and picked up his wine. “My God,” he said, watching the children. “She is lovely, isn’t she?” There was a hint of apology in his tone. “You were right, you know,” he added softly. “I’d hate to see her go to someone who didn’t care for her properly.”
“I went to see Roy Blakely today,” said Gemma, seeing her opening.
“Blakely?”
“Sandra’s friend on Columbia Road. The one she left Charlotte with that day.” She glanced at him. “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t.”
“Cheeky.” He gave her knee a gentle pinch. “So what did you find out?”
“Gail Gilles was a lousy mother.”
“And you’re surprised?”
Gemma shrugged. “Roy Blakely has known her since they were children. He wouldn’t be very comfortable testifying against her in family court, but he’s not happy with the idea of her taking Charlotte, either.”
“Did he give you anything specific about the brothers?”
“No,” Gemma said, not disguising her disappointment. “But he told me that Sandra hadn’t been getting on with her former dealer”-seeing Duncan’s startled glance, she clarified-“art dealer, I mean. And so I, um, went to see her, too.”
“Unofficially?” Kincaid asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gemma sipped her wine. “Unofficially.”
“And?”
“Her name is Pippa Nightingale, and she’s…interesting. She seemed genuinely distressed by Naz’s death, because she seems to think it means Sandra really isn’t coming back. Guilty conscience over her falling-out with Sandra, it sounds like, although she still couldn’t help sounding bitter over their disagreement. She felt Sandra didn’t take her art seriously enough-more or less accused her of being an interior designer rather than an artist. And she heard the news about Naz from Lucas Ritchie. It seems they were all three mates from art college days, although I think Pippa is a bit older.”
“Ah, Lucas Ritchie,” Duncan said meditatively. “Interesting bloke.”
Gemma turned towards him. “What? You met him? What’s he like?”
“Very polished. Very credible. Sandra’s art prominently displayed in his very posh club that seems, on the surface, to be aboveboard. And he seems, at least on first pass, to have an alibi for the day of Naz’s death. As does Ahmed Azad, by the way.”
“Azad could have hired goons,” Gemma suggested.
“So could Ritchie, I think. But I haven’t come up with a really good reason why either of them would have done so. Lucas Ritchie says he and Sandra were longtime friends, and even if they had been having an affair, I can’t see why he would have harmed her. It still looks like Sandra’s brothers are topping the charts.”
“You talked to them?” The children looked up from their play, and Gemma made an effort to lower her voice. “What did they say?”
Duncan swirled the dregs of his wine. “Ah, well. That’s problematical. I
“Major drug smuggling from Europe, a couple of homicides involved. And while the Gilles brothers may be very small fry, things are at a critical enough stage that they don’t want anything to rock the boat.”
“So they are into drugs.” Gemma didn’t know whether to feel vindicated or horrified.
“Minor players, but yes. And Narcotics think if we talk to them, it might put the wind up bigger fish. And that means I can’t talk to Gail Gilles either.”
The children had interrupted them, trailing back up to the patio and demanding drinks. Toby had taken Charlotte by the hand and was bossing her about quite insufferably, but as Charlotte seemed happy, Gemma didn’t correct him.
After fetching them chilled, bottled water from the kitchen fridge, she’d gone back inside to do the washing up. Duncan had offered, but she’d needed some time to think over the events of the day, and she’d wanted to give him the opportunity to be on his own with Charlotte and the boys.
What sense could it possibly make to a child, she wondered, to have mummy gone, then daddy, then to be taken from home and nanny and all things familiar to a strange house with a new family, then left again in a different house with a different family. Although Betty had, of course, told Charlotte she would be coming back for her, Gemma wasn’t sure Charlotte was old enough to understand that. Or whether she would believe it, given the capriciousness of the blows life had recently dealt her.
It was she, Gemma realized as she turned off the tap and began to dry the plates, who had been the only constant in Charlotte’s life since the afternoon of her father’s disappearance. The thought made her feel both frightened and possessive.
Voices drifted in through the open doors in the dining and sitting room; Duncan’s low chuckle, the high-pitched tones of the little ones, and Kit’s still unreliable shift between tenor and baritone, with an occasional canine yip as counterpoint.
But by the time she’d finished up in the kitchen, it had grown quiet, and when she entered the sitting room she saw that they had all migrated inside. A pool of lamplight fell on Kit, who was draped sideways over the armchair, cocooned with his iPod and earbuds.
Toby sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet from the television, the sound off, watching mesmerized as Cathy Rigby swooped and swaggered across the screen. The dogs were stretched out, panting, beside him, and Sid had taken up a safe vantage point on the bookcase.
And Duncan…Duncan sat on the sofa with Charlotte cradled in his arms. She was fast asleep, her curly head tucked under his chin, and on his face was an expression of surprised and wondering tenderness.
When Betty had collected the still-sleeping Charlotte-and it seemed to Gemma that Duncan had lowered her into her car seat with some reluctance-and the boys were in bed, Gemma and Duncan lay side by side, the sheet thrown back to catch a breeze from the open window.
Drowsily, she shifted towards him until their thighs touched, wondering if the warm, humid air would stick their limbs together like glue. “So, what are you going to do about Gail Gilles and her sons?” she asked. He’d told her that the plainclothes officers he’d put on watch had seen Kevin and Terry Gilles moving some of their belongings from their mother’s council flat to their sister Donna’s flat nearby. “Have you let Janice Silverman know Kevin and Terry are under investigation?”
“I’m not to contact her. They don’t want any chance of a leak. But…” He trailed his fingers over her thigh, raising goose bumps. “I thought-since you’ve already established that you’re interested in Charlotte’s welfare-I thought you might have a word with Gail Gilles after all. To express your condolences, and your concern for Charlotte.”
“Unofficially?” Gemma shivered and moved closer. Although she certainly wanted to meet Gail Gilles, she wasn’t sure who was taking advantage of whom in this little arrangement.
He touched a finger to her lips. “You never heard it from me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
– Geoff Dench, Kate Gavron, Michael Young,
Gemma went into work on Wednesday morning knowing she was going to have to have a word with her boss, Mark Lamb. She couldn’t take any more time off work unless she discussed it with him. And as much as she hated using her mother’s health as an excuse, she couldn’t see another option. It wouldn’t be politic for her to say she was helping Kincaid with an investigation, and especially not when she was looking into something that he’d been
