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Maya, 9.15 a.m.

I was at the hospital reception, still taking in the implications of Marta’s answer.

Dan was talking on his phone. ‘We’ll go straight there,’ he said into his receiver. ‘Tell him not to leave the premises.’ He ended the call. ‘Alexej has spoken to Artem Gudelis and arranged for us to interview him at his club. Shall we go?’

‘Where’s Rosa?’

‘She’s gone to her daughter’s. She got the consultant to discharge her. I managed to have a word with him about the state of the shop and the damp, and he knew about the dreams and her asthma, so he only agreed to let her go home if she promised to stay at Agnieszka’s for at least a week. I’ve just put her in a black cab.’

‘Phew. At least she’ll be safe there.’ We discussed recent developments as we walked towards the exit.

‘Ten weeks pregnant and Simas didn’t know? Jeez.’ Dan stared at me in disbelief. ‘Did Marta say why Indra hadn’t told him?’

‘Apparently, Simas was adamant he didn’t want children.’

‘Meaning what? Indra hoped he’d change his mind and was building up to telling him? She was waiting ’til she was past the three-month mark? Simas wasn’t the father?’

‘Marta swore she didn’t know why. All she said was she and Indra don’t discuss Simas any more.’

Dan tutted. ‘That’s convenient.’

‘Actually, I believe her. She clearly has a low opinion of her brother-in-law. Perhaps she found it easiest, and kindest, not to talk about him.’ Mum flashed through my mind. Had this been why she hadn’t wanted to talk about Dad?

‘I wonder what Artem will say about his brother’s philandering.’ Dan pulled a face. ‘I’d put money on two things. He’ll be on the defensive and he’ll take Simas’ side.’

At the exit, as the glass doors swung back, a swarm of reporters surged towards us, firing out questions and wanting their pound of flesh.

‘Inspector, is it true that the other person in the fire was a woman?’ asked one.

‘Keep walking,’ I hissed at Dan, blinking amidst the blinding flash lights.

‘Given the woman in the fire wasn’t the shopkeeper’s wife, who was it?’ another shouted.

‘Inspector, what precautions have you taken to keep the capital safe in the face of fears about copy-cat fires?’ It was Tony from the City Eye again.

Something slid round the back of my hair and ear. I turned to see a microphone below my chin, and it was then stuffed towards my mouth.

‘Can you confirm reports that a child was in the fire?’ The beefy hulk of a journo bellowed at me, practically spitting in my face.

Out of the Ashes: A DI Maya Rahman novel

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