He looked nonplussed. He said, “Acting only, Dee. And what am I to think of?”
Barbara fairly soared to her feet, saying, “This, sir. Dee’s made copies for everyone. Thanks, Dee. This is what we’re looking for. It’s called Standing Warrior.”
Although she started to hand over the stack of duplicated printouts to Lynley, Barbara found that Dorothea was undeterred. She said, “It’s a holiday camp for singles! I mean, it’s a family camp but every year they do a week for singles only. And it’s just the sort of camp we all went to in summers with our families.”
Barbara refrained from hooting in derision, but she did manage to say, “I’ll wager one hundred quid here and now that the inspector has never darkened the doorway of a holiday camp in his life. With his family or without.”
Lynley asked, “Holiday camp?” as he took his reading spectacles from his jacket pocket.
“You see?” Barbara said pointedly to the departmental secretary, “He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Dorothea’s enthusiasm was not to be forestalled. She said, “It’s like a resort, Detective Chief Super—”
“Guv will do for now, Dee,” Lynley interposed. He was gazing down at the photo of the sculpture Ross Carver had found.
“You’ve been to a resort, haven’t you? At some point in your life?”
Barbara said, “Does he really seem the type to mix it up with the proletariat?”
“The what?”
“The hoi polloi, the common man, the salt of the earth, the great unwashed, the greater unread, the whatever. His accent alone would get him murdered on the first night.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Dorothea declared. “It’s for everyone, Barbara. Think of it—”
“Must I?”
Nkata reentered the room, the DCs trailing behind him like ducklings. Lynley gave each of them a copy of the Carver printout. Barbara returned to her desk and plopped into her chair.
“They have swimming and yoga and dance,” Dorothea said. “They have badminton, tennis, croquet, crazy golf. There’s shuffleboard and even a climbing wall! At night, there’s entertainment, in the morning there’s exercise classes. And best of all, there’s a spa. And a pool. Well, of course, there must be a pool if they have swimming.”
“Dee, I hate to dash your dreams, but here it is. I plan to go straight to my death without ever having been to a singles-only holiday camp,” Barbara told her.
“Pooh! Ridiculous! This is just what we need. We can hire a caravan, or share a room at the lodge, or we can splurge and try to get one of the smaller chalets. Or—and this might be just the very thing—we can sign up to share a large chalet with others. Same sex or mixed.”
“And then what?” Barbara asked her. “Sit round in our jimjams having coffee in the morning?”
“Having once seen those jimjams,” Lynley noted, looking up from the paper Barbara had handed to him and peering over the tops of his specs, “I do advise using caution, Dee.”
Dee started to colour, so Barbara added quickly, “Please. The pyjama remark? It’s not what you think. Not that the guv and I don’t make the perfect couple. They were a gift from Winston and—”
“Detective Sergeant Nkata!”
“Deep waters here, Barbara,” Lynley noted.
“Whatever,” Dee said with a shrug. “But we must move quickly on this, Barbara. It’s going to book up or sell out or whatever they call it. It’s only today been announced. I was lucky to see the advert.”
Lynley said quite solemnly, “You’re owed the time off, Barbara,” and lowered his head with a smile when Barbara offered him her very best glare.
“As to the missing sculpture, sir . . . ,” she said with great meaning.
“Oh pooh. I can take a hint,” Dorothea announced.
Barbara murmured, “Which God be praised.”
“But you take these and have a look. And then you can tell me you’re not absolutely wild to go.” Dorothea extended her hand, which was grasping more printouts, these obviously of the family camps she’d been enthusing over.
There was nothing for it but to take them, which Barbara did. She said, “I’ll be on pins and needles till I have time to commit all of this to memory, Dee,” and the moment Dorothea had left them, Barbara tossed the lot directly into the wastepaper basket next to her desk.
“She’ll only print another set, Barb,” Nkata said.