| The Perfume of the Lady With Red Hair © Xeen Note: Lynley, Havers and their sorts don’t belong to me. This takes place sometimes around “The Seed of Cunning” episode. I always wondered when watching the episode why Lynley would appear so protective of Havers.... -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o PART 1 3 WEEKS BEFORE… As soon as she heard concern in Lynley’s voice, she knew she had been an idiot to confide in him. He was stuck at his fancy dinner and did not need a scared partner to put extra pressure on him. It was no secret that his school pal Featherstonehaugh was more of a foe than an amicable figure in his life. To go to this dinner must be excruciating, especially with Lady Pipper being a friend of Helen’s. She wished she could be there with him to hold his hand. It would have been the best of both worlds; she would not be alone in her apartment and he wouldn’t be worried about her being alone and rely upon a true friend. It was a bit farfetched though. Probably she was only imagining he was THAT worried while he was just looking for an excuse to cut this social event short. Not that he ever invited her to come along in the first place, she thought, though she would have had to turn down his offer. On a budget with her dating expenses drawing heavily on her savings, there was no way she could afford to buy some fancy clothes for a unique special evening --not to mention private tuition to learn how to behave properly and match his distinguished bearing, she scoffed. “I’ll be alright sir, don’t worry. I’m pretty sure I’m imagining things. Yes, yes. No, you don’t have to come over. I’ll be perfectly fine. Enjoy your evening sir.” She hung up and turned back to the window. It was too dark outside for her to see anything so she switched off the table lamp and came closer to the pane. Her head pressed to the glass, she peered outside to search for any unusual moving shadows, to no avail. After a while, she finally came back to her senses, put her parka on the next chair, took off her shoes and went to the bathroom. She will have a long warm shower. No date tonight, no pretenses. She undressed and let the water unwind her tense body. She could not be in any danger. Her place had not been ransacked, no one had attacked her. She was only under the vague impression she was being followed. If the ones who murdered Ramsey and his friend wanted her dead, she would be already. No need to get paranoid. She draped herself in a fluffy towel and dried her hair. She was in need of a good haircut and a dye; her roots must be close to one inch long. She dragged on in front of her mirror, twitching her mouth, pinching her cheeks, tugging her hair and sighed. Under the crude light of the bathroom lamp, every line and imperfection stood out rather conspicuously, it was utterly depressing. She applied some cheap lotion on her face and neck and discovered she was hungry. She fixed herself a sandwich with some leftovers from a two days old takeout and dropped on the sofa in her flannel pyjamas and dressing gown. Mechanically she turned on the television and zapped through the channels until the soothing images of glaciers, arctic seas and icebergs drew her attention. -o- After the endless formal dinner, Lynley had to comply with the rule and follow the male assistance to the library. Pungent smell of cigars and expensive liquors bestowed an old fashioned atmosphere to the place. Fortunately, he was able to take his leave just before eleven along with two other guests. He was sitting in his car, just a block away from Featherstonehaugh’s and toying with the idea of ringing Christine Miller. He was no Spring chicken and noticed that she was very disappointed that he had called her for the case, and only for the case. Despite their casual flirting, he was mildly attracted to her. They only moved in the same circles, they probably have the same background and education. He was prone to admit that tonight he had missed Helen but all for the wrong reasons. He had not only missed having a woman at his side, but the companionship of a member of a rich, privileged, and fashionable social class. Havers was right. He was a member of an endangered species, a socially dominant community on the decline. He put back Christine’s card in his wallet and started the car. He will pay a visit to Havers instead. It had been a couple of weeks now that he had sought help and guidance from her. Riding to Acton, he mulled over the case. He could deal with any good old fashioned murder, the usual love triangle, passion, jealousy and greed. He was not fit for that industrial espionage nonsense and grand scheme politics. In fact, it was why he had basically chosen to join the Met instead of going to MI5, despite the fact that becoming an agent might have been his natural inclination from a more romantic view point. He turned left at Edgware Road and continued to follow A5 to Old Marylebone Road to Notting Hill. He was realizing that it was actually more painful to investigate at the House for him than it will ever be for Havers. He was in no position to defend himself, the consensus being that it was a despicable ambition for a Lord to become a police officer, and the fact that he was very good at it making obviously the matter worse. To be honest, from Simon’s condescending attitude to every doorkeeper’s or clerk’s blatant contempt, it was just one blow after another and there was not much more he was ready to take. There was no traffic on account of the late hour and he arrived in no time. Turning at Western Avenue he left Friary Road on his right, slowed down and parked in front of Havers’. Locking carefully the car, he gave a quick look around but could not spot any surveillance team. The more he thought over Havers’ concern, the more he was persuaded that it was a tail initiated by MI5. When such a large amount of money pertaining to government use is at stake, it is only logical that her Majesty’s spooks are involved. He crossed the street and his hand was reaching out to her doorbell when he heard a distant radio transmission. So he was right, MI5 was tailing her --and probably him as well. He checked his watch. It was past midnight. Retrieving his mobile from his coat pocket he speed-dialled Havers and moved away from the front of her building. “… err, Havers.” Her voice was coarse and unsteady; he recognized ‘EastEnders’ opening credits, the Beeb was probably broadcasting a repeat. “Barbara, it’s Tommy… Lynley.” “Oh, sir, sorry, I must have dozed off in front of the telly. What time is it?” “Midnight.” “How was your evening?” “Not so bad I guess.” “Do you… do you need anything sir? Is everything alright?” She sounded more alert. From the other side of the street he watched her front window and spotted fading lights as she went along in her apartment, turning them off and on. “No, Havers, I’m good. I was just checking on you. Anything new I should be aware of?” “Nope sir but I was thinking, what if it was special branch?” “You mean MI5?” “… or 6,” she joked, “with missile prices ticking up, it could be money well spent to tail us. We’re going to find that missing file, aren’t we?” “I hope so. Well Havers, if you want me to come over and check the perimeter I can be at your place in…” “No sir, I’m good but thanks. I’ll check for any peeping tom before going to bed and I promise you’ll have my full report on your desk tomorrow morning.” “Don’t forget we meet directly at the House,” he said, hurrying back to his car. The last thing he needed was Havers finding out he was stalking her. He started the engine and headed back to Western Avenue. “See you tomorrow then. Good night Havers.” “Night sir.” -o- “I can’t believe it’s actually fun to work so close to your lots,” she said provocatively. “Is it?” he smiled putting his hand on the small of her back to lead her in the right direction. She glanced obliquely and grinned. Lynley was even better good looking than the first time they met and she simply loved the way his was sporting his hair at the moment. She always had a soft spot for longer hair and Lynley seemed very comfortable with this unorthodox hairdo. She could not help thinking that it would be great to actually take him upon his offer for a nightcap but she knew better. She had to make sure he called his wife first and sort out the mess he was into. Either he was still married and ready to make amends or he had to decide to get a divorce and move on with his life. She suspected that he was not the divorce type. It was going to be very painful when he’d come to realize his marriage was over and that he had to accept it. There was no way she was going to be in the thick of their private disagreement. Lynley had been her only beacon of hope lately and she did not want to put their friendship at risk. First of all, he should get in touch with Helen to inform her about Lady Pipper’s involvement in their present investigation. She might not be his love interest and his wife per se any more but she was supposed to be his long-time friend. She gave him an uncertain look. It was not the best of times to speak up. They went through a huge ornate entrance and she stopped to have a look at the incredible setting. “Seeing all of this, I have to tell you sir I’m surprised you could resist your call of duty,” she grinned. “I could live with settling down here part time mollycoddled by a personal assistant, given free phone and surrounded by all this butlerish population of doorkeepers.” “I’m sure you would but surely you must know there’s more to it… and why I did resist the siren songs?” “I can tell, well, I guess,” she smiled straying from her path to enter the next room when Lynley moved aside to let her pass. “No regrets?” “On my part never but you ought to ask my mother about that.” He frowned and she kept silent for a while. “So, what do you think? Now that your lady friend told you what to look for, we might try to actually find where to look.” “She’s not my ‘lady friend’,” he said defensively, eliciting a surprised glance from his her, “she’s a lawyer at Parker, Small and Hickey esq. who happened to work for the House and helped me with the case; and you’re right, we should pay another visit to Mr. David Thompson, I would bet he knows more than he is telling.” “I bet that your old buddy the good lord whatever his name is pronounced knows a lot too.” “Or maybe he is covering for his wife…” “… or lobbying for her, which means our favourite call-girl is out of the picture.” “Yes she should be.” “When are you going to tell her?” “Who, Laetitia?” “No, no… -Helen, for god’s sake!” she said. How could she let the genie out of the bottle when she was so adamant against it? She bit her tongue, but kept going. “You’ve got to tell her about this case. If she’s ever found accessory to…” To her surprise, Lynley did not go berserk or mad or even annoyed. He merely smiled and gave her a gentle nudge. “Havers, who’s the one the fickle finger of fate has fallen on tonight?” he interrupted her. “Sorry sir… I… I don’t, what do you…” “Who’s the lucky guy?” “Oh, err, you mean my date?” So he was listening after all or probably adjusting to a partner with a social life, her mock social life, she thought. “Thursday is it? Not tonight, but on Friday I’m supposed to meet someone for the third time at the Windmill.” “In Mayfair,” he looked genuinely surprised. “Isn’t it a bit… posh?” “Nope, that would be a pub on Tabernacle street sir. You know the kind where they offer an average selection of beer and a pretty depressing smoking area. I’ve been there twice before. At least I know what to expect from the place,” she confessed rather cheerfully. “The fact of meeting a total stranger isn’t it a bit depressing too, Havers?” “Think of it as something purely therapeutic sir. See, you’re supposed to pay to see a shrink and hope to get well or… better, well, I guess.” She shrugged. “Here I pay to get blind dates and they pay for the drinks, and possibly my dates can be good looking or witty or both; and maybe I’ll get lucky.” God, it sounded desperate. “It’s not a bad deal sir, what do you think?” “I don’t think anything Havers, as long as you don’t throw pictures of your suitors in my face in public places.” “Roger that sir, loud and clear.” “So let’s get to work Havers!” -o- And it had turned into a complete mess. Not only had they lost the seven missing pages but their main suspect was dead. He could not help but feeling guilty for Tim Sadler’s death, even though nobody was holding him responsible. On top of everything else, Featherstonehaugh and his American friend had the easy job of making fun of his quixotic attitude. He was left with the bitter feeling of having chased his tail for a week. As far as everyone was concerned, the investigation was over and there was not much he could do about it, except to find out who were Sadler’s killers and get even with Featherstonehaugh. Fortunately, Havers was more cheerful than he’d ever seen her before, since her latest beau had turned out to be a potential match. He flipped the card on his desk. Christine Miller was a fine woman and he was reluctant to ‘use’ her for he knew it was too soon for him to contemplate a new relationship. He should muster the courage to call Helen instead --and stop to feel sorry for himself, he thought, pouring himself another glass of scotch. And stop drinking. He sighed and tried to regroup. It was Friday night, the case was closed, he had a whole long weekend ahead of him and it was probably too late to ask Havers for a drink. He shook his head realizing that she was out on one of her blind date, anyway. In an ideal world, she would have wised up to the fact that he needed companionship and helped him with his failing marriage. That’s what partners were for. He swallowed one last gulp and smiled. If he was lucky, he could have that drink with Havers at last and without having to ask her --again. He would simply surprise her at the Windmill. Hopefully, she would still be there and bored with her date. Pondering his blood alcohol content was already high, he called a cab. No need to be charged with DUI. Half an hour later, he was sitting at the bar and nursing another scotch. His eyes skimmed the place. If he was not mistaken, Havers was facing him four tables away. He knew she would never believe his presence was the result of a coincidence. It would have to be her move. If she came to the bar to meet him, he did not intend to pretend he was not looking for her. It might not be very subtle, but he really needed to talk. A tall brunette at the other end of the bar had obviously made her choice and was staring at him seductively. He turned his back to her and found himself facing Havers. She was wearing a revealing wide-necked green sweater which followed the line of her collarbone and her face was far more animated now that it had been when she had left the Met. She tilted her head and smiled tentatively. “Please, help me sir,” she said. She waved at the man at the table. “I saw you come in and I… -I, you…” “What is it Barbara?” “I’ve been to the loo several time already,” she said in a low voice. “Err… well, I’m not sure what I am supposed to do with this information,” he said, his eyebrows rocketing. “I was just pretending to be sick and hoping that he would let me go. But now he wants to drive me home.” “Oh, I see,” he hesitated. “I mean this guy is a complete moron and I can’t find a way to get him out of my way.” She was clenching her hands nervously, a fake grin displayed on her face and she looked worried. “I thought you fancied him,” he said gently leaning towards her. She went red in the face and bit her lower lip. “I did, and let me assure you it was a big mistake.” Her eyes went wide and distraught. “And now he wants to make a home run even though he didn’t go to first base yet.” He froze in disbelief. He didn’t want her to feed him all this information about her sex life or absence of it. “What do you want me to do? Challenge him to a duel?” “Don’t be an idiot,” she cracked a smile. “I told him you were a friend and that we lost sight of each other.” “Am I happy to see you?” “I guess,” she said, glancing uncomfortably to her table. The man waved back at her. Lynley took her hands and kissed them. “What… what are you doing… sir?” “You said we haven’t seen each other in a while. It’s appropriate that I demonstrate my happiness then, don’t you think?” Letting go of her hands, he put his arm around her and hugged her. He felt her heart racing. “Is he looking at us?” he asked. “Yes,” she mumbled against his chest. “You said I was an old flame?” “Not in so many words. I was trying not to be specific. I was not sure you’d be supportive.” “Havers, you’re my partner, you should know better. It is time to deliver the coup de grace, don’t you think?” He smiled softly, cupped her head in his hands and kissed her lightly. She tensed and tried to move away. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Her lips parted in surprise and she felt his breath mixing with her own. “Is he the type to fly off the handle?” he whispered against her mouth. “I would not want to antagonize him by French kissing you in front of him.” “I… I don’t know.” “He who dares, wins,” he grinned, his face brushing hers. “Sorry Havers.” He kissed her again, a real kiss this time, and she found herself responding more than willingly. At one point, she had to force herself not to toss her arms around his neck frantically like a teenager on a first date. By the time they stopped to get their breath back, her admirer was gone. -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o so what do you think? shall I write more? TBC |
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