in common, John Stewart and I?"
"People at odds often do." And then in a shift, "Will you come with me, Isabelle? You'll need to bring your car, as I won't be coming back this way. There's someone I want you to meet."
She frowned. "What's this about?"
"Not much, actually. But as it's the end of the day ...We can have a meal afterwards, if you'd like. Sometimes talking over a case brings out something not considered before. Arguing about it does the same."
"Is that what you want to do? Argue?"
"We do have areas of disagreement, don't we? Will you come with me?"
Isabelle looked round the office. She thought, Whyever not? and she nodded curtly.
"Give me a moment to collect my things. I'll meet you below."
When he'd left her, she used the time to make a quick trip into the ladies', where she observed herself in the mirror and saw the day playing out on her face, especially between her eyes where a deep line was making the sort of vertical incision that became permanent. She decided to repair her makeup, which gave her a reason to open her handbag. There she caught sight of those nestling infants. She knew it would take only a moment to toss one of them back.
Or all of them. But she firmly closed the bag and went to join her colleague.
Lynley didn't tell her where they were going. He merely nodded when she joined him and said he'd keep her within sight. That was the limit of their exchange before he set off in his Healey Elliott and gunned its engine as he headed upward, out of the underground car park and into the street. He manoeuvred over to the river. He was as good as his promise: He kept her within view. She was oddly comforted by this. She couldn't have said why.
Unfamiliar with London as she was, she hadn't a clue where they were going as they headed southwest along the river. It was only when she saw the golden orb atop a distant obelisk to her right that she realised they'd come to the Royal Hospital, which meant they'd reached Chelsea. The broad lawns of Ranelagh Gardens were desiccated from the weather, she saw, although a few brave souls gathered there anyway: A late-afternoon game of football was in progress.
Just beyond the gardens, Lynley turned right. He coursed along Oakley Street and then went left and left again. They were in an established Chelsea neighbourhood now, and it was characterised by quite tall redbrick homes, wrought-iron railings, and leafy trees. He pointed out a parking space to her, and he pulled ahead to wait for her to fit her car into it. When she joined him in his own car, he drove a bit farther. She saw the river up ahead of them again, along with a pub, which was where he parked. He said he'd be a moment and he went inside. He had an arrangement with the publican, he told her when he returned. When there was no parking available in Cheyne Row, which appeared to be the street's usual condition, he left his car alongside the pub and his keys with the barman as security.
He said, "It's just this way," and he directed her to one of the houses, this one at the junction of Cheyne Row and Lordship Place. She expected this building, like the others, to be a conversion as