Back off, she told herself. This is not your patch, Barb. She was suddenly aware of how bloody hot the incident room was. It was worse than an oven. The harsh light of late afternoon poured in like an armed invasion. When, she wondered, had the country ever had a summer this beastly and miserable at the seaside?
"I checked on Trevor's alibi," she said. "I stopped by Racon Jewellery on my way back here.
According to her mum, Rachel did a runner right after I left them. Her mum couldn't say where Rachel was on the murder night because she herself was dancing in some ballroom competition in Chelmsford. She did say something interesting, though."
"What's that?" Emily asked.
"She said, 'My Rachel only goes with white boys, and mind you, remember that, Sergeant.'
What d'you think that means?"
"That she's worried about something."
"We know that Querashi was probably meeting someone that night. We have only Trevor Ruddock's word that Querashi was cottaging in the first place. And even if Querashi was cottaging, that doesn't mean he doesn't swing both ways."
"You're putting Querashi with Rachel Winfield now?" Emily asked.
"She gave him that jewellery receipt, Em. She had to have a reason." Barbara considered one other element of the puzzle that they'd not yet tried to place. "But that doesn't really take care of the question of the bracelet: what Theo Shaw's doing with it. I've assumed that Sahlah gave it to him. But he always could have taken it from Querashi's body. If he did that, though, it means that Sahlah's lie about having tossed the bracelet from the pier was prompted by the fact that she knows that whoever has the bracelet is involved in all this. Why else lie?"
Behind her, Emily said with some passion, "Jesus.
This is just like going down the goddamn rabbit hole."
The tone of Emily's comment prompted Barbara to study the DCI more closely. Emily was leaning her bum against the edge of the table. For the first time, Barbara noticed the smudged skin under her eyes.
"Em?" she said.
"If it's one of them, Barb, this town's going to blow."
Barbara knew what she was implying: If the killer was English and the town caved in to more racial unrest because of that fact, heads would roll. And the first would be Emily Barlow's.
In the silence that hung between them, Barbara heard voices in the entry downstairs.
Terse words were spoken by a man and answered by a woman sounding calm and professional. Barbara recognised the man, at least. Muhannad Malik was in reception, arrived for his afternoon meeting with the police.
Azhar would be with him. So the moment had arrived when Barbara knew she ought to tell Emily Barlow the truth.
She opened her mouth to do so but found that she couldn't. If she fully explained - at least as fully as she was able, considering how little she had bothered to examine her motives before setting forth to Balford - Emily would have to dismiss her from the case. She could hardly view Barbara as an objective party in the investigation when at the side of at least one of the suspects moved a man who lived a bare fifty yards from her own shack-like dwelling in London.
And Barbara wanted to stay on the case for more than one reason now. While it was true that she'd initially come to Balford-le-Nez for the sake of her Pakistani neighbours, she realised that she wished to remain for the sake of her colleague.
Barbara was well aware of the myriad prices women had to pay to succeed in policework.
Men in the profession didn't have to persuade a single soul that their competence was unaffected by their sex. Women lived with having to do that daily. So if she could help Emily maintain her position and prove herself as a DCI, she was determined to do it.
"I'm on your side, Em," she said quietly.
"Are you." Once again Emily said the two words; she didn't ask them. Which reminded Barbara of another fact: The higher one climbed in authority and power, the fewer true friends one actually had. But a moment later, Emily roused herself from whatever black thoughts of the future were troubling her. She said, "So where was Theo Shaw on Friday night?"
"He says he was at home. His grandmother was there, but she won't be able to confirm anything, as she'd gone to bed."
"That part of his story is probably true," Emily said. "Agatha Shaw - that's the grandmother - had