Toby, picking up the strain in his brother’s voice, let go of the last cube of cheddar and looked up. “Crack whose chest? Granddad’s? Why? Is he going to die?”
“No, he’s not going to die, sweetie,” said Gemma. “Of course he’s not. He’s just had some discomfort and they’re going to make him feel better. I’m sure your dad will tell you all about it when he rings. You and Charlotte can take the dogs out for a little run, and I promise I’ll let you know as soon as your dad calls.”
When she heard the French door bang behind them, she thought suddenly of Henry Su. She’d never worried about the children when they were playing in the communal area, but perhaps it wasn’t as safe as she’d thought.
Turning to Kit, she said, “Darling, would you tell them to stay close to the patio? I—”
“You tell them,” said Kit. “I’ve got to work on my project.” But he had his phone out as he stomped out of the kitchen, and Gemma felt sure he was already texting his cousin Lally in Nantwich. She knew he was angry because he was frightened and she didn’t have the heart to reprimand him.
Sighing, she’d started for the patio doors to check on the children when the front bell rang. “What now?” she muttered, changing direction and yanking open the front door.
Melody Talbot stood on her doorstep, looking every bit as sullen as Kit had a moment before. Before Gemma could speak, Melody blurted out, “Where the hell were you today?”
Chapter Twelve
“You’d better come in,” said Gemma, frowning. She realized she’d never had a chance to ring Melody back that day, but she didn’t understand why Melody seemed so upset. Or why Melody looked so bedraggled. Her red silk blouse was half untucked, and her short, dark hair looked damp and disheveled. “Where’s your car?” Gemma added, glancing up and down the street.
“Walked from Holland Park tube.”
Gemma bit back more questions as she ushered Melody in. “I’ll just put the kettle on. I think we could both use a cuppa.” What Melody needed, she thought, was a glass of Asia Ford’s lemonade, but tea was the best she could do. As she walked back through the house, she realized she could no longer hear the children. “Hang on a sec,” she said. “Let me check on the little monsters.”
When she peered out the French doors, the children were farther away from the house than she liked. Charlotte was in the tree swing, with Geordie running in excited circles around her, his ears flapping. For a moment, Gemma didn’t see Toby and her heart gave a little skip. Then she spied him, crouching down and digging at something in the ground.
“Charlotte, be careful,” she called. “Toby, stop whatever it is you’re doing. And stay on the patio where I can see you. Both of you. I mean it.”
Melody had come up behind her. “Practicing my fishwife,” Gemma told her, a little embarrassed to have been heard shouting at them. “But I’m feeling a bit overprotective today. If you don’t mind, we’ll bring our tea back in here where I can keep an eye on them.” She thought it better not to talk on the patio where the children could overhear them, and it was cooler in the house.
Gemma made the tea quickly, splashing hot water onto Yorkshire Gold tea bags and adding milk as she dunked the bags in the mugs. Melody, usually so helpfully capable, stood silently, watching. By the time Gemma carried the mugs into the sitting room, she was feeling awkward as well as concerned. She checked on the children again, then sat in the armchair and tucked her feet up under her. Melody took the sofa and perched on the edge, as stiff-backed as a child called to the head’s office, her tea untouched on the side table.
“I’m sorry about today,” Gemma said. “It was—”
“Krueger called me into her office for a bollocking,” Melody broke in. “Because you weren’t there. She said you’d been seconded to another team.”
“Not exactly,” Gemma began, but Melody interrupted.
“And what about the chief super?”
Gemma realized that she hadn’t spoken to Melody since Duncan’s visit to hospital. “Duncan went to the London yesterday, after you called. They’ve put Denis in a coma, to reduce the swelling from the head injury. And they’re worried about his liver.”
“His liver? Why?”
“Because of the transpla—” Too late, Gemma remembered that they only knew about the transplant because Denis had told Duncan when they’d met on Saturday night. And that Duncan didn’t want anyone knowing he’d seen Denis just a few minutes before he was attacked.
But surely other people knew about the transplant, like Chief Superintendent Faith. They must have talked about it at the hospital.
“What?” Melody demanded. “What are you talking about?”
Gemma couldn’t take it back, so there was nothing for it but to go forward. She took a breath and said, “Denis Childs had a liver transplant. That’s why he was away, apparently.”
“But— But that’s bonkers.” Melody frowned. “Although I can believe he was ill. He hasn’t looked great, the last year or two. But why all the cloak-and-dagger?”
“I suppose he didn’t want people knowing he was ill.” Gemma hated not telling Melody everything. Trying to mask her discomfort, she shifted in her chair and said, “Have you heard anything about his condition today?”
Picking up her mug at last, Melody shook her head without meeting Gemma’s eyes. “No, nothing. But you’d know better than I. Surely Duncan’s heard—”
“Duncan’s not here,” Gemma blurted out. “He’s gone to Cheshire. His dad had chest pains last night.” She’d been composed for the children, but now, talking about it to a friend, her eyes filled with unexpected tears.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” Melody sat forward, instantly contrite. Drops of tea sloshed onto her red skirt, but she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s Hugh, isn’t it, your father-in-law? Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know. Duncan hasn’t rung since he left this morning. And he should have been there hours ago.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just caught up in family stuff. And here I’ve shown up on your doorstep acting an absolute cow, when you’ve this on your plate. I really am sorry.”
“No, you couldn’t have known. And I didn’t know this morning. That’s not why I wasn’t in today.”
This time, Gemma did tell Melody everything. About meeting Jess at the dance class, about MacKenzie asking her to meet Reagan Keating’s mother at the Cusicks’ yesterday, about the call from Marc Lamb on her way into work that morning. She told her about the meeting with Kerry Boatman, the postmortem, and about visiting the scene of the girl’s death.
Melody listened with widening eyes. “Crikey,” she said when Gemma had finished. “You have been a busy bee. This DCI—Boatman—you said you’d met her before. Is she okay? Or is she just covering her arse?”
“I think . . .” Gemma said, considering, “I think she’s a good detective. I don’t envy her being pressured by Lamb and the Williamses. But on the other hand, Bill and MacKenzie were right to push for a thorough investigation. They knew Reagan, and their instincts were right. She didn’t die of natural causes.”