Necessary as Blood

Kincaid‘s smile conveyed more threat than charm. ‘I‘m afraid we will have to insist.‘
    The staring match lasted a moment, then she got up, her mouth pinched with disapproval, and said, ‘I‘ll just see if he‘s finished his lunch.‘
    ‘These paintings look the kind of thing you‘d pick up at a market stall,‘ Kincaid murmured in Gemma‘s ear as the receptionist left the room. ‘If he has a collage, I doubt he displays it for the paying customers.‘
    They heard a door opening and closing nearby, and after a moment the receptionist returned. ‘Mr Truman will see you in his office. Next door on the right.‘ She dismissed them with a nod and turned back to her computer.
    It seemed to Gemma that the woman‘s lack of curiosity at the advent of three police officers demanding to see her boss indicated a profound lack of imagination. Perhaps that was why Tximan employed her.
    Kincaid knocked on the door that the receptionist had indicated, then opened it and went in, followed by Gemma and Cullen.
    John Truman didn‘t bother to get up from behind his desk. A pudgy man, perhaps in his forties, he boasted thinning hair combed artfully over his scalp. He was straightening a stack of files, and his hands seemed unnaturally pale, the fingers sausage-like. His small mouth was pursed in an expression that managed to combine indignation with self-satisfaction.
    Gemma found him instantly repellent. She couldn‘t imagine turning her dog or cat over to his care, and the thought of a child...
    ‘This is very inconvenient,‘ Truman said in a high, slightly breathy voice. ‘I can‘t imagine why you want to speak to me.‘
    Gemma saw Kincaid‘s mouth twitch with annoyance. He wasn‘t much of a one for standing on rank, but the man‘s behaviour towards a senior police officer was appallingly rude. ‘It‘s Detective Superintendent Kincaid, Mr Truman, Scotland Yard. And this is Detective Inspector James and Detective Sergeant Cullen. We understand that you knew Sandra Gilles. I believe you own some of her work.‘
    ‘Sandra?‘ Truman looked genuinely shocked. ‘I have a collage, yes, in my house. They‘re very collectible. But what has that to do with you?‘
    ‘You do realize that Sandra Gilles has been missing for months?‘
    ‘Well, yes, but as you said, it‘s been months. I still don‘t see—‘
    ‘And where did you learn that Sandra was missing, Mr Truman? Would that have been at the club in Wide-gate Street?‘
    Truman stared at him. His fat white fingers moved convulsively. ‘That‘s not — how did you — I‘ve no idea what you‘re talking about.‘
    ‘Was it Lucas Ritchie who introduced you to Sandra?‘ asked Gemma. She sat, uninvited, in the chair in front of Truman‘s desk, leaning forward so that she encroached on his personal space as much as possible.
    ‘Well, yes, but there‘s nothing wrong with that.‘ Truman looked incensed. ‘I still don‘t see...‘
    Kincaid took up the volley. ‘Where were you the Saturday before last, Mr Truman?‘
    ‘Why on earth do you — I was in Spain, if you must know. It is August, and the last I heard there was no law against taking a holiday.‘ Glaring at them, he added, ‘Are you the ones responsible for hounding Lucas Ritchie? I saw that piece in the newspaper. That sort of thing should be against the law.‘
    ‘The newspaper story may have been in questionable taste, but I don‘t think it crossed the line into libel,‘ Kincaid said pleasantly. ‘And I assure you we‘re not hounding anyone. We‘re merely doing our job, which is to investigate the disappearance of Sandra Gilles, and the murder of her husband, Nasir Malik.‘
    ‘Murder?‘ Truman came close to squeaking.
    ‘Surely you were aware of that? Lucas Ritchie knew, and it seems to have been common knowledge at the club.‘
    ‘I haven‘t been there much lately,‘ Truman muttered, apparently losing sight of the fact that he‘d been denying any knowledge of the place a moment before. ‘Maybe I did hear something, but it meant nothing to me. I never met the man.‘
    ‘That‘s a bit unfeeling of you, considering you knew Sandra.‘ Hands in his pockets, Kincaid had moved round one side of Truman‘s desk, studying the plaques on the walls. Cullen walked to the other side and stood, watching Truman. Kincaid and Cullen had learned, Gemma realized, that instant and silent communication required of partners. She felt a twinge of jealousy, quickly repressed. That was as it