Necessary as Blood

manage.”

“You’re a dear, Betty. I’ll let you speak to Mrs. Silverman, then.”

When Betty had given her information to Janice Silverman, and the caseworker was calling her own office to confirm them, Gemma went into the house to put together Charlotte’s things. She found Hazel in the kitchen, pouring orange squash into glasses that held a few meager ice cubes.

“This is all there is,” Hazel said. “Tim’s run out of anything decent to drink. Not to mention he’s forgotten to fill the ice trays. And I can’t,” she added, her voice rising, “bloody find anything.” She opened the fridge door, then slammed it shut again.

Gemma stared at her in surprise, but Hazel didn’t meet her eyes. “Even water would be fine,” Gemma said after a moment, treading carefully, not sure what had triggered the outburst. “It doesn’t matter, really. Hazel, I just need to get Charlotte’s things together. Do you-”

“No. I don’t know where Tim’s put her things. I’ve just said I don’t know where anything is.” Hazel pushed the most recently filled glass into the others on a tray, causing them all to slosh, then went into the sitting room, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Gemma heard her say more calmly, “Holly, can you put Charlotte’s things in her little bag? Is it in your room? Good girl. Just bring it down when you’re done, and don’t miss anything.”

Then Holly clattered up the stairs, and Hazel came back into the kitchen, muttering, “…herd of elephants.” Her eyes were red. “I’m sorry,” she said to Gemma. “I didn’t mean to snap, and at you, of all people. It’s just that-last night, I thought Tim was manufacturing a drama. I never thought-poor little Charlotte-her father’s really dead?”

“Yes. I saw the body.”

“Oh, God.” With the tea towel, Hazel swiped at the spilled drink on the work top. “Now I feel a complete bitch. Did he-was it suicide?”

“We don’t know. They don’t know,” Gemma corrected as she glimpsed Weller through the kitchen window, reminding herself that it wasn’t her case. “There were no obvious signs of foul play. We’ll have to wait for the postmortem.”

“Surely he wouldn’t have deliberately left that adorable child-” Hazel gestured towards the garden. “Will she be all right?”

“For the moment. I’ve fixed it so that she can stay with Betty Howard.” Gemma went to stand beside her friend. Lowering her voice, she said, “Mrs. Silverman told Charlotte her father was dead. I know, when we-the police-give a death notice, we get it over with as simply and quickly as we can, but for a child that young it seems awfully harsh-”

“No, Mrs. Silverman was right.” Hazel nodded in agreement. She had often worked with children in her therapy practice. “Allowing her to think her dad was coming home would be worse for her in the long run. She would have to be told eventually, and the deception would damage her ability to trust. Not that I would know anything about that.” Hazel folded the tea towel, then shook it out again, staring at it. It had a pattern of little red roosters on a beige background. “This is hideous,” she said. “Where did he find it?” She glanced at Gemma, then away. “And he’s painted the kitchen.”

“I noticed.” Gemma searched for the right thing to say. “It looks nice. But it’s…different.”

“Everything’s different,” said Hazel. “And I know it’s all trivial in comparison to what’s happened to Tim’s friend, but I didn’t think it would be so hard.”

“Dr. Cavendish, from what DI James has told me, you’ll be best placed to help us with inquiries into your friend’s death,” Weller was saying to Tim as Gemma came back out onto the patio.

She’d just given Charlotte a last hug, and a promise that she’d come to visit her later that afternoon. She didn’t know how much the little girl understood. She had clung to Gemma, and after a final fit of sobbing, she’d gone mute in Janice Silverman’s arms.

“I’ve already told Gemma everything I know.” Tim had emptied his glass of squash, apparently having no objection to its safety-glow orange color. Now he sipped at the melting ice cubes, then rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Naz loved Sandra and Charlotte. He’d never have done anything to hurt either of them. They were the perfect family.”

Hazel, having got Holly started playing in her sandbox on the far side of the garden, had come to stand at the edge of the patio. At Tim’s words, she winced.

“Perfect, except for the fact that Sandra Gilles disappeared,” said Weller.

Tim stared at him with dawning recognition. “You investigated the case. I remember Naz talking about you. You made him feel he’d done something wrong.”

“And had he done something wrong, Dr. Cavendish? You’d be the one he confided in, the one he felt safe with-”

“No.” Tim thrust his head forward. “Naz thought you’d not taken Sandra’s disappearance seriously, that you’d overlooked things. He said you’d never investigated her brothers thoroughly.”

“Sandra Gilles’s brothers had alibis for the day of her disappearance.”

“Given by their mates down the pub-”

“Naz Malik did not,” said Weller, ignoring the dig. “He said he was in his office, on a Sunday, but there was no corroboration.”

“You’re saying Naz had something to do with Sandra’s disappearance?” Tim was half out of his chair, his fists balled.

Weller raised a hand. “No, Dr. Cavendish. I’m merely saying that you can’t take anything for granted. Even from the mouths of friends. Now, you tell me if your mate Naz Malik really thought his wife was coming back.”

Tim sank back in his chair, his anger seeming to drain away. “No. Yes. Look at it from Naz’s viewpoint, will you? Either something terrible had happened to his wife and the mother of his child, whom he adored. Or everything he believed about his life was a lie, and his wife, his beloved wife, had voluntarily left him. How could he choose between those alternatives? So one day he believed one thing, the next, the other. But I think in his heart he thought something dreadful had happened to her…except…”

“Except what, Dr. Cavendish?” All Weller’s weariness seemed to vanish in an instant. Gemma found herself tempted to caution Tim, but she couldn’t-it was not her interview, she couldn’t interfere. And she wanted to know what he had been about to say as much as Weller.

“I-it was nothing. A rumor. I’d never repeat it if Naz were…here.”

“Go on. What sort of rumor?” asked Weller.

Tim, fidgeting, with obvious reluctance, glanced at Hazel, then back at Weller. “It isn’t anything-” He shook his head. “Some of the last commissions Sandra did were for a club in Spitalfields. A private club. The owner’s name is Lucas Ritchie. Naz heard-”

“Naz heard what, Dr. Cavendish?” prompted Weller.

“There was…talk…that Sandra was having an affair with Ritchie.”

CHAPTER NINE

From hence I only infer that an Englishman, of all men, ought not to despise foreigners as such, and I think the inference is just, since what they are to-day, we were yesterday, and to-morrow they will be like us.

– Daniel Defoe, The True-Born Englishman

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” demanded Weller.

“It didn’t occur to me-Naz only told me the last time we talked.” Tim glared back at Weller.

“And Mr. Malik didn’t think this was germane to our investigation of his wife’s disappearance?” DI Weller shot back. His large hands twitched, and Gemma felt sure his annoyance was not feigned.

“He only heard it a couple of weeks ago,” said Tim. “And he didn’t take it seriously. Sandra didn’t run off with Lucas Ritchie-Ritchie’s never left London. Naz went to see him.”

“Oh, he did, did he? And this Ritchie assured him he had nothing to do with his wife’s disappearance, and that