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BUSINESS CONTACTS Advertising information for both print and online can be found here.Elizabeth George - Careless in Red To the memory of Stephen Lawrence and 22 April 1993, when he was murdered in Eltham, Southeast London, by five men who have gone unpunished by the British judicial system to this day If thou art indeed my father, then thou hast stained thy sword in the lifeblood of thy son. By then, the end of April had arrived, although he had only the vaguest idea of that. The forty-third day of this walk had taken the same shape as the forty-two days that had preceded it. He‘d get to use the lights and the siren, which generally happened only in summer when a tourist in a hurry made a vehicular misjudgment with dire results. You came away from it calling the situation murder. ‖ ―It‘s stretching, but perhaps he wasn‘t in a position to defend himself. He projects that uselessness onto the rest of his life, onto all his relationships, no matter how illogical the projection is…‖ ―And Bob‘s your mother‘s you-know-what? He‘d been painting radiators in the guest rooms of Adventures Unlimited since his arrival that morning, and the fumes were causing his head to pound. Not because of what he‘d intended to say about Madlyn but because as he‘d been speaking, his gaze had moved from Kerra to the beach below them and across that beach a surfer was jogging, his board under his arm and its leash trailing behind him in the sand. You couldn‘t, in fact, actually tell if the surfer was male or female from this distance. ―But killing off her ex-boyfriend wouldn‘t be part of her repertoire, okay? Or it‘ll fit you.‖ Under other circumstances, Lynley might have told her that she was being more than generous. But he reckoned her final query was rhetorical, and he was happy enough that he didn‘t have to reply. Pooh preferred English apples—Cox, if he could get them—but in a pinch and in the off-season, he enjoyed an imported Fuji, which he was doing now. Like Cadan‘s and like their father‘s, it was dark and curly. He headed for the stairway—forgoing the groaning old lift that, frankly, gave him the willies—and shared with Pooh what was coming next. No swearing in front of the ladies.‖―Which ladies are you talking about? She was coming towards him soundlessly on the new carpet runner. His mouth lowered to hers, his hands moved from his waist to her bum, and he drew her tightly against him. Chapter Fourteen THE IDENTIFICATION OF SANTO‘S BODY WAS MERELY PART OF police routine. People like you, she persisted nonetheless, think it‘s about shame because that‘s what you would feel in the same circumstances. —from the Chapter One HE FOUND THE BODY ON THE FORTY-THIRD DAY OF HIS WALK. One does,‖ but none of them mentioning her name or the word itself, that terrible, eternal, definitive word. Nor did he mention anything other than his need to walk. He felt unable or at least unwilling, which resulted in a sense of uselessness. Chapter Seven THE RAIN STOPPED IN CASVELYN NOT LONG AFTER MIDDAY, and for this Cadan Angarrack was grateful. I give you that.‖ ―That and then some,‖ Kerra remarked. She said to him, ―I expect this isn‘t your typical heap,‖ in reference to the Ford, ―but at least you‘ll fit it. ―I mean, did they ever have anything between them besides sex and dating, call a promising relationship, would you? ‖ Cadan was the last person capable of answering these questions, and he wondered if Madlyn herself ought to be holding forth on what comprised a promising relationship. He was waiting for the parrot to finish a breakfast of sunflower seeds and apples. Then he set about investigating the feathers under his left wing, looking like an avian miner with all the digging he was doing there. In the past, she‘d never given much attention to her hair, but she hadn‘t needed to. But he didn‘t like where his thoughts headed when he bunched those three individuals together in his mind because when he did that, the fourth thought that popped up like an unwanted uncle at Christmas lunch was the thought of murder. First, he needed to move his painting supplies to the next room up for radiator refreshment, something he accomplished quickly. Santo Kerne‘s mother had appeared from out of nowhere, like a spirit materialising directly through the wainscoting. He spied one sitting on the counter, and he went to fetch it. When she lifted her face to his, the rest was natural. Had he been capable of noticing his surroundings, the condition of the flora along the coast might have given him a broad hint as to the time of year. He‘d awakened where he‘d fallen on the previous night, with absolutely no knowledge where he was aside from somewhere along the South-West Coast Path. At this time of year, the only action he usually saw was from a surfer anxious to blast into the water of Widemouth Bay: Too much speed into the car park, too late to brake, and over the edge onto the sand he‘d go. He felt it himself when the waves were good and the only thing keeping him from his wet suit and his board were the uniform he wore and the thought of being able to wear it—right here in Casvelyn—into his dotage. They did not refer to a posting in Casvelyn as the velvet coffin for nothing. I don‘t know where it is or something you know as well as I do.‖Lynley shook his head, but it seemed to Bea Hannaford that this movement wasn‘t one of refusal so much as one that acknowledged a regretful understanding and acceptance of a single immutable fact: She had him by the short and curlies. So I‘m wondering if the sling was cut or if they‘ve dug up something else at forensics.‖ Bea thought about whether to answer the question and what it would signal to him if she did so. ‖ ―Suicide played out to look like an accident to spare the family additional pain.‖ ―What do we know so far that could possibly lead you there? I don‘t think so and neither do you.‖ Bea shoved her car key into the ignition and thought about what these remarks suggested, not so much about the victim but about Thomas Lynley himself. He couldn‘t sort out why they had him painting radiators anyway. Who noticed whether radiators were painted when they were in a hotel? And anyway, it wasn‘t like the decrepit Promontory King George Hotel was being taken back to its former glory, was it? That‘s what the cop told us.‖ Cadan widened his eyes. He was fully garbed, as he would be at this time of year, for the water was still quite cold. Jesus, Kerra, she kept thinking he was just going through a she thought that. People do all sorts of mad things when they‘re in love with someone.‖ ―Yeah? Indeed, his breeding generally made that sort of remark second nature to him. What she had to show him was in Casvelyn, and he obediently trailed her there. Kept short enough, it was low maintenance: A good shaking sorted it out in the morning. She wore black once again but now it was relieved at her throat by a billowy red scarf that exactly matched the red of her shoes. ―You didn‘t ask him not to swear in front of me.‖ She had a throaty voice, like a blues singer. While Ben Kerne knew this, he still experienced a moment of ludicrous hope that a terrible mistake had somehow occurred, that despite the car later found by the police and the identification within the car, the dead boy at the bottom of the cliff in Polcare Cove was someone other than Alexander Kerne. He‘d started out when the only sign of life renewed was the promise of yellow buds on the gorse that grew sporadically along the cliff tops, but by April, the gorse was wild with color, and yellow archangel climbed in tight whorls along upright stems in hedgerows on the rare occasions when he wandered into a village. He‘d climbed out of his sleeping bag, donned his jacket and his boots, drunk the rest of his water, and begun to move. With siren and lights, it still took him nearly twenty minutes to reach Polcare Cottage, which was the only habitation along the road down to the cove. And I owe her money for the clothing.‖ ―Don‘t be obtuse. If he did a runner, she‘d fetch him back and he knew it. She knew little enough about the man, but she also knew when a leap of faith was needed simply for what a leap of faith meant. ‖ ―Microscopic examination helped push the decision—if you will—over the edge.‖ ―So not terribly obvious, at least to the naked eye. She gave him a wary look and wondered if she‘d been wrong in her assessment of him. No one except perhaps a hotel inspector and what did it amount to if a hotel inspector noticed a bit of rust in the ironwork? It was merely being made habitable for the hordes interested in a holiday package on the sea that consisted of fun, frolic, food, and some kind of instruction in an outdoor activity. She gave a weird little cough and he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. But it doesn‘t mean she‘d finally get to the point of understanding how things really were and deciding the only reasonable thing to do was to kill him. But under the present circumstances, he merely told her that his usual mode of transportation had been totaled in February and he hadn‘t yet replaced it with something else, so the Ford was fine. He drove trying to keep his mind on that—simply on the driving—but he found the strength draining out of him with the sheer effort he made to hold his thoughts in check. One did not watch a beloved wife die—the victim of an utterly senseless street killing—and walk away from that to think that tomorrow was simply another day. So far he‘d endured the endless succession of tomorrows he‘d been living through by doing what was set in front of him and nothing more. But she‘d grown it because Santo Kerne had liked it longer. Oh, I expect there may be a few more weeks of tearful phone calls, but he‘ll do his pained-silence thing, and after a time, she‘ll get sick of that and realise she‘s thrown away three years of her life, or however long it‘s been because I can‘t remember and as the clock is ticking, she‘ll move on. Those shoes reminded Cadan, ridiculously, of a description he‘d heard once of the story of two old birds fighting over a pair of red shoes. All fancy of this died, however, when he gazed at Santo‘s face. He‘d taken the decision that there was no point to exposing Dellen to Santo‘s autopsied body, especially when he himself had no idea what condition the corpse would be in. That Dellen might have to anything that had reduced him to death was unthinkable.

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