Quiet in Her Bones by Singh, Nalini (mobi reader .txt) 📕

flowers dormant for the winter. It was Alice’s mother who was wearing ­red—­a big puffy jacket that all but encompassed her.

“Elei.” Shanti laughed. “It’s not that cold!” She hurried over to the bench to take a seat next to the other woman.

At Elei’s feet sat a pristine white poodle. Princess, Alice’s pampered pooch. She was probably more groomed and polished than most people you’d meet, and had a sweet nature. No guard dog was Princess. Neither did she bark much.

She must’ve been at doggie daycare that time I went over to Alice’s.

The dog came over to nuzzle at me after I sat down in a wooden chair facing the two women. The chair was old and weathered but clean of moss. A small side table in a similar condition sat beside the bench seat occupied by Elei and Shanti; on it rested a mug of something. Coffee, maybe. I thought I could catch the faint hint of a rich scent.

“Hello, Princess.” I petted the curious poodle as she examined my moon boot. Alice’s dog liked ­me—­I’d met her several times when Cora took her out for her evening walk on the days Alice was working the late shift.

Princess didn’t like Cora, but you’d have to be a dog person to pick that up. I’d never been allowed a dog as a child, but I’d get one after this was all done. Sell the apartment and buy a place with a lawn and be a normal guy with a dog.

Princess settled her warmth at my feet as I settled more deeply into my chair.

The tree was a dark spray of leaves and sparkling lights above me, but I could still see the stars off to the left, shards of diamonds in the ­blue-­black. Cora, tall and thin, moved inside the house’s kitchen, but it was peaceful here. No car noise, nothing but the singing of the odd cicada who’d fallen out of rhythm with the seasons.

I’d sat with my mother in our own garden on a night like this once. She’d made us cocoa using pure, rich cocoa powder, dried milk, and sugar. “It’s better from scratch,” she’d said. “Isn’t it nicer than the hot chocolate mix?”

“Yeah.” Because she’d made it, and because we were sitting in the garden side by side looking at the stars. I’d pointed out constellations I’d learned about in school, and she’d smiled, asked me questions.

It had been a perfect quiet night.

“Elei.” Shanti’s voice murmuring in the night. “Aarav wants to ask you some questions.”

The older lady stared at me, her eyes dark and knowing and her ­steel-­colored hair pushed back by a black headband. The darkness gave shadows to her cheeks, a whispered illusion of the young woman she’d once been. “About her.” She waved in the direction of the Cul-­de-­Sac ­drive … where my mother’s Jaguar had been parked that night.

28

“My mother. Yes.”

Elei drank a little of her coffee before digging into her pocket and coming up with a packet of sweets, which she offered first to Shanti, then to me. I took a piece of the sugared jelly candy, allowing the flavor of limes to burst on my tongue.

“What you want know?” Elei said afterward, her broken English heavi­ly accented but understandable.

“Did you see my mother the night she vanished?”

Lines furrowing her forehead. “Gone night?”

“Yes. The night she left.”

“Big rain,” she said. “Light.” She pointed up.

The lightning had cracked the sky that night, flashing against my irises and making the water on the street in front of me glow. The rain had hit with hard, slicing bites that turned my skin to ice and the road had been so slick, so difficult ­to—­

“Aarav.”

Jerking my attention to Elei, I knew I’d missed something. “I’m sorry.”

Her face softened and she leaned forward to pat my knee. “You love pretty mama.”

My hand clenched on the top of the cane. “Did you see her leave that night?”

“Green car.” She pointed to the street, then frowned. “I no see. I …” She tapped her ear.

“You heard something?”

“Door of car.” She held up two fingers.

I forgot the throbbing pain in my foot, ignored the random mishmash of memories my brain was throwing at me. “You heard two car doors shut.”

A firm nod. “Two. Yes. Fast fast. Close, then close.”

That eliminated the theory that my mother had picked up someone along the way; she’d left the Cul-­de-­Sac with the person who’d killed her. It’d be pushing things far beyond the bounds of probability that she’d left with one person and been killed by a second. No, it had to have been the same person.

My father? The lover with whom she’d taunted my father? Hemi? Brett? An unknown party?

“You didn’t see anything?”

The slightest flicker in her eyes before she shook her head. “No. Rain bad.”

Either she was lying, or she was nervous about something else connected to that night. Covering for Alice? Yet Alice had no reason to have hurt my mother. She’d been happy to tag along with the Nina/Diana duo.

I’d also never seen my mother be mean to Alice.

“I don’t kick puppies and kittens, sweetheart.” Husky laughter drifting up from below my balcony.

I’d been lying in the sun while messaging a school friend who was now a lecturer specializing in chemistry, while my mother and Alice sat below, chatting over a cup of tea.

“You don’t have to hide yourself from me, little Alice.”

“You’re out of my league.” Alice’s soprano tones. “I feel like I’m playing with a shark each time we have drinks.”

My mother had laughed then, unfettered and joyous, and I’d grinned before going back inside my room. At fifteen, I’d had no desire to listen to my mother talking with her neighbor friend. But I’d known her well enough to know the affection in her tone had been real; she’d liked her “little Alice,” had treated her well.

But there was something there.

The thought spun around and around in my head as I headed back into the house, leaving Shanti still talking with Elei. Grabbing my pain