A Private Business: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery by Barbara Nadel

Author:Barbara Nadel
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Recent July 2014, Crime
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2012-07-04T23:00:00+00:00

XVII

The front door was not only unlocked, it was open. Given Maria Peters’ nervousness as well as the number of burglaries that took place in the borough, that was worrying. Mumtaz took her phone out of her handbag and plugged in 999 just in case she had to call the police. She walked into the large entrance hall and called the woman’s name, but she didn’t reply. There was a strange, fusty and yet acidic smell to the place that she hadn’t noticed before. Walking slowly, her ears straining to capture all and any noises that may come her way, Mumtaz moved into the living room. It was empty. She came out again and went into the little corridor that led past a row of cupboards and a bathroom into the kitchen. The door was open and opposite it, slumped down against the door frame was Maria. She was wet, covered in what looked like glass and she was looking fixedly at the kitchen door or rather at something hanging from the handle of the door. It took Mumtaz a moment or two to actually register the noose.

She squatted down beside the comedian and took one of her hands. She was cold and, now that she was closer to her, Mumtaz could see that the liquid she was covered in was milk. She had also, by the smell of her, wet herself. She wanted to ask her what was going on, what had happened and why, but Mumtaz knew that Maria would not be able to talk. Other things would have to be done before that was going to be possible.

‘I’m going to get you a blanket and then I think a drink of some sort,’ Mumtaz said.

Maria Peters couldn’t even move but her eyes looked as if they agreed with that plan. Mumtaz went upstairs to one of the many bedrooms and pulled a duvet off one of the many beds. She went back downstairs and carefully moving as much broken glass to one side as she could, she wrapped the duvet around Maria’s shoulders. Now all she had to find was a drink, and by drink, she meant alcohol. Maria Peters wasn’t a Muslim, so what she was about to do wasn’t a sin. She went back into the living room and grabbed the decanter she’d seen Maria drink something or other from before. She took it into the kitchen, poured a large amount into a glass and held it up to Maria’s lips. ‘Drink.’

The woman looked at her with both growing recognition and apparent astonishment.

‘I can give you alcohol,’ Mumtaz said. ‘Don’t worry, just drink.’

The port felt good and warming, even if she spilled much of it out from the sides of her mouth. She saw Mumtaz smile and thought again how beautiful she was.

Once Maria had managed to swallow a couple of mouthfuls of alcohol, Mumtaz put the rest of the port down beside her and stood up. ‘I’m just going to clear up some more of this broken glass so that you can stand up,’ she said.

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