Leaving Kerry to deal with transferring Asia to the ambulance, and with instructing the uniformed officers to secure the patio and greenhouse, Gemma hurried to the Cusicks’.
Nita answered the door on the first ring, looking startled and not particularly pleased to see Gemma. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t a good time. I was just going out.” She wore, not business attire, but yoga bottoms and trainers.
“I’m afraid it won’t wait.” Gemma stepped inside, uninvited, and with a shrug, Nita led her into the sitting room. The white roses, Gemma saw, were still in their bowl, but wilted, and the room had a stale, unpleasant smell.
Nita turned to face Gemma, her arms crossed over her breasts, small under the thin T-shirt. “If this is about Edward Miller, I’m sure you know you’ve harassed my client for no reason. I don’t appre—”
“Mrs. Cusick, your neighbor Asia Ford was attacked in her greenhouse a few minutes ago. Have you seen anyone in the garden?”
“What? What are you talking about?” Nita stared at her, her face blanching beneath her makeup. “How— That’s impossible. Is she—is she all right?”
“She’s going to be fine. She needs a few stitches.”
Nita sat on the nearest sofa as if her legs had been knocked from under her. “Thank God. But who . . .”
“I was hoping you might tell us that. Were you home all morning?”
“I had my yoga class, early. Then I ran into the office to do some paperwork. And then, Asia rang me . . .”
“You went to see her?”
“I stopped in, yes. She was very upset. She was going on about people stealing things from her. I thought she might be confused.”
“About the alcohol being missing?”
“Ye-es. I suppose.”
“Has Asia been confused about things before?” Gemma asked, sitting down opposite Nita.
“Well, no, but—I couldn’t imagine that someone would—”
“Nita.” Gemma was losing patience. “Asia rang you this morning because she was worried about Jess. She said she saw him in the garden, after school starting time. Where is he?”
Nita’s face crumpled and she put a hand to her mouth. “I don’t know. The school rang. He didn’t sign the register this morning. Now that Reagan’s gone he makes his own way to school on the mornings I have yoga class. He was gone when I got home, so I just assumed . . .”
“Of course you did,” Gemma said. “But it was hours ago that Asia said she saw him in the garden—”
“I don’t believe for one minute that my son got into her alcohol,” Nita broke in, sniffing. “I told her. Jess would nev—”
“That may be true. But someone has been hurt, and your son is missing. We need to find him,” Gemma insisted. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
Slumping, Nita shook her head. “He only goes to school and to dance. He’s not at school, and there are no dance classes until after school hours.” She looked up at Gemma, tears in her eyes again. “He’s only ten.”
“Almost eleven,” corrected Gemma, coming to sit beside her and giving her shoulder a pat. If, as Chris Cusick had guessed, Jess had made his way to Finsbury Park and back on his own last Saturday, he was a pretty savvy kid. “We’ll find him,” she told Nita. “In the meantime, you stay here, so that you can let us know if he calls or comes home. Okay?”
“Okay.” Nita gave her a tentative smile. “But what if—”
Gemma was already shaking her head. “No. Don’t worry. You’ve checked Jess’s room?” Nita nodded. “Did he take anything unusual?”
Nita thought for a moment. “His dance bag was gone. He usually picks it up after school.”
After making certain that Nita had her mobile number, Gemma left her and went back to Asia Ford’s house. The paramedics were still checking Asia, so Gemma called Kerry into the front hall and filled her in.
“Can you have a look for him in the garden?” she asked.
“I can, but, look, Gemma. If this kid stole Ford’s high-proof alcohol, he could have given it to Reagan, then smothered her. He’s a strong kid, with physical training. He could have done it. Then, maybe he was worried that Asia would connect him to the missing booze, so he hung around this morning waiting for an opportunity to get rid of her.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Gemma. “There’s no actual evidence that he took the alcohol. And even if he had, I don’t believe that Reagan would have agreed to a midnight tryst in the garden, with drinks, with her ten-year-old charge.”
“Okay, okay.” Kerry rolled her eyes at Gemma’s vehemence. “I agree it’s pretty unlikely. But, then who took Asia Ford’s alcohol? What was the boy doing in the garden this morning? And where the hell is he now?”
“I don’t know, but I’m worried about him. We know he’s been angry and uncommunicative since Reagan died. He and Reagan were close. What if he’s not just grieving? What if he knows something? Or saw something? We have no idea what he was doing the night Reagan was killed. In my experience, ten-year-old boys don’t normally go to bed when they say they will, and if his mother took a sleeping pill, she couldn’t check on him.”
“Oh, hell.” Kerry blew out a breath. “Don’t tell me we’ve got an endangered child on our hands. Before we call out the cavalry, let’s look in all the obvious—”
Gemma’s mobile rang. Thinking it might be Nita with news, she waved a hand at Kerry to excuse herself.
It wasn’t Nita, however, but Thea Osho, the young woman they’d met at Bill’s. “Detective,” she said, a little hesitantly, “you wanted me to ring you.”
Gemma stepped outside. “Thea, why was Reagan arguing with Sidney at the piano bar on Friday night?”
“Sidney?”
“Yes, Sidney. None of you told us that.”
There was silence on the phone. Finally, Thea said, “They’re my friends, wankers that they are. I didn’t want to get them into trouble. Reagan found out that Hugo used one of Sidney’s papers on a major degree project. She was furious with them both. She couldn’t bear people being dishonest.”
“She was going to break up with Hugo over that?” asked Gemma.
“She said if he cheated on one thing, she could never be sure he wasn’t cheating on something else. And, well, I think meeting Edward Miller put Hugo in a new light.”
“Smart girl,” Gemma murmured after she’d thanked Thea and hung up. It would have been a good decision—if Reagan had lived to see it through.
But what had any of this to do with Jess having gone missing?
Gemma stood, staring blankly into Blenheim Crescent, shivering a little in the breeze that had come up with the scudding clouds. Where would you go if you were a ten-year-old boy, and you were angry, and maybe frightened? She didn’t believe he was hiding in the garden. He hadn’t gone to his father—they’d just seen Chris Cusick and she’d no reason to think he had been untruthful with them.
She thought about the things Chris had said, and what Nita had told her just a bit ago.
And suddenly she knew where to look.