"She loathed Sydeham more than Gabriel that night, because he'd got her into Joy's play in the first place. She felt he'd betrayed her.
She wanted to hurt him. So she went to Gabriel's bedroom at half past eleven and waited there, to take her revenge on her husband in coin that he would well understand. But what she didn't realise was that, in going to Gabriel, she'd given Sydeham the opportunity he had been looking for ever since Joy made the remark about John Darrow at dinner."
"I suppose Hannah Darrow didn't know that Sydeham was married."
Lynley shook his head. "Evidently not. She'd only seen them once together and even then another man was with them. All she knew was that Sydeham had access to drama coaches and voice coaches and everything else that went into success. As far as Hannah was concerned, Sydeham was the key to her new life. And for a time, she was his key to a sexual prowess he had been lacking."
"Do you suppose Joy Sinclair knew about Sydeham's involvement with Hannah Darrow?" St. James asked.
"She hadn't got that far in her research. And John Darrow was determined she never would. She merely made an innocent remark at dinner. But Sydeham couldn't afford to take a chance. So he killed her. And of course, Irene's references to the diaries at the theatre yesterday were what took him to Hampstead last night."
Deborah had been listening quietly, but now she spoke, perplexed. "Didn't he take a terrible chance when he killed Joy Sinclair, Tommy? Couldn't his wife have returned to their room at any moment and found him gone? Couldn't he have run into someone in the hall?"
Lynley shrugged. "He was fairly sure where Joanna was after all, Deb. And he knew Robert Gabriel well enough to believe that Gabriel would keep her with him as long as he could possibly continue to demonstrate his virility. Everyone else in the house was easily accounted for. So once he heard Joy return from Vinney's room shortly before one, all he had to do was wait a bit for her to fall asleep."
Deborah was caught on an earlier thought. "But his own wife..." she murmured, looking pained.
"I should guess that Sydeham was willing to let Gabriel have his wife once or twice if he could get away with murder. But he wasn't willing to let the man boast about it in front of the company. So he waited until Gabriel was alone at the theatre. Then he caught him in his dressing room."
"I wonder if Gabriel knew who was beating him," St. James mused.
"As far as Gabriel was concerned, it probably could have been any number of men. And he was lucky it wasn't. Anyone else might have killed him. Sydeham didn't want to do that."
"Why not?" Deborah asked. "After what happened between Gabriel and Joanna, I should think Sydeham would be more than happy to see him dead."
"Sydeham was nobody's fool. The last thing he wanted to do was narrow my field of suspects." Lynley shook his head. His next words reflected the shame he felt. "Of course, what he didn't know was that I had suffi ciently narrowed it myself already. A field of one. Havers said it best. Police work to be proud of."
The other two did not respond. Deborah twisted the lid on the porcelain teapot, slowly tracing the petal of a delicate pink rose. St. James moved a bit of sandwich here and there on his plate. Neither of them looked at Lynley.
He knew they were avoiding the question he had come to ask, knew they were doing it out of loyalty and love. Still, undeserving as he was, Lynley found himself hoping that the bond between them all was strong enough to allow them to see that he needed to fi nd her in spite of her desire not to be found. So he asked the question.
"St. James, where's Helen? When I got back to Joy's house last night, she'd vanished. Where is she?"
He saw Deborah's hand drop from the teapot, saw it tighten on the pleats of her russet wool skirt. St. James lifted his head.
"That's too much to ask," he responded.
It was the answer Lynley had expected, the answer he knew was owed to him. Yet, in spite of this, he pressed them. "I can't change what happened. I can't change the fact that I was a fool. But at least I can apologise.