Necessary as Blood

held pots and tools and seed trays.
    Roy Blakely shifted a chair for her, then came back a moment later with a plastic tumbler of water, cold from the fridge.
    ‘Thanks.‘ Gemma took it gratefully. ‘I walked from Old Street. Your garden is lovely. Did you design it yourself?‘
    As Blakely sat on the edge of the other chair, Gemma noticed the mud stains on the knees of his jeans.
    ‘I‘m a one-man Ground Force, darlin‘,‘ he said. ‘Now, what‘s this all about? Are you telling me that little Charlotte is with Gail?‘
    Gemma set her tumbler down on the flagstones and leaned forward. ‘Not yet. Charlotte‘s in foster care for the moment. But Gail is her nearest living relative, so unless the court has good reason to decide against her petition, Charlotte will go to her.‘
    He grimaced, then said, ‘And what do you have to do with any of this?‘
    She explained about Tim and Naz, and how she had come to be involved in the investigation into Naz‘s death, and how she had helped arrange a temporary placement for Charlotte.
    ‘But my friend told me that Naz and Sandra didn‘t want Charlotte to have anything to do with her grandmother,‘ she continued, ‘and I‘ve since heard some other things that make me think... I‘m afraid of what will happen to Charlotte.‘
    Blakely shook his head. ‘I never thought — when Sandra disappeared... I know it was tough for Naz, caring for a child on his own, but I thought he was the coping sort. I never imagined — what the hell happened to him? The rumours floating round could sink a ship.‘
    ‘We‘ — she caught herself — ‘they don‘t know exactly, but it looks like he was murdered.‘
    ‘Murdered?‘ Blakely stared at her. ‘Why would somebody want to kill Naz Malik? Nice bloke. Good father, good husband. Helped people out when they needed it.‘ He shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘Although, since Sandra‘s been gone, he‘s been a bit of a walking ghost. Not quite all there. I have to admit I was beginning to wonder if he could go on without her, if you want the truth.‘ He hesitated, then said, ‘You‘re sure he didn‘t—‘
    ‘The pathologist and the local police believe it was murder. Scotland Yard‘s been called in.‘
    Blakely‘s hands twitched and flexed, as if he were uncomfortable at not having something to do with them. She thought he‘d paled a little beneath his tan. ‘And Sandra?‘ he asked. ‘Have they found out something about Sandra?‘
    ‘No, though they can‘t help but wonder if Naz‘s murder and Sandra‘s disappearance are somehow connected. Are you certain there‘s noth—‘
    ‘Do you think I haven‘t gone over every single word said that day a million times, trying to find something, make some sense of it?‘ He turned towards her, his knuckles now white where he gripped the chair arms. ‘I‘ve memorized every word she said. I dream them. And there‘s nothing, absolutely nothing, that explains where she can have gone.‘
    ‘I‘d like to hear, if you could manage to tell it one more time,‘ Gemma said softly.
    He leaned back again, closed his eyes. When he spoke, it was carefully, as if every word mattered. ‘She came late, just as we were beginning to shut down the stall. I looked up, and she was standing there with Charlotte on her hip, watching me. I said something like, ‘Come for the best of the lot, have you?‘ because we always joked about me saving the knock-downs for her at the end of the day. Charlotte piped up, wanting a cupcake, but Sandra told her to wait. And then she said, “Roy, can I ask a favour? I‘ve an errand, but I won‘t be long. We have to meet Naz at two.‘‘
    ‘Charlotte wanted to help with the flowers. Sandra set her down. Then she looked at her watch. And now, when I look back at it, I think she hesitated for a minute, a fraction of a minute. But then she kissed Charlotte, and waved at me, and walked away. The next time I looked up, she was gone. That‘s it,‘ he finished roughly.
    ‘Did she have anything with her?‘ asked Gemma, trying to imagine the scene.
    ‘Just her handbag. But I used to tell her she could get the bloody London Eye in that thing.‘
    ‘Did she look different, or sound different...?‘
    ‘No!‘ Blakely rubbed a hand over his mouth, as if he were making an effort to maintain his patience. ‘No. She had on jeans and a T-shirt. I don‘t remember what colour the shirt was. I‘ve tried. Some days she tied her hair back, but that day it