Page 21 of The Mother-in-Law

Jones flicks open a black notebook embossed with a gold police logo and holds her pen poised. ‘And can you tell me who her doctor was?’

‘Her GP was Dr Paisley,’ I say. ‘At the Bayside Medical Clinic.’

‘And her oncologist?’

Everyone looks at me. Everyone including Ollie. ‘Actually . . . I’m not sure. She never mentioned her oncologist’s name to me.’

Jones closes her book. I get the feeling this isn’t news to her. ‘I see.’

Ollie blinks. ‘What do you see?’

‘Yes, what do you see?’ I echo.

‘We haven’t found any evidence of your mother’s cancer. There is no record of her visiting an oncologist. No mammograms or ultrasounds, no chemotherapy. As far as we can see, she didn’t have cancer at all.’

Jones seems irritated by this, as though their incompetence is somehowourfault. ‘Well obviously you haven’t looked in the right place,’ I say. ‘You can’t have checked with every doctor—’

‘There’s no referral from Dr Paisley,’ Jones tells us calmly. Her elbows rest on her knees, her hands are clasped together. ‘There are no scans or blood test results or anything that might indicate cancer.’

I feel my face screw up. This is just ridiculous. People didn’t say they had cancer if they didn’t. Or perhapssomepeople did, people with hypochondria or Munchausen’s, those who wanted to garner sympathy or money or friendship. But Diana hated sympathy and she certainly didn’t need money. As for friendship, she hated people fussing around her or offering her so much as a tissue. Diana wouldneversay she had cancer if she didn’t. I’m as sure of this as I am of my very existence.

And yet.

‘A problem with the system,’ Ollie says. ‘That must be it. Why would she say she had cancer if she didn’t?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to figure out.’

Ollie shakes his head. ‘But she committedsuicide. That’s whatyou guyssaid.’

‘We don’t know that for sure.’

Now Ollie seems to snap to attention. ‘But . . . you said there was a letter?’

‘Therewasa letter.’

‘Can we read it?’

‘Eventually. But it’s currently part of our investigation.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘We’re checking it for fingerprints. Doing a handwriting analysis.’

‘You think it wasforged?’

‘We’re not going to make any judgments until we know more.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Ollie says, standing up. He begins to pace. ‘Just ridiculous.’

‘Listen, thereisevidence to suggest she committed suicide. The materials. The letter we found in her desk.’

I blink. ‘Herdesk?’

‘Mummy, I hungy.’

Everyone glances in the direction of the voice. Edie is standing at the back door. Jones and Housseini rise to their feet.

‘Who you?’ Edie asks, walking right up to Jones, not stopping until she’s practically between her thighs.