Chapter Two
" Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Jean Innocent saw the man she had been addressing fight back a smirk.
" I should think that a woman as pretty as you are would be accustomed to men's stares."
Innocent turned her head to look the man in the eye. " I fail to see why that's any of your concern." She tried to keep her face stony, although a reluctant smile kept threatening to overtake her face. It had been a long time since anyone had called her "pretty."
He moved over to the stool next to hers." Don't bother trying to conceal it; I can tell that you're flattered."
Jean opened her mouth in protest, and the man laughed. " Oh, please. I can read you like a book."
" So you're claiming to read minds now?" she scoffed disbelievingly.
" No, just faces."
" Well, I'd appreciate it if you stopped trying to read mine."
He laughed again. " I didn't need to try, luv. You made it way too easy."
She crossed her arms across her chest. " Is that supposed to impress me?"
He stroked his unshaven chin thoughtfully. "I can't say for sure whether it's supposed to impress you, but I can say for sure that it does."
" How would you know?"
His eyes twinkled." Ah, I'm afraid that I can't tell you that, luv unless…"
" Unless what?"
" Unless you're willing to answer a few of my own questions first."
" Such as …"
He took a long swig of his beer before responding." What's your name?"
" Laura, Laura Hobson." Innocent replied, choosing the first name that came to mind. Something about this man made her very nervous.
" Care to tell me your real name?"
" That is my real name."
" You're not fooling me, luv, though your effort is charming."
Innocent sipped her drink, mindful that the man was still watching her and waiting eagerly for her response.
"It's Jean," she said finally.
The strange man winked playfully." See that wasn't so hard—was it Jean? Now, is there a last name that goes along with this?"
" There is."
" Are you going to tell me what it is?"
The chief superintendent shook her head." No, I don't think so."
" Well, then you force me to ask another question. What are you doing here?"
Innocent, meanwhile, had a few questions of her own. One: who was this man, and why was he so bloody nosy? Two: Could he really "read" her face or had his previous "analyses" been lucky guesses? And three: wasn't there anyone else he could harass?
" Here as in this pub or here as in Oxford?"
" Both."
" Well, I live and work in Oxford, and I'm in this pub, because I'm supposed to meet a friend," she responded, hoping that the friend in question would turn up soon. She was starting to understand how it felt to be on the opposite end of an interrogation room table.
" This friend wouldn't happen to be the Laura Hobson you mentioned earlier—now would it?"
" No, it would not."
" You're lying, though I can't imagine why," he said amusedly.
" Maybe, because I'm not in the habit of sharing my life story with complete strangers?" she snapped.
" I'm hardly asking for your life story, luv. I just want to know a bit more about you."
She gave a harsh laugh. "That's a bit rich considering you've yet to tell me a thing about yourself."
" On the contrary, you already know three things," he said, a smug smile firmly planted on his face.
" Oh, I do—do I?"
" One, I can read faces. Two, I think you're pretty. And three, I'd like to get to know you better." His eyes bored into hers in a way that suggested that he was mentally baring both her mind and her body.
To her chagrin, she found herself blushing and broke his gaze." You still know more about me than I do about you."
"Fair enough. Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere more private—say my hotel room? I'll answer any questions you may have, and I'll even teach you a thing or two about reading faces."
" Why on earth would I want to do something like that?" She glanced up and saw that he was giving her another of those penetrating stares.
" Because you're curious, Jean; I can see it on your face. I'm an enigma to you, a mystery that you're just dying to solve, and I want to help you solve it," he said, reaching out and inching a hand slowly up her thigh.
She shoved his hand off and rose to her feet angrily." I'm not curious enough to want to crawl into bed with a man whose name I don't know!"
" Oh, is that what troubling you, luv? Well, it's Lightman. Cal Lightman. Perhaps you've read my name in the papers; I recently gave your local police force a run for their money. It wasn't hard either." He gave a disgusted sigh. " Coppers. American, British, Canadian, they're all the same. So stupid that they can't see what's right in front of their eyes, and so arrogant that they don't even realize they can't see it."
That was the last straw for Innocent. She picked up her glass from the bar and proceeded to pour the remainder of her drink over Lightman's head. Then, she placed her now-empty glass back on the bar, left enough money to pay for her drink, and walked over to the door. As she prepared to exit the pub, she heard Lightman's voice again.
" If you change your mind, Jean, I'll be staying at The Hampton until next Tuesday. Room 7."
She turned to face him. " I wouldn't wait up for me, if I were you. I suggest that you find some other woman instead. You know, one who actually wants to be a notch on some narcissistic bastard's bedpost!" Then, she walked through the door.
She was still fuming when she reached her car. It looked as though her pre-conceived notion of Cal Lightman had been appropriate; she had been perfectly right to hate him even before meeting him.
She thought with disgust of the way he'd assumed that she'd willingly sleep with him, simply because he thought she found him interesting. And that was the worst of it—in spite of it all—she had found him interesting. She didn't know how he'd guessed it, but he had been right; she was curious about who he was and what he did. Her anger intensified when she remembered that he'd also insulted the Oxfordshire police officers—her police officers.
Lightman was the stupid and arrogant one: stupid for trying it on with her and arrogant for thinking he had a chance of success. She was very strongly tempted to walk right back into the pub and tell him this, but she knew this was a bad idea. The last thing she needed was for him to think that he'd gotten to her; he simply wasn't worth her any more of her time and attention.
She tried to focus on something else but found herself unable to think of anything other than her indignation. Fortunately, her mobile rang a moment later, and she answered it.
" Hi, Jean. It's Laura."
" Where are you?" Jean tried to keep her voice calm, but her bad mood still came across.
Hobson clearly thought that Innocent's anger was directed towards her and was appropriately apologetic." I'm sorry; I'm afraid I lost track of time. You see, Robbie called, and we got to talking for awhile."
Innocent sighed. Although she'd never admit it to anyone, the chief superintendent was a little bit jealous of the pathologist. She wished Mr. Innocent showed her the same amount of attention that Lewis showed Hobson. " I understand," she said finally.
" Thanks. Anyway, I'm on my way right now; I'm sorry that I kept you waiting."
" Alright, but can we go somewhere else instead? I've had enough of The Grapevine for one night."
" Ooo, that sounds intriguing. Am I to take it that I missed something?"
" You did," Innocent said evenly, not wanting to reveal too much. She was half-afraid that Lightman would come out of the pub and hear her talking about him.
" Well, I'd love to hear all about over a drink at The Trout, if that's agreeable to you."
" Okay then, I'll meet you there."
Later that night…
" Torres, it's me. Please open the door."
Ria Torres bristled slightly upon hearing the familiar British accent. What on earth could her boss possibly need to talk about that couldn't wait until morning?
She'd remembered that he'd gone out last night. Lightman had claimed that he wanted a drink, but Ria had known better. She'd caught a whiff of cologne when he'd passed by her and could have sworn that she'd seen him slip a condom in his pocket. She only hoped that Lightman would find some place other than his hotel room to sow his wild oats; the last few days had exhausted Torres, and she didn't want to be kept up by awkward noises coming from the room next door.
Of course, there was a very good chance that Lightman would be unsuccessful in his seduction attempt. Even if she and Lightman had been close to the same age, Torres knew that she herself would never have been romantically interested in him. He was temperamental, rude, cocky, and unbelievably stubborn. What was more, he wasn't very physically attractive; his features were rather plain and his stature rather small. Yet, as Ria had observed, a surprising number of women were nonetheless attracted to Lightman, perhaps due to the strong aura of mystery and intelligence that he manifested.
Ria suspected that she knew the motivation behind her boss's sudden desire to get laid while in Oxford; Cal Lightman was desperate to keep his mind off Gillian Foster through any method imaginable. Torres had already witnessed the way that Lightman had thrown himself into the Myles Harrison case less than a day after they'd arrived in Oxford. He'd dedicated all of his—and by default, Ria's—time and energy into finding a dangerous arsonist, and now that the case was closed, he was forced to find other ways to forget his beautiful and married coworker.
Although she had been curious to know whether Lightman had managed to get a woman up to his hotel room, Ria hadn't disturbed him. She'd decided to grant Lightman his privacy, and she'd assumed that he'd show her the same respect. Based upon the fact that Lightman was now banging loudly on her door, this had been a foolish assumption to make.
Torres crawled out of her bed and went to answer the door. Lightman walked into the room and sat down on bed. As he passed her, Ria became aware of the strong scent of brandy mingled with the scent of Lightman's cologne. She instantly grew concerned; she hoped Lightman wasn't drunk and lonely enough to attempt something he'd regret in the morning.
" So, why exactly are you waking me up at one a.m.?" she said in between massive yawns.
" Well, I… I had a question, and I was hoping you'd help me answer it."
" Well, I think that depends on what the question is," she said carefully.
" Am I a narcissistic bastard?"
" Excuse me," she glanced at him questioningly, unsure that she had heard him properly.
" That's the question. Am I a narcissistic bastard?" The somber tone of his voice so disturbed Torres that she carefully sat beside him on the bed.
Aware that Lightman would be able to catch her in even a small lie, Ria resolved to be totally honest in her answer." Bastard is a strong word," she said finally. " You're definitely full of yourself, and you can also be a real jerk sometimes. But I wouldn't go so far as to call you a 'narcissistic bastard.'"
He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. " Thank you, luv; that's just what I needed to hear," he replied and then got up to leave. Her voice stopped him.
" Wait! Aren't you going to explain what that was about?"
Lightman shrugged and sat back down." I suppose. I went to The Grapevine, one of my old student haunts, and while I was there, I met this woman. We got to talking, and I suggested that the two of us…"
" Make wild love till three in the morning?"
" My God, Torres, do have you have to be so uncouth?"
" But I'm right—aren't I?"
" Yeah, technically you're right," Lightman admitted grudgingly, "but I wasn't so blunt about it. Anyway, this …this Jean didn't think much of my idea, and so she poured her drink onto my head."
" I was wondering why you seemed so sober even though you smell like a brandy decanter. I take it this woman was also the one who called you a 'narcissistic bastard.'"
He nodded. " Yeah, she…she was." He glanced off into space for a moment. "Well thanks for listening, Ria," he said, getting up and moving to the door. She followed him.
" Anytime."
He gave a slight smile. "G'night luv."
" G'night."
