In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner

“I'm surprised you're still standing after a day packed like that.”

“I slept in the car,” Hadiyyah explained. “Almost all the way home.” She thrust her arm forward and Barbara saw that she was carrying a small stuffed frog. “See what Dad won me at the crane grab, Barbara? He's ever so good at the crane grab.”

“It's nice,” Barbara told her with a nod at the frog. “Good to practise with while you're young.”

Hadiyyah frowned and inspected the toy. “Practise with?”

“Right. Practise. Kissing.” Barbara smiled at the little girl's confusion. She put her hand on her tiny shoulder, ushered her to the table, and said, “Never mind. It was a daft joke anyway I'm sure dating will've improved enormously by the time you're ready to try it. So. What else have you got?”

What she had was a plastic bag whose handles were tied to one of the belt loops in her shorts. She said, “This is for you. Dad won it as well. At the crane grab. He's ever so-”

“Good at the crane grab,” Barbara finished for her. “Yeah. I know.”

“Because I already said.”

“But some things bear repeating,” Barbara told her. “Hand it over, then. Let's see what it is.”

With some effort Hadiyyah untangled the bag's handles and presented it to Barbara. She opened it to find inside a small, plush red velvet heart. It was trimmed with white lace.

“Well. Gosh,” Barbara said. She set the heart gingerly on the dining table.

“Isn't it lovely?” Hadiyyah gazed upon the heart with no little reverence. “Dad won it at the crane grab, Barbara. Just like the frog. I said, ‘Get her a froggie, Dad, so she'll have one as well and they can be friends.’ But he said, 'No. A frog won't do for our friend, little khushi! That's what he calls me.”

“Khushi. Yeah. I know.” Barbara felt a rapid pulse in her fingertips. She stared at the heart like the votary of a saint in the presence of relics.

“So he aimed for the heart instead. It took him three tries to get it. He could've got the elephant, I suppose, because that would've been a lot easier. Or he could've got the elephant first to get it out of the way and given it to me, except I already have an elephant, and I suppose he remembered that, didn't he? But anyway, he wanted the heart. I expect he might've brought it to you himself, but I wanted to and he said that was all right as long as your lights were on and you were still up. Was it all right? You look a bit peculiar. But your lights were on. I saw you in the window. Should I not have given it to you, Barbara?”

Hadiyyah was watching her anxiously. Barbara smiled and put an arm round her shoulders. “It's just so nice that I don't know what to say. Thanks. And thank your dad for me, won't you? Too bad expertise with the crane grab isn't a highly marketable skill.” He's ever so-

“Good. Right. I've seen that firsthand, if you recall.”

Hadiyyah recalled. She rubbed her stuffed frog against her cheek. “It's extra special to have a souvenir of a day at the sea, isn't it? Whenever we do something special together, Dad buys a souvenir for me, did you know? So I'll remember what a fine time we had. He says that's important. The remembering part. He says the remembering is just as important as the doing.”

“I wouldn't disagree.”

“Only, I wish you could'Ve come. What did you do today?”

“Work, I'm afraid.” Barbara gestured at the table where her notebook lay. Next to it sat the mailing list and the catalogues from Quiver Me Timbers. “I'm still at it.”

“Then I mustn't stay.” She retreated towards the door.

“It's okay,” Barbara said hastily. She realised how much she'd been longing for company. “I didn't mean-”

“Dad said I could only visit for five minutes. He wanted me to go straight to bed, but I asked if I could bring you your souvenir and he said, 'Five minutes, khushi! That's what he-”

“Calls you. Right. I know.”

“He was ever so nice to take me to the sea, wasn't he, Barbara?”

“The nicest there is.”

“So I must listen when he says, 'Five minutes, khushi! It's a way of saying thank-you to him.”

“Ah. Okay. Then you'd better scoot.”

“But you do like the heart?”

“Better than anything in the world,” Barbara said.

Once the child had left, Barbara approached the table. She walked carefully, as if the heart were a diffident creature who might be frightened away by sudden movement. With her eyes on the red velvet and the lace, she felt for her shoulder bag, rooted out her cigarettes, and set a match to one. She smoked moodily and she studied the heart.

A frog won't do for our friend, little khushi.

Never had nine words seemed so portentous.

CHAPTER 28

Hanken treated the black leather jacket with something akin to reverence: He donned latex gloves before handling the bag into which Lynley had deposited the garment, and when he laid the jacket onto one of the tables in the empty dining room of the Black Angel Hotel, he did it with the sort of ecclesiolatry that was generally reserved for religious services.

Lynley had phoned his colleague shortly after his futile interview with the Black Angel's employees. Hanken had taken the phone call at dinner and vowed that he'd be in Tideswell within the half hour. He was as good as his word.

Now he bent over the leather jacket and examined the hole in the back of it. Fresh-looking, he noted to Lynley, who stood across the table from him and watched the other DI scrutinise each millimeter of the perforation's circumference. Of course, they wouldn't know for certain until the jacket was placed under a microscope, Hanken continued, but the hole appeared recent because of the condition of the surrounding leather, and wasn't it going to be a treat if forensic came up with even a microscopic amount of cedar right on the edge of that hole?

“Once we have a match on that blood with

Terry Cole's, any more cedar is academic, isn't it?” Lynley pointed out. “We've got the sliver from the wound, after all.”

“We have,” Hanken said. “But I like my cake with icing.” He bagged the jacket after examining its blood-soaked lining. “This'll do to get us a warrant, Thomas. This'll do a flaming treat to get us a warrant.”

“It'll make things easier,” Lynley agreed. “And the fact that he allows the manor to be used for tournaments and the like ought to be enough to allow us to-”

“Hang on. I'm not talking about a warrant to shovel through the Brittons' territory. This”-Hanken lifted the bag-“gives us another nail to pound into Maiden's coffin.”

“I don't see how.” And then, when he saw that Hanken would expatiate on his reasons for seeking a warrant to search Maiden Hall, Lynley said quickly, “Hear me out for a moment. Do you agree that a long bow's probably our third weapon?”

“When I compare that suggestion to the hole in this jacket, I do,” Hanken said. “What're you getting at?”

“I'm getting at the fact that we already know of a location where long bows have probably been used. Broughton Manor's been the site for tournaments, hasn't it? For reenactments and fetes, from what you've told me. That being the case, and Julian being the man who hoped to marry a woman who-as we know-betrayed him in Derbyshire alone with two other men, why would we want to search Maiden Hall?”

“Because the dead girl's dad was the man who threatened her in London,” Hanken countered. “Because he was shouting that he'd see her dead before he'd let her do what she wanted to do. Because he took out a bloody bank loan to bribe her into living the way he wanted her to live, and she pocketed that money, played the game by his rules for three short months, and then said, ‘Right. Well, thanks mounds for the corn. It's been great fun, Dad, but I'm off to London to squeeze blokes' bollocks in a cylinder for a living. Hope you