Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(211)

“There are things between husbands and wives,” she said smugly to Barbara, “that are not for the hearing of mothers-in-law. And as I am the wife of Muhannad and the mother of his sons—”

“Yeah. Right.” The last thing Barbara wanted was another rendition of the song and dance she'd had from this woman on her first day in Balford. She had the impression that whatever her religion, Yumn could get positively biblical when it came to the begetting and begatting game. “Where can we talk?”

They would talk upstairs, Yumn told her. She had to bathe the sons of Muhannad prior to their tea, and the sergeant could speak to her as she did so. The sergeant would want to see this activity anyway. The naked sons of Muhannad were a sight to give the heart its greatest joy.

Right, Barbara thought. She could hardly wait.

Mrs. Malik said, “But, Yumn, you don't wish Sahlah to bathe them today?” She spoke in so quiet a fashion that the fact that her question was far more pointed than Yumn's previous comments had been was something that could be easily overlooked by anyone unused to subtleties.

Barbara was unsurprised when Yumn's reply indicated that only an axe driven between her eyes would get her attention. A scalpel between the ribs went largely unfelt. She said, “She may read to them in the evening, Sus-jahn. If, of course, they are not too tired. And if her choice of material will not give my Anas further nightmares.” And to Barbara, “Come along with me.”

Barbara followed the woman's large backside up the stairs. Yumn was chatting away happily. “How people deceive themselves,” she confided. “My mother-in-law believes that she's the vessel that holds my husband's heart. It's unfortunate, isn't it? He's her only son—she could have only the two children, you know, my Muni and his sister—so she's tied to him too strongly for her own good.”

“Is she?” Barbara said. “I'd think she'd be tied more to Sahlah. Both of them being women. You know.”

“Sahlah?” Yumn tittered. “Who would seek to be tied to such a worthless little thing? My sons are in here.”

She led the way into a bedroom where two small boys were playing on the floor. The younger child wore only a nappie—whose sagging in the direction of his knees indicated its sodden condition—while the older was completely naked. His discarded clothing—nappy, T-shirt, shorts, and sandals—lay in a pile that appeared to be serving as an obstacle course for the lorries he and his brother were pushing round.

“Anas. Bishr.” Yumn sang their names. “Come to Ammī-gee. Time for our bath.”

The boys continued playing.

“And Twisters afterwards, darling ones.”

That got their attention. They set aside their toys and allowed themselves to be scooped up by their mother. Yumn said gaily, “This way,” to Barbara and carried her treasures to the bathroom. She filled the tub with an inch of water, deposited the two boys, and dropped in three yellow ducks, two sailboats, a ball, and four sponges. She squeezed liquid soap liberally on all the toys as well as the sponges and handed these last to the boys to play with. “Bathing should be a delightful game,” she informed Barbara as she stood back to watch the children begin swatting each other with the soapy sponges. Bubbles drifted into the air. “Your auntie only scrubs and rubs, doesn't she?” Yumn asked the boys. “Tiresome auntie. But your ammī-gee makes bathing fun. Shall we play with the boats? Do we need more duckies? Do you love your ammī-gee better than anyone?”

The boys were too occupied with plastering each other's face with the sponges to pay her much attention. She ruffled their hair and then, after sighing with satisfaction over them, said to Barbara, “These are my pride. Their father's also. And they will be just like him, men among men.”

“Right,” Barbara said. “I can see the likeness.”

“Can you?” Yumn stood back from the tub and reflected on her sons as if they were works of art. “Yes. Well, Anas has his father's eyes. And Bishr …” She chuckled. “Shall we say that in time, my Bishr shall have something else quite like his father's as well? Won't you be a bullgod to your wife someday, Bishr?”

Barbara thought at first that Yumn had said bulldog, but when the woman reached between her son's legs to display his penis—approximately the size of Barbara's little toe—she adjusted her thinking. Nothing quite like starting the bloke out on his complexes early, she decided.

“Mrs. Malik,” she said, “I've come here looking for your husband. Can you tell me where he is?”

“What on earth can you want with my Muni?” She bent over the bathtub and ran one of the sponges up and down Bishr's back. “He hasn't failed to pay a parking fine, has he?”

“Just some questions I'd like to put to him,” Barbara said.

“Questions? About what? Has something happened?”

Barbara knotted her eyebrows. The woman couldn't possibly be this much out of the loop. She said, “Haytham Querashi—”

“Oh, that. But you don't want to talk to my Muni about Haytham Querashi. He hardly knew him. You want to speak to Sahlah.”

“I do?” Barbara watched Yumn playfully dribbling soap along the plane of Anas's shoulders.

“Of course. Sahlah was up to some nasty business. Haytham discovered what it was—who knows how?—and they had words. Words led to …It's sad what words lead people to, isn't it? Darlings, here. Shall we float our boats on the waves?” She splashed water against their thighs. The boats bobbed and weaved. The boys laughed and struck the water with their fists.