“Or she got herself bashed before she could make any plans,” Havers added.
“There’s that ’s well.” Winston went on to list other details he’d had off the computer tech. “She did internet searches, like most of us. In her case, she’s gone everywhere from potential spots for holidays—Iceland and Antarctica’re both high on her list—to looking for bonsai information websites. There’s also a search for anti-FGM sites and anti-FGM groups, as well as a look for genital repair. That one took her to France to the website of a bloke called Ignace Severin, but it was all in French. She also did a search for Philippa Weatherall.”
Havers said, “Makes sense, that, if she was thinking about going under the knife.”
“What have we uncovered about Mercy Hart?” Lynley asked the detective constables.
One of the women replied with, “The local station rang this morning, guv. She still lives at the address in Stratford. I told them someone from the Met would be coming onto their patch to speak with her.”
“Seems to me,” another of the constables said, “that if anyone has a motive, it’s this one. Teo Bontempi closed down her livelihood.”
“But she can easily open another clinic in another part of town,” Havers pointed out, and with a gesture towards Lynley, “She’s put everything into storage. We got that much from the removal blokes. All she has to do is move all that lumber to a new space when things cool off.”
“Right,” Nkata said. “But you ask me, Barb, tha’s an even better motive, innit. Teo Bontempi’s shut her down once and there’s nothing to stop her from shutting her down another time. And a time after that. And ’less Monifa Bankole’s willing to sign a statement ’bout what was really going on in that place, Mercy’s in the clear.”
“Aren’t you working your magic charm on her?”
“Tha’ spreads only so far, Barb.”
“We may have something to move her,” Lynley noted. “I’ll get onto that later. Meantime . . .”
He gave them their assignments: Havers to have a go at Rosie Bontempi, he and Nkata to search out Mercy Hart in Stratford, the others to divide up the responsibility for locating the site of Mercy Hart’s storage from the removals men, tracking down whatever paperwork there might be on the first property where the clinic was located, and combing through Teo Bontempi’s medical file to see if anything might be out of order there.
“No one,” he said, “is in the clear.”
CHELSEA
SOUTH-WEST LONDON
As long as treats were involved, Peach was perfectly content to sit at Deborah’s feet and stay there, despite this involving the dachshund’s removal from the kitchen and thus from the potential of bacon somehow falling to the floor. But since the dog also never said no to cheese—the more malodorous the better—Deborah seduced her with fingertips of brie and Peach was content to sit obediently, as well as expectantly, with her. They were on the stairs, waiting just outside of Deborah’s childhood bedroom. Simisola Bankole was within, having finally fallen asleep while Deborah read to her a fourth fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm, suitably edited to remove the . . . well . . . the grim bits.
Getting both of the Bankoles under her protection hadn’t been accomplished easily, not only because Zawadi did not want them put into the care of a white family but also because Tani had not wanted to be under anyone’s protection at all. The only reason Zawadi was finally willing to entertain the idea of Deborah was the intervention of Narissa, who had said impatiently, “See reason, Zawadi. If there’s room in Deborah’s house, it makes sense they should go with her.”
When Zawadi said nothing, Deborah told her, “Only three of us live in the house just now, and we’ve two spare bedrooms that my husband’s family use when they come to town. But no one’s coming to town in this weather, and we’re just rattling round the place.”
Zawadi said, “You have told us your father and your husband cannot be trusted. I won’t put these children into the care of—”
“You have no worries there,” Deborah cut in quickly. “They’ll take one look at Tani and, believe me, they’ll be straight on board.” She added that while the girl, Sophie, could return to her home, the Bankoles could hardly return to theirs, and since Zawadi herself had declared there were no families available . . .
Tani said at that point that he had no need for accommodation anywhere because he intended to return to Mayville Estate. Zawadi declared this madness, as did Sophie. He was insistent about it, though, and it was only Simisola’s clinging to him like a barnacle that garnered his cooperation. She could not abide being separated from him, and who could blame her. She had to be with him, which turned out to be what moved Zawadi to agree to Deborah’s offering of shelter and protection for the Bankoles.