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

old magnolia in full bloom, I took out my notebook and scribbled down the details of our conversation.

I underlined the word “stumbled” over and over.

What had happened inside my father’s house that caused my mother to stumble?

Flipping back through my notes, I saw my father had admitted to throwing a heavy tumbler at her. I ignored the fact I couldn’t remember that admission to focus on the actual information. Had it caught her ­full-­force, done a lot more damage than he was letting on?

Or had she simply been drunk? That was as strong a possibility as anything else, but she didn’t generally drink to excess at events. No, she liked to do that at home. Then she’d put on the ­sad-­sounding old ghazals and dance to their melancholy tones.

I could see her swaying to the music, a tumbler in hand and her hair a sultry waterfall. She’d been wearing a red satin robe only loosely tied at the waist, flashes of skin showing with each movement. I’d been young then, confused by the emotions that raged inside me. That confusion had never ended: I’d always been proud of having her for my mother and angry at the same time.

Notes done, I pulled out into the quiet street once more.

The more I learned about what had happened that night, the more I felt like I didn’t know anything. There were too many secrets, too many things I couldn’t ­remember … and too many whispers telling me I was a madman lost in his delusions.

Shanti watched me with worried eyes when I got home.

“How’s Pari?” I asked.

“She told me,” Shanti blurted out. “About the key to Elei’s house. It’s good, what you did. Thank you.”

“Pari handling it okay?”

“Yes, she had many questions. I told her the truth, that Cora was hurting Alice and that it’s right that you called the police.” She twisted the dish towel in her hands. “It’s modern thinking, but I don’t ever want to see my daughter end up beaten like that. Not even to save the family from shame.”

I’d already made sure my sister knew that should anyone ever hurt her in any way, she was to come straight to me. I would always believe and help her. But this was a big step for Shanti. “She was great last ­night—­you should be proud.”

Shanti’s smile was brilliant. “I am.”

“I’ll swing by her room, say hi.”

“Do you want a Coke? A snack?” She was already bustling around. “I can fry up a plate of samosas. I made some fresh the other day and froze them so they’d be ready to fry anytime.”

“Yes, thanks.” I was ravenous, as if my hunger had returned with the lifting of the fog in my brain.

Be careful, Aarav. You might be most at risk when you believe you’re thinking clearly.

“Shanti?”

She glanced up from the freezer. “Yes?”

“Do I seem better to you? More mentally present?” Shanti alone, of all the adults in the Cul-­de-­Sac, had no reason to lie to ­me—­except, of course, for her loyalty to my father. But seeing as Ishaan Rai in no way treated his wife as a partner, she was unlikely to know enough to have a reason to lie.

“Yes.” Her smile brightened her whole face. “You’re here, ­not … far away.”

The knots in my back melted. “Thank you.”

“Go see Pari. I’ll bring up your snacks.” An intent look. “You’re a good brother, Aarav. Thank you for never making her feel lesser, even though you’re the elder son.”

I never knew what to say to patriarchal shit like that, so I just smiled and headed upstairs to the corner of the house opposite my suite. My sister had a single room because Shanti didn’t believe in spoiling a small child with an expansive suite. But that room was full of white and pink with splashes of Pari’s favorite yellow, a collection of stuffed animals lined up neatly on her bed. She was coloring at her desk when I entered.

“Bhaiya, you’re walking better!”

Only then did I realize I’d been putting more weight on my injured foot. “Maybe I can get this boot off soon and actually wash my leg.”

“Ew.” She screwed up her nose, but smiled as I took a seat on the edge of her bed; her duvet cover was a ruffled pink printed with woodland creatures.

“You want to talk about last night?” I asked. “Pretty scary time.”

Shanti came in halfway through our talk with Coke for me, and a hot cocoa for Pari, as well as the samosas, but then left us alone. It was as I was finishing off my second samosa that our conversation wandered onto other subjects.

School. Pari’s favorite band. Mia’s birthday.

“I’m not sad,” Pari reassured me. “About the sleepover. I know it’s for big girls, and Mia’s gonna come have cake with me. Mum helped me choose a present for her.” She took a sip of cocoa before making a hopeful face. “Do you think I can have a sleepover when I’m sixteen?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Leaving her to her coloring twenty minutes later, I was on my way to my room when Shanti called up. “Aarav! The police have come.”

I got myself down the stairs to find Regan and Neri waiting in the hallway, while Shanti hovered.

“If we could have some of your time,” Regan began, the pockmarks on his skin highlighted by the small chandelier that lit this part of the house.

“Sure. You want to sit down?”

“Actually, we’d prefer it if you accompanied us to the station.”

51

I ignored Shanti’s gasp.

“Seriously?”

“It’d be good to get your statement on record.”

Horse. Shit. Cops thought they had something, and wanted to go at me on their own turf. But I also wanted to know what they had. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

No outward reaction, but I wondered if they’d made a personal appearance in order to gauge my reaction to being asked to come in. Once in my sedan, I contacted the lawyer I used for conveyancing and other civil stuff.

I had Wendy’s private ­after-­hours number