Out of the Ashes: A DI Maya Rahman novel. Vicky Newham

      ‘I’m really sorry about what’s happened. I know how hard these questions are to answer. I can’t promise that it’s going to be easy for anyone, but I give you my word that I will not rest until we find out who did this.’

      She acknowledged the comment with a curt nod and closed her eyes, as though she couldn’t believe what had happened.

      ‘A few final things – back on the ward, why was Indra looking to you to tell her what to say?’

      Marta fiddled with her cigarettes and lighter.

      ‘It was the same when she called 999. You were in the background.’

      ‘My sister is much nicer than me, but she isn’t as strong as me. Living with Simas ground her down. She works all day, every day, and she’s been doing language classes. You can see how thin she is. Everyone thinks immigrants are lazy and can’t be bothered to learn English, and Indra was determined to prove them wrong.’ She paused. ‘I’m her big sister so now it’s my turn to look after her.’

      I took in Marta’s explanation. What was bothering me was whether Indra had any inkling what her husband was going to get up to when she’d left for her sister’s yesterday. Did she believe they’d made a fresh start and that Simas had changed his ways? What a horrible mess.

      ‘Why did Indra phone 999 and say she thought someone had murdered her husband?’

      ‘I don’t know. I told her not to. It’s what we were arguing about. If you get someone to translate, what you will hear in the background is me asking her what the hell she’s doing.’

      I recalled something that Indra had mentioned. ‘Why didn’t Simas accompany Indra to the hospital for her scan?’

      ‘Because he’s an asshole.’

      ‘Did he know that his wife was pregnant?’

Maya, 9.15 a.m.

      I was at the hospital reception, still taking in the implications of Marta’s answer.

      Dan was talking on his phone. ‘We’ll go straight there,’ he said into his receiver. ‘Tell him not to leave the premises.’ He ended the call. ‘Alexej has spoken to Artem Gudelis and arranged for us to interview him at his club. Shall we go?’

      ‘Where’s Rosa?’

      ‘She’s gone to her daughter’s. She got the consultant to discharge her. I managed to have a word with him about the state of the shop and the damp, and he knew about the dreams and her asthma, so he only agreed to let her go home if she promised to stay at Agnieszka’s for at least a week. I’ve just put her in a black cab.’

      ‘Phew. At least she’ll be safe there.’ We discussed recent developments as we walked towards the exit.

      ‘Ten weeks pregnant and Simas didn’t know? Jeez.’ Dan stared at me in disbelief. ‘Did Marta say why Indra hadn’t told him?’

      ‘Apparently, Simas was adamant he didn’t want children.’

      ‘Meaning what? Indra hoped he’d change his mind and was building up to telling him? She was waiting ’til she was past the three-month mark? Simas wasn’t the father?’

      ‘Marta swore she didn’t know why. All she said was she and Indra don’t discuss Simas any more.’

      Dan tutted. ‘That’s convenient.’

      ‘Actually, I believe her. She clearly has a low opinion of her brother-in-law. Perhaps she found it easiest, and kindest, not to talk about him.’ Mum flashed through my mind. Had this been why she hadn’t wanted to talk about Dad?

      ‘I wonder what Artem will say about his brother’s philandering.’ Dan pulled a face. ‘I’d put money on two things. He’ll be on the defensive and he’ll take Simas’ side.’

      At the exit, as the glass doors swung back, a swarm of reporters surged towards us, firing out questions and wanting their pound of flesh.

      ‘Inspector, is it true that the other person in the fire was a woman?’ asked one.

      ‘Keep walking,’ I hissed at Dan, blinking amidst the blinding flash lights.

      ‘Given the woman in the fire wasn’t the shopkeeper’s wife, who was it?’ another shouted.

      ‘Inspector, what precautions have you taken to keep the capital safe in the face of fears about copy-cat fires?’ It was Tony from the City Eye again.

      Something slid round the back of my hair and ear. I turned to see a microphone below my chin, and it was then stuffed towards my mouth.

      ‘Can you confirm reports that a child was in the fire?’ The beefy hulk of a journo bellowed at me, practically spitting in my face.