Elizabeth George - Just One Evil Act

To Susan Berner

wonderful friend,

outstanding role model,

and

twenty-five years

superlative reader

EARLS COURT

LONDON

Sitting on a plastic chair inside Brompton Hall among a crowd of two hundred shouting individualsall dressed in what had to be called alternative garbwas the last thing Thomas Lynley had ever expected to find himself doing. Edgy music was blasting from speakers the size of a tower block on Miami Beach. A food stall was doing a very brisk business in hot dogs, popcorn, lager, and soft drinks. A female announcer was periodically shrieking above the din to call out scores and name penalties. And ten helmeted women on roller skates were racing round a flat ring delineated with tape on the concrete floor.

It was supposed to be an exhibition match only: something to educate the populace in the finer points of womens flat track roller derby. But it was a case of tell-that-to-the-players, for the women engaged in the bout were deadly serious.

They had intriguing names. All of them were printed, along with suitably menacing photos, in the programmes that had been distributed as spectators took their seats. Lynley had chuckled as hed read each nom de guerre. Vigour Mortis. The Grim Rita. Grievous Bodily Charm.

He was there because of one of the women, Kickarse Electra. She skated not with the local teamLondons the Electric Magicbut rather with the team from Bristol, a savage-looking group of females who went by the alliterative collective Boadiceas Broads. Her actual name was Daidre Trahair, she was a large animal veterinarian employed at Bristols zoo, and she had no idea that Lynley was among the howling mass of spectators. He wasnt sure if he was going to keep matters that way. He was, at this point, operating strictly by feel.

He had a companion with him, having lacked the courage to venture into this unknown world on his own. Charlie Denton had accepted his invitation to be enlightened, educated, and entertained at Earls Court Exhibition Centre, and at this moment, he was milling among the crowd at the snack stall.

Hed made the declaration of Its on me, mlord . . . sir, with that final word a hasty correction that one would think by now hed not even have to make. For hed been seven years in Lynleys employ, and when he wasnt addressing his passion for the stage through auditions for various theatrical events in Greater London, he served as manservant, cook, housekeeper, aide-de-camp, and general factotum in Lynleys life. Hed so far managed Fortinbras in a north London production, but the West End north London was not. So he soldiered on in his double life, determinedly believing that his Big Break was only round the next corner.

Now, he was amused. Lynley could see that in Dentons face as he made his way back across Brompton Hall to the array of chairs among which Lynley sat. He carried a cardboard food tray with him.

Nachos, Denton said as Lynley frowned down at something that looked like orange lava erupting from a mountain of fried tortilla. Your dogs got mustard, onions, and relish. The ketchup looked iffy so I gave it a pass, but the lagers nice. Have at it, sir.

Denton said all this with a twinkle in his eye, although Lynley reckoned it could have been just the light shining on the lenses of his round-framed spectacles. He was daring Lynley to refuse the offered repast and instead come forth as he really was. He was also entertained by the sight of his employer sitting chummily next to a bloke whose potbelly overhung his baggy jeans and whose dreadlocks fell the length of his back. Lynley and Denton had come to depend upon this individual. His name was Steve-o, and what he didnt know about womens flat track roller derby did not, apparently, bear knowing at all.

He was attached to Flaming Aggro, hed told them happily. Plus, his sister Soob was a member of the cheering squad. This latter group of individuals had taken up a position whose disturbing proximity to Lynley added to the general cacophony surrounding him. They wore black from head to toe with embellishments of hot pink in the form of tutus, hair decorations, knee socks, shoes, or waistcoats, and they had so far spent most of their time screaming Break em, baby! and shaking pink and silver pompoms.

Great sport, innit? Steve-o kept saying as the Electric Magic piled the points onto the scoreboard. Its tha Deadly Deedee-light does most of the scoring. Long s she dont rack up the penalties, were in, mate. And then onto his feet he leapt, shouting, Do it, Aggro! as his girlfriend swept by in the midst of the pack.

Lynley was loath to tell Steve-o that he was a supporter of Boadiceas Broads. It was a matter of chance that he and Denton had placed themselves among the Electric Magic fans. The Boadiceas Broads crowd was on the other side of the taped-off ring, being led into a frenzy of synchronised shouting by their own squad of cheerleaders who, like those supporting the Electric Magic, were dressed in black but with touches of red. They appeared to have more experience in the arena of cheerleading. They executed vague dance moves with accompanying leg kicks that were most impressive.

It was the sort of event that should have appalled Lynley. Had his father been theredoubtless dressed to the nines with one or two touches of ermine and red velvet lest someone doubt his position in societyhe would have lasted less than five minutes. The sight of the women on roller skates might have given him a coronary, and listening to Steve-o drop his ts and ignore his hs would have made the poor mans blood run cold. But Lynleys father was long in his grave, and Lynley himself had spent most of the evening grinning so much that his cheeks were actually beginning to hurt.

Hed learned far more than hed ever have imagined possible upon having made the decision to accept the invitation that had been printed on a handbill hed found among his post a few days earlier. Hed discovered they were meant to keep their eyes on the jammer, identified by the star cap that stretched across her helmet. This wasnt a permanent position for a skater, as the star cap was passed round among the women. But the jammer was the teams scoring position, and the ultimate scoring came during a power jam when the opposing teams jammer had to sit in the penalty box. Hed learned the purpose of the pack and, thanks to Steve-o, what it meant when the lead jammer rose from her crouched position to place her hands on her hips. He was still rather vague on the purpose of the pivotalthough he knew who she was by the striped cap she wore stretched over her helmetbut he was definitely getting the idea that roller derby was a sport of strategy as well as skill.

Mostly, hed kept his eyes on Kickarse Electra throughout the match-up between London and Bristol. She, he discovered, was quite a jammer. She skated aggressively, like a woman to the roller skates born. Lynley wouldnt have thought it possible of the quiet, thoughtful veterinarian hed met seven months earlier on the coast of Cornwall. He knew she was practically unbeatable at darts. But this . . . ? He never would have guessed it.

His pleasure in the wild sport had been interrupted only once, in the middle of a power jam. Hed felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket, and hed dug it out to see who was ringing him. His first thought was that the Met was calling him back to work. For the caller was his usual partner, Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers. Still, she was ringing from her home phone and not from her mobile so perhaps, he thought, he was in luck and nothing had occurred that wanted his attention.