A Pitying of Doves by Steve Burrows Page A

Lindy’s exasperated expression and raised his binoculars to watch the Kittiwake carving the air with its graceful, effortless glide. Once, he would have automatically announced what the bird was, but he had stopped doing that lately. Perhaps he was waiting for Lindy to ask, or perhaps he had simply come to terms with the fact that it really didn’t matter to her.
    Lindy began walking slowly along the path again, head down, as if measuring her progress. Domenic fell in beside her.
    â€œMelissa says there are some pretty good deals to St. Lucia coming up,” she said with studied nonchalance. “They have endemics there, birds not found anywhere else.”
    â€œThat’s my definition of endemics, too,” said Jejeune guardedly. The demands of their respective careers meant that holidays required some advance planning, and Lindy had made no secret of the fact that she had already started the process. Apart from being cockney Robin’s better half, Melissa was also, by the strangest of coincidences, a travel agent.
    â€œI know that friend of yours from college is down there. The one with the strange name. I thought it might be nice for you to see him again.” Lindy tried one of her smiles on him, but Jejeune’s initial caginess had been replaced now by something else she couldn’t quite identify. For a man who supposedly wasn’t exactly in love with his job, it could be remarkably difficult sometimes to get him to consider taking a break from it. But this time, there seemed to be even more resistance than usual. All she knew was the destination had suddenly become a little more distant.
    â€œC’mon Dom, it would be nice to go somewhere warm.”
    â€œIt’s warming up here,” said Jejeune.
    â€œIt’s spring in north Norfolk, which means it’s slightly less cold and grey than winter in north Norfolk. I’m talking about proper sunshine. Caribbean sunshine.”
    Jejeune shook his head slightly. “There’s a lot going on right now. Maybe we could talk about this later?”
    It sounded like a reasonable enough request, unless you knew Domenic Jejeune. Then you realized this was about as close as his Canadian politeness ever came to letting him slam the door on an idea completely. Lindy drew the cardigan around her and turned to stare out to sea, letting the breeze tousle her hair.
    â€œWell, just promise me you’ll think about it, when you’ve finished with this case.” She turned to him. “Do you really think it’s about somebody wanting to steal a few doves?”
    A while ago, she might have phrased it differently; told him how preposterous the idea was, how ridiculous. But Domenic had posited other unlikely birding connections in another case, and they had proven to be eerily accurate. That knowledge stopped her now from being too quick to disregard what seemed, on the face of it, a ludicrous theory. She suspected it would stop a lot of other people, too.
    â€œIt’s called a pitying,” said Jejeune. “A pitying of doves. And yes, I think it’s related.”
    â€œBut you don’t think it was this woman, Maggie Wylde?”
    Jejeune shook his head slowly. “No.”
    Lindy sighed. This was how things were now. Dom would tell her just enough so that they could chat about the case, bounce around a few ideas, but she wasn’t going to be privy to all the details. It had been different once, when they first met, and she was reporting on his investigation into what had come to be known as the HomeSec’s Daughter Case . But once he had gotten — they both had gotten — their big breaks, things had changed. He had been promoted, she had taken another job, and they had hashed out a new set of rules of engagement over laughter and spaghetti and a couple of bottles of Chianti on the back porch. And chief among those new rules was that she wouldn’t ask anymore, and he wouldn’t