A Place of Hiding (Inspector Lynley, #12)(83)

“Debs!” Cherokee’s smile was part greeting but larger part relief. “I need an ally. She’s not eating.”

“I am. ” China looked exhausted, more so than she had on the previous day, with great dark circles beneath her eyes. She’d tried to hide these with makeup but hadn’t been able to bring it off. She said, “Channel Islands Cooperative. I thought it would be health food. But...” She made a hopeless gesture that indicated the shop round them. The only fresh items that the cooperative appeared to contain were eggs, cheese, pre-pack meat, and bread. Everything else was either tinned or frozen. Disappointing for someone used to browsing through the organic food markets of California.

“Cherokee’s right,” Deborah said. “You need to eat.”

“I rest my case.” Cherokee began piling items into the wire basket without much regard for what he was choosing.

China looked too dispirited to argue. Within a few minutes, their purchases were complete. Outside, Cherokee was eager to hear a report on what the day had revealed so far to the St. Jameses. Deborah suggested they return to the flat before they have their conversation, but China said, “God, no. I’ve just got out. Let’s walk.”

So they wandered down to the harbour and crossed over to the longest of the piers. This reached out into Havelet Bay and extended to the heel print of land on which Castle Cornet squatted, sentry to the port. They continued beyond this fortification, right to the end, tracing a modest curve into the Channel waters.

At the end of the pier, it was China who brought the real subject up. She said to Deborah, “It’s bad, huh? I can see it on your face. You might as well spill it,” and despite her words, she turned to look at the water, the great grey heaving mass beneath them. Not so very far away, another island—was it Sark? Alderney? Deborah wondered—rose like a resting leviathan in the mist.

“What’ve you got, Debs?” Cherokee set down the grocery bags and took his sister’s arm.

China moved away from him. She looked like a woman preparing herself for the worst. Deborah very nearly decided to paint things in a positive light. But there was no positive light that she could find, and even if there had been, she knew she owed her friends the facts. So she told the Rivers what she and Simon had managed to discover from their conversations at Le Reposoir. No fool, China saw the logical direction that the thoughts of any reasonable person would take once it became clear that she had not only spent time alone with Guy Brouard but had also been seen—ostensibly and by more than one person—following him on the morning of his death.

She said, “You think I had something going with him, don’t you, Deborah? Well. That’s just great.” Her voice contained a blend of animus and despair.

“Actually, I—”

“And why not, anyway? Everyone must think it. A few hours alone, a couple of days...And he was rich as hell. So sure. We were f*cking like goats.”

Deborah blinked at the crude term. It was greatly unlike the China she’d known, who’d always been the more romantic of the two of them, devoted to one man for years, content with a future painted out in pastels. China continued. “It didn’t matter to me that he was old enough to be my grandfather. Hell, there was money involved. It never matters who you’re f*cking when there’s money to be had from the job, does it?”

“Chine!” Cherokee protested. “Jeez.”

China seemed to realise what she’d just said even as her brother spoke. More, she seemed to understand in a flash how it could be applied to Deborah’s life, because she said hastily, “God. Deborah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Deborah said.

“I didn’t mean...I wasn’t thinking of you and...you know.”

Tommy, Deborah thought. China meant she hadn’t been thinking of Tommy and Tommy’s money. It had never mattered but it had always been there, just one of a thousand things that looked so good from the outside if one didn’t know how the inside felt. She said, “It’s all right. I know.”

China said, “It’s just that...Do you really believe that I...Wi th him? Do you?”

“She was just telling you what she knows, Chine,” Cherokee said.

“We need to know what everyone’s thinking, don’t we?”

China swung on him. “Listen, Cherokee. Shut up. You don’t know what you’re...Oh God, forget it. Just shut up, okay?”

“I’m only trying—”

“Well, stop trying. Stop hovering, too. I can’t even breathe. I can’t take a step without you following me.”

“Look. No one wants you to have to go through this,” Cherokee said to her.

She gave a laugh that ruptured, but she stopped the sob by bringing a fist to her mouth. “Are you crazy or what?” she demanded. “Everyone wants me to go through this. A patsy is needed. I fill the bill.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why we’ve got friends here now.” Cherokee shot a smile at Deborah and then nodded at the lilies she was holding. “Friends with flowers. Where’d you get those, Debs?”

“In the market.” Impulsively, she extended them to China. “That flat needs a bit of cheering up, I think.”

China looked at the flowers, then at Deborah’s face. “I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said.