Blood Relative by David Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

rolled-up tabloid newspaper.
    ‘There you go,’ he said, handing it to me with a smirk. ‘Congratulations, you’re famous.’
    I found out what he meant, and why he’d been looking so pleased with himself, when I got to a double-page spread about ten pages in. ‘Designers to the stars in knife-death horror,’ read the headline. The paper had got hold of a picture taken at a big charity ball the previous year. It showed Mariana chatting to three football wives. Mariana was described as a ‘busty blonde stunner … the German-born golden girl every WAG turns to when she wants the perfect home.’ There was a much smaller picture of me, taken at the same event, looking smug in my dinner jacket and black tie as I shared a joke with a couple of Premiership managers. And inset into a panel, which had its own headline, ‘World of Football Shocked by Slaughter’, were shots of Joey and Michelle Norris and three more of the footballers we’d worked for. All, claimed the paper, were too upset by news of the tragedy to comment.
    More hours went by. In the afternoon Samira Khan appeared, dressed for work this time. She saw the newspaper lying on the bench beside me, raised an eyebrow and just said, ‘Ahh …’
    ‘How do they know all this?’ I asked, pointing at the spread.
    ‘There’s always someone in any police station who can’t wait to call up a newspaper and make easy money. I would say the police leak like sieves, except that they’re worse than that. A sieve has no choice in the matter. But some of these people do it deliberately.’
    I put the paper down and asked, ‘So what’s happened to Mariana?’
    ‘She was seen by a psychiatrist this morning. He determined she was not yet fit to be interviewed.’
    ‘So can I see her?’
    ‘I’m afraid the answer is no. But I am working with Mr Iqbal to see what will happen as and when you are released. It is a very delicate situation. On the one hand you are Mrs Crookham’s husband, so you should be allowed supervised visits. But on the other you are potentially an important witness in the case and so it is possible that the judge may forbid any contact between the two of you.’
    ‘But if she can’t even answer police questions, how could she say anything to me that would affect the case? I just want to see her, let her know that I’m thinking of her. Give her a hug. Is that so wrong?’
    Khan looked at me thoughtfully. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this,’ she said, ‘but I do not understand your attitude. Your wife is accused of murdering your brother. Yet all your sympathy seems to be for her. Surely your family, your blood, comes first?’
    ‘Well, yes, I suppose … but … what can I say? Andy’s gone. There’s nothing anyone can do for him. Meanwhile, Mariana’s being accused of killing him and no one seems to be thinking about any other possibility. But there has to be one. She couldn’t have done it …’
    ‘You have to face up to the facts,’ Khan said, so gently that I just brushed her words aside. I was still thinking about her question, trying to work out the answer for myself as much as for her.
    ‘I know this sounds terrible, but I maybe can live without Andy more easily than without Mariana,’ I said. ‘I mean, we had a pretty screwed-up family. My dad died young. My mum wasn’t the easiest woman in the world to live with. Still isn’t. We were, I don’t know … complicated.’
    ‘I think all families are pretty complicated in their different ways, don’t you?’
    ‘I suppose. But even so … do you know the worst thing of all? I haven’t cried for Andy. I mean, my brother is dead, and the truth is, I’m just not feeling it like I should.’
    ‘That is probably just shock,’ Khan said, resting a hand on my shoulder. ‘You have been through a very traumatic experience. It will take time for your mind to process everything. It’s natural.’
    ‘I hope so, because I feel pretty bloody heartless right now. All I