Quiet in Her Bones Singh, Nalini (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📖

she nodded and began to put together a sandwich. I knew she’d feed me a gourmet Indian meal if I gave the least hint of wanting one, but she’d picked up on the fact I generally threw together a sandwich for lunch. Of course, she continued to be horrified when I tried to do that ­myself—­to Shanti, food was the job of the woman of the house.

In this particular situation, I could see her point. Shanti had no power in her relationship or in this family. The kitchen was the only place that was unquestionably her domain. “Where’s Pari?” My half sister was usually home by now.

A deep smile that lit her eyes. “She had a school trip ­today—­to climb Rangitoto Island! The things these girls do nowadays. That’s why I’m starting dinner ­now—­so I can pick her up later than the usual time.” Sandwich complete, she slid the plate across to me, then went and grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge.

I didn’t argue when she poured it out into a glass.

“Oh, I got you the sweets you like.” She brought over two bags, one of which held Peanut Slab chocolate bars, the other Diana’s artisan fudge. She’d kept up that small business even after they’d sold the café.

“You shouldn’t eat so much sugar, you know,” Shanti added.

Grinning, I shrugged. “It’s brain fuel. And Diana’s fudge is made from ­all-­natural ingredients, so it must be healthy.” As Shanti shook her head, I said, “How was Dad after he returned home this morning?”

Her face fell, her eyes flicking toward the doorway into the kitchen. My father’s study was to the right and down a long corridor, but she still lowered her voice as she said, “He didn’t go to his office. I think he’s very sad. Even though he divorced your mother, he thinks of her a lot.”

“Shanti, they hated each other.” I ate another bite of the sandwich.

“Yes, but hate can bind.” Soft, perceptive words.

I looked up, but she had her head down as she chopped some spinach. But head down didn’t mean no ears and no brain. “Sometimes, I hated her, too.”

Shanti jerked up her head, her eyes huge. “Don’t say that about your mother. You don’t mean it.”

Shrugging, I took a drink. “I loved her, too,” I said after putting down the glass. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone else. But you didn’t know my mother. She could ­be …” Mean. Abrasive. Dangerous. “Never mind. It’s just the day I’ve had.”

“Of course. Of course.” Shanti knew never to touch me, our relationship a thing of carefully drawn lines, but today she smiled with open gentleness. “Your father did mention that we’d do all the appropriate ceremonies.”

Had he? Well, the bastard was about to get a wake-­up call. Divorce meant he’d severed all legal ties to my mother. I was the one with the right to make the calls about her remains.

To ensure that my father didn’t do an end run around me, I walked out the front door after finishing my food, and made a call to Constable Neri. “I wanted to make sure that when you’re ready to release the remains, I’m the one you contact.”

“Your father’s secretary’s already been in touch about funeral details.”

“He divorced her while ­bad-­mouthing her all over town. Legally, I’m her next of kin.”

A pause. “I’ll have to talk to my superior officer, ­but—­”

“Do it. I don’t want him to make a circus of my mother’s funeral.”

Her voice was noticeably cooler when she said, “If you’ll wait a moment.”

It took more like five minutes, but when she came back, she said, “We understand your stance, and legally, you do have the right. As such, you are now listed as your mother’s next of kin. However, given the circumstances, it’s probably better if you act as a whānau.”

Whānau.

Such a warm word, a word that described far more than just the nuclear family unit. Bonds across generations, bonds chosen, bonds tight and unbreakable, that was what it meant to be whānau.

My laugh was a crack of ­pain—­because me and my father? Whānau we weren’t. Not in any real sense. “My family ended when my mother died cold and alone.” Hanging up before she could reply, I reached in my pocket for a cigarette.

“Shit.” I hadn’t smoked since university days, and even back then, I’d only been a social smoker, joining in at parties or with friends.

Leaning against the wall beside the front door, I exhaled and looked out at the main drive. I couldn’t see much from ­here—­just glimpses of movement. There were too many trees, too much bush. If I wanted an unimpeded view, I’d have to go upstairs to my room.

From my desk, I could watch the entire neighborhood, see every entry and exit. A few days ago, I’d seen buxom Mellie saunter over to the Dixons’ and emerge two hours later with ruffled hair and a flushed face. Both Paul and Margaret had waved ­good-­bye to her from the doorway.

The day prior to that, I’d watched through my ­night-­vision binoculars as tall and ­red-­haired Veda Fitzpatrick ran across the road in the dark to stuff something inside Mellie and Isaac’s letterbox.

Funny the things you saw when no one knew you could see them.

11

I didn’t move.

Soon, the curtain would fall on the day and end even my current limited visibility. Just another night. But this night would be the darkest of my life. No longer could I protect the little flame of hope that had existed inside me all these years.

“You’re my biggest treasure, Ari beta.” A kiss pressed to my cheek as she tucked me in when I was eight. “Bigger than any diamond your father could ever give me.”

“Ma?”

“Yes, Ari?”

“You won’t leave me if you go away, will you?”

“Kabhi nahi. I’d never leave you.”

A flash of white through the foliage, coming from near the front door of the house just down from ours to the right. I don’t know why but I moved down the drive and