Necessary as Blood

right, Doug,‘ Kincaid said, his patience fraying. ‘If Alexander killed Sandra Gilles, he had to put her body somewhere, and the garden is as good a place to start as any.‘
    He took Alexander‘s passport out of the bag and flipped through it, raising an eyebrow as he read. ‘Quite the traveller, I see. Regular trips to Thailand and Bangladesh, as well as visits to Spain, favourite holiday spot of his mate Truman.‘
    Cullen pulled a chair up to the desk. ‘And quite the serial monogamist, too, if you believe the records.‘ His face lit up with a self-satisfied grin. ‘I‘ve been through the files. Every couple of years for the past decade he‘s married a girl — supposedly of age — in Bangladesh or Thailand, then brought her into the UK. Then, after a year or two — I‘d assume it‘s when they‘ve got too "old‘‘ for his taste — he files for divorce, in each case assuring the judge that he‘ll pay the girl maintenance so that she won‘t become a burden on the state. Then the girl disappears from the system. Very neat.‘
    ‘Any-‘
    Cullen cut Kincaid off. ‘The best part is yet to come. It‘s been the same court in every case, and the judge‘s name is on the members‘ list of Lucas Ritchie‘s club.‘
    ‘And was his lawyer the same bloke who‘s representing him now?‘
    Cullen thought about it. ‘Yeah. As a matter of fact, it was.‘
    ‘How much do you want to wager that the lawyer‘s name is on Ritchie‘s list, too?‘ Kincaid asked with rising glee. Shuffling through the papers on his desk, he found the list, then ran his finger down it until he found the name he was seeking. ‘Bloody hallelujah!‘ Grinning, he looked up at Cullen. ‘Bingo! I thought his name sounded familiar. No wonder he‘s looked so nervous.‘
    ‘If he‘s one of Alexander‘s playmates, he‘ll be thanking whoever he prays to that he wasn‘t in Alexander‘s photo album.‘
    Kincaid glanced at his watch. ‘Speaking of the photo album, Ritchie should be at the club by now. It‘s time we took those photos round. I‘ll just—‘ His desk phone rang and he broke off to answer.
    It was the receptionist informing him that a Ms Louise Phillips was downstairs.
    ‘Have someone show her up to my office,‘ Kincaid said, deciding he‘d rather speak to her there than in an interview room.
    ‘News travels fast,‘ he said to Cullen, and a few moments later, a uniformed constable showed Louise Phillips in.
    She looked better than when he had last seen her, as if she were beginning to pull herself together after the shock of her partner‘s death. But she still smelled of smoke, and her dark eyes were as intent as ever, liking the chair Cullen offered her, she got right to the point. ‘I hear you arrested someone, a suspect in Naz‘s murder — an anaesthetist named Alexander.‘
    ‘Do you know him?‘ Kincaid asked.
    ‘No. But there‘s something you should know. I‘m here on behalf of my client.‘
    ‘Azad?‘ Kincaid wondered if they‘d been wrong to discount Azad‘s involvement in the child trafficking.
    ‘Mr Azad has been very distressed over Naz‘s murder. He didn‘t feel he could speak, however, as long as he was in the delicate position of facing charges himself.‘
    ‘Are you telling me the Crown dropped its case?‘
    ‘Mr Azad‘s nephew has returned. He no longer wishes to testify against his uncle.‘
    ‘Please, enough of the lawyer-speak, Ms Phillips,‘ Kincaid said, exasperated. ‘What are you here to tell us?‘
    Phillips touched her bag, as if she were about to reach for a cigarette, then sat back in her chair with a sigh. ‘Look, it‘s like this. Azad‘s silly nephew got himself involved in a forced-labour scheme in East Anglia. They promised him the moon, then kept him in a hut for weeks, except when they sent him and the others they‘d recruited out to work in the fields. No decent food, little water, no lavs, no medical care — even after he suffered a bad cut — and absolutely no communication with the outside world.
    ‘But the day before yesterday, he managed to get away and thumb a ride back to London. He‘s thrilled to be back in his uncle‘s house, and now thinks washing dishes in the restaurant kitchen is heaven on earth. So he‘s not about to bite the hand that — quite literally — feeds him.‘
    ‘I‘m sure his uncle must be thrilled by his nephew‘s safe return,‘ Kincaid said sardonically. ‘But I don‘t see...‘
    ‘Having heard about