Quiet in Her Bones Singh, Nalini (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) đ
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Book online «Quiet in Her Bones Singh, Nalini (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) đ». Author Singh, Nalini
As if the car had gone headfirst down the steep bank and hit with force. Turning a sleek rifle into a Âsnub-Ânosed revolver.
âDid the airbags deploy?â I asked.
âSigns are that all safety features worked as intended.â
So it was possible my mother had survived the impact only to die alone and cold while rain pounded down on the metal of the car and lightning cracked the Âpitch-Âblack sky. If sheâd been alive at all when the car slid down the bank. Because Iâd heard the front door slam twice. And the house had gone silent in the aftermath.
âWeâll have more news Âonce âŠâ Neri hesitated. âThereâll be a comprehensive examination.â
Ten years was a long time for evidence to age and fade. For flesh to disappear. For everyone to forget that Nina Parvati Rai had been a living, breathing woman whoâd loved music and cooking and had a mind like a computer.
In another life, she couldâve been a professor.
In this life, sheâd been a rich manâs wife.
Now, she was just bones.
The car trembled as it was wrenched from the arms of the forest. Dirt clumped the undercarriage and the doors were sealed with police tape to ensure they wouldnât accidentally open. The forensic people mustâve already processed those areas.
As I stared at the driverâs-Âside door, it struck me that there was one question I simply hadnât thought to ask. âWas she in the driverâs seat?â
Detective Regan had never actually said that.
Neri had a good poker face, but she hadnât expected the question. The answer was there in the flicker of her eyelashes before she regained control. âYouâll be fully briefed once we conclude our inquiries.â
My mother hadnât been in the driverâs seat.
Someone else had been in the car that night. And the police knew it. The whiskey bottle, the ring, the rest of what theyâd shared, those were nothing but pieces of the truth meant to lull us into cooperation while they undertook a murder Âinvestigation ⊠one that almost certainly had Ninaâs husband and son in the crosshairs.
The car swung wildly right then, and for a moment, I thought the Jaguar would smash to the forest floor, just as my mother had done all those years ago.
Constable Neri gave me a ride home, but I asked to be dropped off about a Âtwenty-Âminute walk from the house. Ten minutes for a man with two fully functional legs.
Neri glanced at my booted leg. âYou sure thatâs wise?â
âI need time to process and I canât do that in a house with my father. You saw him.â
Sharp, dark eyes. âNot a happy marriage.â
âInterrogate me later, Constable.â It came out hard. âIâll tell you everything you want to know. Today, let me grieve.â
No shame in her expression, nothing but an acute alertness that was a warning. Iâd have to be careful around her and her boss both. She wasnât, I judged, the type to fall for a bit of superficial charm wrapped up in the smell of money. Neither would I be able to blind her or her senior partner with my âjust a writerâ routine.
Iâd have to think harder, be smarter, in order to stay on top of the investigation.
âYou appreciate that this will be a complicated process,â she said. âWeâll need your cooperation.â
âDid you find the money?â A quarter of a million dollars gone from my fatherâs safe. Stacks of Âhundred-Âdollar bills heâd kept as insurance against some unforeseen event. He still did the same thing. Iâd figured out the combination to the safe years ago, even though heâd replaced the entire system after my motherâs disappearance. My father wasnât a terribly imaginative ÂmanâÂnot in certain ways.
Constable Neri gave me a blank stare. âAs Iâve made clear, we canât disclose evidentiary findings.â
âYou didnât find it.â It was a guess, Neriâs poker face back in place, but what were the chances youâd murder a woman only to leave behind a huge stash of cash that no one could trace? Zero. âYou know where Iâll be if you want to talk.â
Getting out of the vehicle, I braced myself on the top, then moved across to the back Âpassenger-Âside door. Neri said nothing as I pulled out my crutches before shutting the door. She didnât do a U-Âturn until Iâd walked up the road and was clearly visible.
The engine noise soon faded, leaving me cocooned in a hushed silence.
All these trees, all the green, it was why properties here were so coveted. Titirangi homes didnât reach the Âeye-Âwatering prices of the mansions in Herne Bay, or the sprawling estates in the South Island, but the rich who built their homes here preferred privacy above all else.
Rarely did the streets that snaked through the WaitÄkere Ranges Regional Park ever come up in those articles about New Zealandâs wealthiest streets. That was because the wealth here was hidden behind a shield of green, and spread out over a considerable distance. No one knew of the stunning architectural homes built deep in the trees until those homes went up for sale. Most were lone sparks in the wild, the Cul-Âde-ÂSac with its cluster of quiet wealth concealed by a long drive, a rare breed.
My mother had been the flashiest member of the enclave.
I stared down Scenic Drive. Not so far in the distance lay the pounding surf of Piha, where the water had no mercy and the black sands burned under the summer sun. That sun had faded what felt like months ago, the sky sullen and resentful today. As my fatherâs expression had no doubt become on the drive home.
Nina, once again wrecking Ishaanâs perfect life.
The first time Iâd woken that night, itâd been because of his voice. Tired from a day of running in preparation for the Âhalf-Âmarathon I planned to complete in a month, Iâd groaned and put my head under a pillow.
âYouâre a whore!â My fatherâs voice, thunder smashing into my brain.
âOh, thatâs rich coming from you! Have
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