Home > Books > Something to Hide(Inspector Lynley #21)(261)

Something to Hide(Inspector Lynley #21)(261)

Author:Elizabeth George

“Then why not finish her off? She’s a doctor, after all. She’d check for vital signs, wouldn’t she?”

And here they were, at the tricky part. Barbara hated what she had to tell him.

NEW END SQUARE

HAMPSTEAD

NORTH LONDON

“You knew she was hurt,” Nkata said to Rosie. They’d gone outside, into the large garden at the front of the house. He’d led her down the steps from the porch, beneath the massive wisteria vine, and along a path that edged the lawn. Midway was a weathered teak bench spotted with lichen and growing grey moss. He’d gestured to it and she’d sat cooperatively. So had he. “The sculpture was on the floor, and she was unconscious, and tha’s how you let her stay.”

Rosie met his gaze with her own although she didn’t reply.

He said, “What I can’t work out is why you di’n’t ring 999.”

She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d brought a copy of the shot they had from the digital film, catching her as she exited the building. He said, “I ’xpect you know what night this was taken.”

She took it from him and examined it. She said, “I don’t, actually. Why don’t you tell me?”

“The night she got the cosh on her head is when. Tha’s when this was taken. DS Havers—you met her already—she’s taking a copy of this round the flats in Streatham. Tha’s just a formality, though. You were there and you saw her on the floor.”

“If she was unconscious, isn’t that going to be difficult for you to prove?”

“Would’ve been,” he admitted. “But happens Teo wasn’t alone. The woman who coshed her with the sculpture was still in the flat.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re trying to—”

“She heard you knock, Rosie. Then she heard the door. Then she heard you come in, but by then she’d got herself into the bedroom and hidden herself. She heard you come upon Teo and then she heard you say her name, couple of times this was. What she di’n’t hear was a call being made to 999. What she di’n’t hear was you doing anything at all to help your sister. What she did hear was you leaving. Which is wha’ she did herself soon ’s you were safely gone, cos she di’n’t want to risk someone else walking in on her.”

“Even if I did that, even if I left Teo where she was, it wasn’t a crime.”

“Not coming to someone’s aid? You’ve got tha’ right, you do. I’s not a crime, that. But I got to say it takes a special kind of person to leave someone—an’ a sibling at that—like you did. It makes me wonder what you were . . . I dunno . . . afraid of? I got guesses but not much more ’nless you tell me.”

Rosie looked away from him then. She raised her hand to acknowledge the greeting of another inhabitant of New End Square. She finally said, “She was going to have him back. How d’you think that felt?”

“You’re speakin’ of Ross Carver?”

“Who else?”

“An’ how did you know this? She tell you ’s much?”

“I could tell.”

“From her?”

“From Ross. She texted him that she wanted to speak to him and I could see everything on his face. I could see that the moment she crooked her finger, he would go to her and that was how it would always be. She knew I was pregnant by him, and she was intending to destroy my life. So yes, when I saw her on the floor, I left her there and allowed fate to decide things.”

“You got lucky, then, di’n’t you? Very badly wrong is what it was and the luckiest part of all for you was that Ross Carver di’n’t understand what was happening to Teo cause she came round when he found her. ’Nstead of calling emergency, he helped her to bed. An’ the rest is the rest.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Rosie said. “I didn’t even touch her.” She reached for his hand and covered it with her own. “I didn’t want her to die. How could I have done? She was my sister.” Her voice quavered and he reckoned her eyes were about to drop tears down her cheeks and onto her coverall. He found that he felt stony at this. He didn’t like what this said about him: that someone’s anguish did not touch him.

Then she cleared his conscience with a single question, “You won’t tell my parents what I did, will you?” and he knew that the quaver in her voice and the tears in her eyes were part and parcel of the performance art at which she so excelled.