themselves scarce until the fuss died down.' His brows drew together in an angry frown. 'I accept Leo had his faults but he was a damn good catch for the daughter of an East End crook. My view is, Jinx wasn't going to let him go that easily. She flared up the May weekend for no good reason and then changed her mind. That's how I see it. Kept him with her till she went to Fordingbridge, then lost him back to Meg while she was away. I mean to say, if she was planning to back out of the whole thing, then why didn't she tell her father to send out cancellation notices during the week she spent at the Hall? That would have been the obvious time to do it. You see, it doesn't add up.'
'Yes,' said Cheever slowly, 'I see your point.'
*15*
TUESDAY, 28TH JUNE, THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-11:30 A.M.
When Alan Protheroe summoned Jinx to his office to break the news of Meg's and Leo's deaths, she drew away from him into the corner of the wide leather sofa in his office, a distant expression on her gaunt face. He wondered if she was even listening, or if, like so much in her life, she was choosing to blank out what she didn't want to hear. She, for her part, refused to be soothed by the sympathy in his voice or the look of compassion in his eyes, both of which she felt were false. Dr. Protheroe was not a man to take on trust, she thought.
'Bar the identities of the two bodies, I doubt many of the other details in the newspaper are true,' he finished quietly. 'It reads to me as if Leo's father has made some sweeping statements in a moment of grief which he will probably come to regret, but I'm afraid we can expect another visit from the police and I didn't want you to hear about this from them.'
She favored him with a tight little smile. 'I've known since Sunday night. But you knew that already, didn't you?'
He nodded.
'Who told you?'
'Simon Harris. He phoned yesterday afternoon. He wanted to warn me that the story would break today.'
A look of relief crossed her face. 'Simon?' She searched his face. 'Why would he bother to do that?'
'I think he and his father feel this sort of treatment'-he tapped the newspaper on his lap-'isn't justice. He talked about his mother and Sir Anthony whipping up a kangaroo court.'
'Caroline doesn't like me at all,' she said disconsolately. 'For some reason she's always blamed me for Meg's behavior. She thinks Meg fell into bad company. I suppose she looked at Adam and decided, like father like daughter.'
'It's not uncommon. We all blame other people for our children's failings.' He paused. 'Why didn't you tell me the police visit upset you?''
She rubbed her eyes. 'I don't trust the police,' she said, 'but it's a form of paranoia that I'm not particularly happy about. I might have been imagining things. There was no sense in worrying you unnecessarily until I knew for certain.'
'You could have told me yesterday.'
'Yesterday I was paranoid about what my father was planning.'
He raised his hands in a gesture of despair. 'How am I supposed to help you if you keep everything to yourself?'
'You're a very arrogant man,' she said without hostility. 'Hasn't it occurred to you that I might not
'Of course,' he said curtly, 'but that doesn't mean I have to stop offering it. Do you think my other patients want my help any more than you do? They begin with good intentions, but within hours, most of them are climbing the walls to get out for their next fix. The only arrogance I see is on your side, Jinx.'
'Why?'
'You think you're clever enough to outwit me, the police, and your father combined.'
She shifted her gaze back to his. 'I'm certainly contemptuous of fools who shut themselves away in their ivory towers, and close their eyes to the madness outside,' she snapped. 'Russell was murdered. For ten years I avoided any sort of serious involvement. Then, when I thought the dust had settled, I let myself go and fell for Leo. Now he's dead too, along with the only real friend I've ever had. So precisely what sort of help are you offering me? Help in remembering the deaths of my husband, my friend, and my lover?' She looked very angry. 'I like it the way it is. I don't want to
He shook his head impatiently.' 'You know perfectly well it's not rubbish. I've looked at some of your published work, and that same theme appears over and over again.' He leaned forward. 'You seem to see the world in extraordinarily stark terms. Black and white. Good and evil. For every kindness, a cruelty; for every positive, a negative. Why are there are no gray areas for you, Jinx?''
'Because perfection can only exist in an imperfect setting. In a perfect setting it becomes ordinary.'
'So it's perfection that fascinates you?'
She held his gaze for a moment but didn't reply.
'No,' he said, answering for her, 'it's imperfection that fascinates you. You're more attracted by the black than by the white.' He studied her face closely. 'The backgrounds to your pictures are always more compelling than the subjects, except in the few instances where you've turned the idea on its head by making ugliness the subject and beauty the setting.'
She shrugged. 'I expect you're right. Black humor certainly appeals to me.'
