Necessary as Blood

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 worktop. ‘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 post-mortem.‘
    ‘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 enquiries 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 colour. 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