Free The Secret (Dr Steven Dunbar 10) by Ken McClure Page B

the morning, Aline was returning to Pakistan . . . actually she wasn’t. At least not right away.’ Steven had remembered that she was going to speak to her bosses at Médecins Sans Frontières .
    ‘What about?’ asked Tally.
    ‘She wasn’t sure if Simone had a chance to speak formally to anyone from Med Sans before her death. Apparently Simone and her team had come across a remote village with lots of sick people in it and kids who hadn’t had their second dose of polio vaccine when they should have. When Simone contacted the agency officially covering that area, she was told to push off and mind her own business.’
    Tally frowned in puzzlement.
    ‘I gather it was a demarcation thing,’ said Steven. ‘The village wasn’t in her designated area.’
    ‘Sounds like they have NHS managers in Pakistan. Mind you, they would have noticed an unticked box in the vaccination schedules . . . For what it’s worth, Steven, that doesn’t sound like such a big deal to me. I mean oversights are bound to happen in that sort of environment. We’re talking Rudyard Kipling country here. The Khyber Pass and all that.’
    Steven nodded. ‘You don’t have to convince me of that , but Aline told me that Simone felt embarrassed that polio was still endemic there. She took it personally so I guess she’d be hypersensitive about any shortcomings she came across. She always gave a hundred per cent and expected others to do the same.’
    ‘Even so . . .’
    ‘There may have been something else,’ said Steven.
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Aline was going to tell me that at dinner.’
    Tally raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘And now you’re going to be hell-bent on finding out what it was?’
    ‘I would like to know.’
    ‘Well,’ said Tally. ‘It would appear that, yet again, I am to b e denied the presence of my man because the fight for truth and justice must go on. You really must start wearing your underpants on the outside, Steven.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Steven, knowing how weak it sounded. He took Tally in his arms. ‘I love you, Dr Simmons. I love you very much.’
    ‘And I you,’ murmured Tally. ‘Take care. Come back to me.’

     
    EIGHT
    Steven sensed that the French police were enjoying his discomfort. He was being interviewed by three officers in a bare room that smelt vaguely of sweat and tobacco.
    ‘You come with impeccable references,’ said the senior detective who had introduced himself as Philippe Le Grice, in charge of the inquiry into the death of Aline Lagarde. ‘The British Home Office apparently thinks highly of you.’
    Steven acknowledged with a slightly awkward nod.
    ‘Such pleas on your behalf, of course, mean little when affairs of the heart are concerned where desire can turn to anger in the blink of an eye and with disastrous consequences for all concerned.’
    ‘There was no affai r of the heart,’ Steven said coldly. ‘I’d never met the lady before. We were both attending the funeral of our friend.’
    ‘Ah, yes, Dr Ricard . . . a fatal fall, an unfortunate accident I understand. So here you were in Paris, the city of love . . . on your own . . . staying overnight . . . and you meet Dr Lagarde . . . an extremely attractive woman by all accounts . . .’
    ‘It was nothing like that,’ Steven insisted. ‘We talked at the funeral and arranged to have a meal together later before I returned to London and she travelled back to Afghanistan. That’s all there was to it, and then Aline didn’t turn up.’
    ‘Where did you intend having this meal together?’
    ‘The Monsonnier.’
    Le Grice looked to his right where a younger man nodded. ‘So she didn’t turn up; your evening was ruined; you went to her hotel to demand an explanation . . .’
    ‘You were angry,’ interjected the man who had verified the Monsonnier booking.
    ‘No, I wasn’t.’
    ‘But you did go to her hotel . . .’
    ‘Well, yes, but only to see if she was all right.’
    ‘And was she?’
    ‘I don’t know. I