Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(230)

“They just want to talk to us, Yumn,” Sahlah said in her gentle lamb's voice.

“Well, if I'm made to bear this, I will not bear it unaided. Fetch me some tea. And I want real sugar, not that sour chemical business. Do you hear me? Where are you going, Sahlah? I said, fetch me some tea.”

Sahlah entered the sitting room, her face impassive. Yumn was saying petulantly, “I asked you to … I am your brother's wife. You have a duty,” as she followed her sister-in-law into the room. There, she gave her attention to the two detectives. “What more do you want of me?” she demanded of them. “What more do you wish to do to me now? You've driven him—driven him—from his family. And for what reason? Because you're jealous. You're eaten with jealousy. You have no men of your own, and you can't bear the thought that someone else might have one. And not just any man, but a real man, a man among—”

“Sit down,” Barbara told the woman.

Yumn gulped. She looked to her in-laws for a reprimand to the insult given her. An outsider did not tell her what to do, her expression said. But no one made this protest on her behalf.

With affronted dignity, she walked to an armchair. If she realised the import of the photograph album and the pair of scissors lying next to it on the coffee table, she gave no sign. Barbara shot a look at Akram, realising that he'd gathered the pictures from the floor and thrown them into the fireplace in order to spare his daughter-in-law having to witness one of the initial ceremonies illustrating her husband's official banishment.

Sahlah returned to the sofa. Akram went to another armchair. Barbara stayed where she was by the mantel, Emily by one of the room's closed windows. She looked as if she wanted to throw it open. The air inside was tepid and stale.

From this moment forward, Barbara knew, the entire investigation became a crap shoot. She drew a deep breath and rattled the dice. “Mr. Malik,” she said, “can you or your wife tell us where your son was on Friday night?”

Akram frowned. “I see no purpose to this question, unless you have come to my home with a desire to torment us.”

The women were motionless, their attention on Akram. Then Sahlah reached forward and picked up the scissors.

“Right,” Barbara said. “But if you thought Muhannad was innocent until he scarpered this afternoon, then you must have had a reason for thinking that. And the reason must be that you knew where he was on Friday night. Am I right?”

Yumn said, “My Muni was—”

“I'd like to hear it from his father,” Barbara cut in.

Akram said slowly, still reflecting, “He was not at home. I recall this much because—”

Yumn said, “Abhy, you must have forgotten that—”

“Let him answer,” Emily ordered.

“I can answer,” Wardah Malik said. “Muhannad was in Colchester on Friday night. He always dines there once each month with a friend from university. Rakin Khan, he's called.”

“Sus, no,” Yumn's voice was high. She fluttered her hands. “Muni didn't go to Colchester on Friday. That would have been on Thursday. You've confused the dates because of what happened to Haytham.”

Wardah looked perplexed. She glanced at her husband as if for guidance. Slowly, Sahlah's gaze moved among them.

“You've just forgotten,” Yumn continued. “How easy to do, considering all that's happened. But surely you remember—”

“No,” Wardah said. “My memory is actually quite accurate, Yumn. He went to Colchester. He phoned from work before he left because he was worried about Anas's nightmares, and he asked me to change what I was making for the boys’ tea. He thought the food might be upsetting him.”

“Oh yes,” Yumn said, “but that would have been on Thursday, because Anas had one of his bad dreams on Wednesday night.”

“It was Friday,” Wardah said. “Because I'd done the shopping, which I always do on Friday. You know that yourself, because you were helping me put the groceries away, and you were the one who answered the phone when Muni rang.”

“No, no, no.” Yumn's head moved frantically, directing her gaze first to Wardah, then to Akram, then to Barbara herself. “He wasn't in Colchester. He was with me. Here in this house. We were upstairs, so you would have forgotten. But we were in our bedroom, Muni and I. Abhy, you saw us. You spoke to us both.”

Akram said nothing. His face was grave.

“Sahlah. Bahin, you know we were here. I asked for you. I asked Muni to fetch you. He would have done so. He would have gone to your room and instructed you to—”

“No, Yumn. That isn't how it was.” Sahlah spoke so carefully that it seemed as if she set each word on a thin sheet of ice and wished to be diligent about not fracturing it. She seemed to be realising what each of her words meant as she said them. “Muni wasn't here. He wasn't in the house. And …” She hesitated. Her face was stricken as, perhaps, she understood the import of what she was about to say, and she fully comprehended how her words would devastate the lives of two innocent little boys. “And neither were you, Yumn. You weren't here either.”

“I was!” Yumn cried. “How dare you say that I wasn't here! What are you thinking, you stupid girl?”

“Anas had one of his nightmares,” Sahlah said. “I went in to him. He was screaming and Bishr had started to cry as well. I thought, Where is Yumn? Why doesn't she come to them? How can she sleep so well that she doesn't hear this terrible noise in the very next room? I even thought at the time that you were just too lazy to get out of bed. But you're never too lazy when it comes to the boys. You never have been.”