A Banquet of Consequences by Elizabeth George

the strain of thinking only about how not to get herself sent up north. Yes?”
    “Agreed, more or less,” Lynley said cautiously. He did wonder where all this was heading. “So tell me,” he went on. “What is it that she’s not thinking about that she actually ought to be thinking about?”
    Dorothea looked patently startled at the question. “Goodness, it’s what everyone else is always thinking about, Detective Inspector.”
    “I’m intrigued. Go on.”
    “Sex,” she said.
    “Sex.” He glanced round the stairwell to emphasise what he was about to say. “Dorothea, ought we to be having this conversation?”
    “Sexual harassment being all the rage, you mean? Detective Inspector Lynley, let’s please set political correctness aside for a moment and just get down to facts.” Dorothea indicated the stairwell with a manicured hand, by which she also indicated the Met. “Detective SergeantHavers needs to think like the rest of humanity. She’s always needed that. Which means she needs to think of something more than the Met, her job, and being transferred. Sex is just the ticket for that, and I suspect you know it as well as I do. Call it love, romance, making babies, finding a soul mate, settling down, or anything else you like, it all comes down to the same thing at the end of the day. A mate. The detective sergeant needs an outlet. She needs someone special so that her whole entire world is
not
this place.”
    Lynley eyed her. “You’re suggesting Barbara needs to find a man, aren’t you.”
    “I am. She needs a love life. We all need a love life. Have you ever known the detective sergeant to have one? You don’t even need to answer. No. She hasn’t had one, and that’s why she keeps falling afoul of—”
    “Dee, has it occurred to you that not every woman on the planet wants—or even needs—a man?”
    Dorothea took a step backwards, her smooth brow creased. “Heavens, Detective Inspector, are you suggesting the detective sergeant is an asexual being? No? Then what? Not that she’s . . . That’s completely ridiculous. I don’t believe it. Because she and that professor, her neighbour, the man with the lovely little daughter . . .” She paused, looking thoughtful. “On the other hand, there
is
her hair. And the strange lack of interest in makeup. And her absolutely appalling dress sense. But still . . .”
    “Have we gone down the rabbit hole?” Lynley asked. “Or is this merely an intriguing illustration of random thinking?”
    Dorothea looked flustered, which was entirely unlike her, but she gathered herself together heroically. “No matter. All that’s to be decided,” she said obscurely. “But we’ll use her professor friend as an example.”
    “Taymullah Azhar,” Lynley told her. “The daughter’s called Hadiyyah. They were Barbara’s neighbours. What are we using them as examples of?”
    “What she needs,” she declared. “What she might have had had they not left the country.”
    “Barbara and Azhar,” Lynley clarified, just to be sure he was on the right track. “What they might have had. Together.”
    “Indeed.”
    “Sex.”
    “Yes. Sex, a relationship, a love affair, a romance. Had things gone that way, she’d be a different woman, you mark my words. And
being
a different woman is what she needs. And the way to get her there . . . ? The entire process of getting her there . . . ? I can be of help.”
    Lynley felt his scepticism rise. “You know, of course, that Azhar and his daughter are in Pakistan now. As far as I know, they’re not coming back any time soon and Barbara certainly can’t go to them. So what exactly are you suggesting? Surely not sending Barbara on a blind date? Pray not that.”
    “Oh please. Detective Sergeant Havers is
not
about to step out on a blind date. No. This situation you and I are looking at? It must be gone at a bit more obliquely.” She straightened her shoulders and threw her head back. “Detective