A Place of Hiding (Inspector Lynley, #12)(37)

They hurried inside, shaking their umbrella over the rubber rain mat. Deborah left Cherokee staring at the eternal flame while she went to the reception desk and made her request.

“Acting Superintendent Lynley. We don’t have an appointment, but if he’s in and can see us...? Deborah St. James?”

There were two uniforms behind reception, and they both examined Deborah and Cherokee with an intensity suggesting an unspoken belief that the two of them had come strapped with explosives. One of them made a phone call while the other attended to a delivery being offered by Federal Express.

Deborah waited until the phone caller said to her, “Give it a few minutes,” at which point she returned to Cherokee, who said, “D’you think this’ll do any good?”

“No way of knowing,” she replied. “But we’ve got to try something.”

Tommy came down himself to greet them within five minutes, which Deborah took for a very good sign. He said, “Deb, hullo. What a surprise,”

and he kissed her on the cheek and waited to be introduced to Cherokee. They’d never met before. Despite the number of times that Tommy had come to California while Deborah had lived there, his path and the path of China’s brother had never crossed. Tommy had heard of him, naturally. He’d heard his name and was unlikely to forget it, so unusual was it when compared to English names. So when Deborah said, “This is Cherokee River,” his response was “China’s brother,” and he offered his hand in that way he had that was quintessentially Tommy: so utterly easy with himself. “Are you giving him a tour of town?” he asked Deborah.

“Or showing him you have friends in questionable places?”

“Neither,” she said. “May we talk to you? Somewhere private? If you’ve time? This is...It’s rather a professional call.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he said and within short order, he was whisking them to the lift and floors above to his office. As acting superintendent, he wasn’t in his regular spot. He was instead in a temporary office, which he was inhabiting while his superior officer convalesced from an attempt that had been made on his life in the previous month.

“How is the superintendent?” Deborah asked, seeing that Tommy in his good-hearted way hadn’t replaced a single photograph that belonged to Superintendent Malcolm Webberly with any of his own. Tommy shook his head. “Not good.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“For everyone.” He asked them to sit and joined them, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His posture asked the question What can I do for you? which reminded Deborah that he was a busy man.

So she set about telling him why they had come, with Cherokee adding what salient details he felt were needed. Tommy listened as Tommy had always listened, in Deborah’s experience: His brown eyes remained on whoever was speaking and he appeared to shut out all other noises from the offices nearby.

“How well did your sister come to know Mr. Brouard while you were his guests?” Tommy asked when Cherokee had completed the story.

“They spent some time together. They clicked because they were both into buildings. But that was it, as far as I could tell. He was friendly with her. But he was friendly with me. He seemed pretty decent to everyone.”

“Perhaps not,” Tommy noted.

“Well, sure. Obviously. If someone killed him.”

“How exactly did he die?”

“He choked to death. That’s what the lawyer found out once China was charged. That’s all the lawyer found out, by the way.”

“Strangled, d’you mean?”

“No. Choked. He choked on a stone.”

Tommy said, “A stone? Good Lord. What sort of stone? Something from the beach?”

“That’s all we know right now. Just that it’s a stone and he choked on it. Or, rather, my sister somehow choked him with it, since she’s been arrested for killing him.”

“So you see, Tommy,” Deborah added, “it doesn’t make sense.”

“Because how is China supposed to have choked him with it?” Cherokee demanded. “How’s anyone supposed to have choked him with it? What’d he do? Just open his mouth and let someone shove it down his throat?”

“It’s a question that needs to be answered,” Lynley agreed.

“It could have been an accident, even,” Cherokee said. “He could have put the stone in his mouth for some reason.”

“There’d be evidence to show otherwise,” Tommy said, “if the police have made an arrest. Someone shoving the stone down his throat would tear the roof of his mouth, possibly his tongue. Whereas if he swallowed it by mistake...Yes. I can see how they went straight to murder.”

“But why straight to China?” Deborah asked.

“There’s got to be other evidence, Deb.”

“My sister didn’t kill anyone!” Cherokee rose as he spoke. Restlessly, he walked to the window, then swung to face them. “Why can’t anyone see that?”

“Can you do anything?” Deborah asked Tommy. “The embassy suggested we hire someone, but I thought you might...Can you ring them?

The police? Make them see...? I mean, obviously, they’re not evaluating everything as they ought to. They need someone to tell them that.”