Deborah Crombie - Necessary as Blood

“What if Naz thought Azad was involved in Sandra’s disappearance?”

“Sandra Gilles had no connection with Azad.”

“That you know of.” Kincaid locked eyes with Weller. “You didn’t know about Lucas Ritchie either.”

“We questioned everyone who had an immediate connection with Sandra Gilles. But we had no evidence that a crime had actually been committed. We had no reason to go through the woman’s client list.”

“If you didn’t think you had missed something, or that there was a connection between the wife’s disappearance and the husband’s murder, you wouldn’t have called us in.”

For a long moment, Weller stared back belligerently, then his shoulders relaxed and he drained his pint. “Point taken,” he said, carefully aligning his glass on the beer mat. “Rashid sent me the tox report. If he’s right-and he usually is, the smug bastard-it would be a very odd coincidence if Sandra Gilles disappeared and three months later someone just happened to kill her husband. But I’ll be damned if I know who to move to the top of the list.”

“How about we start with Azad,” Kincaid suggested.

Weller frowned. “Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, Mr. Ahmed Azad. I don’t think you’ll get very far.” He pushed his empty glass aside. “But I can introduce you to him, if you like. He lives right round the corner.”

Gemma wasn’t sure if her call to Janice Silverman had reassured her or made her more anxious about Charlotte.

“Oh, not to worry about the sister,” Silverman had said. “We ran a check on her. She’s had half a dozen reports filed against her-neglect, too many boyfriends coming and going, her three little boys showing up at school with the unexplained bruise.”

“She still has her kids?”

“For the time being, although they’ve had a couple of short-term stays in foster care.” She sighed. “We can’t put half of London permanently in foster care, so we do the best we can. Her caseworker is making regular visits.”

Gemma passed on what Alia had told them about Sandra’s and Donna’s brothers.

“I’ll send a note to Donna’s caseworker. Her boys may not have regular contact with their uncles, but the information should go in the file. Thanks. And thanks for recommending Mrs. Howard, by the way,” Silverman added. “A nice woman, and she seems to be doing a good job with Charlotte. Nice of you to visit, as well. The more interested parties, the better, in our business.”

Gemma had said she’d look in on Charlotte again as soon as she could, and hung up feeling a warm rush of pleasure at the idea that she might have made a positive difference.

That soon faded, however, as she chewed over scenarios involving Sandra Gilles’s brothers and drugs. If the brothers dealt in heroin, it made it more likely that they would have access to the Valium and ketamine that had been used to drug Naz.

But why would they have killed Naz? And how could they have got the drugs into him if he refused to have any contact with them?

She did her best to put the questions aside while spending an hour with her mother at the hospital. But when she could see Vi beginning to tire, she kissed her good-bye and drove to Islington.

When she pulled up, she found Tim sitting on the front steps of the house, drinking a mug of tea and watching Holly play in the front garden of the house next door. The treetops in the communal garden had begun to filter the late-afternoon sun, and Gemma sat down beside Tim gratefully, watching the slightest ripple of breeze through the foliage.

“Too hot to stay in the house,” Tim said. “Too hot to drink tea, really,” he added, inspecting his mug. It had been one of Hazel’s favorites, Gemma remembered, with a pattern of leaves and cherries on a cream background and lettering that spelled out TIME FOR TEA. It looked awkwardly feminine in Tim’s hand. “But it’s that time of day, and too early for beer,” he continued. “Would you like some?”

“Beer, or tea?” Gemma asked, teasing. She thought he looked exhausted. “No, thanks, really. I’ve just had a liter or two of industrial-strength brew at the hospital.”

“How’s your mum?”

“Better. They’re sending her home tomorrow. She’s rather proud of her chemo port-calling herself a bionic woman and showing it off to all and sundry.” She didn’t say that Vi had looked frighteningly frail. Settling more comfortably on the step, she watched the children. Holly’s playmate was a dark-skinned little boy, perhaps a year or two younger, and Holly was giving him intricate instructions that Gemma couldn’t quite hear. “She’s quite the little martinet, isn’t she?”

“Dictator in the making,” Tim agreed with a chuckle, then sobered. “She does have a soft spot beneath all the bossiness, though. Hearing that Charlotte’s dad died upset her, and she’s taking being separated from Hazel very hard.”

Gemma hated to let go of the few minutes of peaceful reprieve, but now that Tim had brought it up, there was no putting it off. “Tim. About Naz. We’ve had the toxicology report. They found very high levels of Valium and a veterinary tranquilizer called ketamine. He-”

“But that’s not possible.” Tim smacked the mug down with a scrape of porcelain against concrete that made Gemma wince. “I’ve told you-Naz wouldn’t touch-”

“They’re not saying he did.” Gemma touched Tim’s knee in reassurance. “The pathologist thinks someone else dosed him.”

“But how-”

“We don’t know. Tim, did Naz ever talk about Sandra’s brothers being involved with drugs?”

“Sandra’s brothers? Could they have done this?” At the sound of her father’s raised voice, Holly looked over from next door, her small face creased in a frown.

“Daddy?” she called, dropping the plastic spade she’d been using as a stick horse and coming towards them.

“It’s all right, love.” Tim took a deep breath and waved her away. “You play with Sami while I talk to Auntie Gemma for a bit longer.”

Holly went back to her playmate obediently, but cast worried glances their way. With the muting of the children’s voices, Gemma noticed how quiet it was in the street. A car swished by in the next road; somewhere a small dog yipped, but even those sounds seemed faded. No birds sang. The evening itself seemed drugged with heat haze, and it was hard to imagine the things that had happened to Naz Malik on an equally tranquil Saturday night.

“Do you think Naz would have gone somewhere with them?” she asked Tim.

“No. Not unless-not unless it had to do with Sandra. But they were cleared of having anything to do with Sandra’s disappearance.”

“So they were,” Gemma mused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean they didn’t know anything about it. Tim, are you sure that Naz didn’t tell you anything else? I know he was your friend, and I know you don’t want anyone to think badly of him, or of Sandra, but-”

“No.” Tim’s whisper had the force of a shout. “I’ve been racking my brain. We just talked about, I don’t know, ordinary things. Our childhoods. University. Kids. Naz said”-Tim looked away-“Naz said he didn’t know what he would do if he were separated from Charlotte.”

Suddenly, Gemma saw what Hazel had seen so clearly. Tim had needed a confidant as badly as Naz. Someone to sympathize, someone who understood what it was like to have the foundations of your life snatched away.

She asked, knowing she had no right, “Tim, did you tell Naz about Hazel?”

“Of course not,” he said, too quickly. “Well, just that we were separated, obviously, but nothing more.” He picked up his cup again, staring at the dregs of tea as he swirled them, then looked up at her. “Gemma, I’m worried about Hazel. I’ve been ringing since she left here yesterday. She won’t pick up and she won’t return my calls. She only has a mobile, so she should have it with her.” He wrapped his arms round his knees, dangling the mug by its handle. It made him look like a gangly, overgrown boy. “I know if I showed up at her place, she’d be furious-she hasn’t even invited me inside when I’ve dropped Holly off.”