our way, Miss Dobbs. So, as soon as her body is released to me by the authorities, Usha will be cremated. I will take her ashes back to India with me, and a ceremony will follow. It is most important that she is laid to rest in a proper way.”
“Of course.” Maisie nodded to Sandra, who was to take notes. “Now then, let’s get down to work. “We asked you some questions yesterday, but I feel it might have at first been difficult for you to speak in front of Detective Inspector Caldwell.”
“He is a prejudiced man. He does not like the color of my skin, the sound of my voice, or the fact that I know he has not done his job. So much for the illustrious Scotland Yard. He wants me on a ship. Gone. And with my sister poured into a glass jar, safely in my suitcase.”
Maisie looked at Pramal, and felt the power of his grief and anger.
“Major Pramal—”
“Miss Dobbs, as I pointed out yesterday, I am no longer a member of His Majesty’s Imperial Armies, so I do not deserve to be addressed as any sort of major. I do not seek to be known in this way. I have enough memories of the war, so would rather be the mister I was before I first came to this country.”
“Of course, Mr. Pramal. I also served in the war, so it is a habit of acknowledgment I am given to slipping into when I see medals worn with pride.” She paused, glancing at Billy. “But I understand the importance of leaving the past behind, and your reasons for wearing your medals in front of Caldwell.”
Maisie thought Pramal had an attractive face, with a hint of European expression, though he moved his head as he spoke with the light cadence of his fellow countrymen. His hair was neat and oiled, combed back with a parting to one side. His eyes were like his sister’s—the shape of almonds and the color of dark chocolate. His skin was clear, barely lined, yet his hands were the hands of one familiar with manual work. She imagined him overseeing construction, physically moving iron and brick, clambering over the site of a new dam or bridge, demonstrating to workers exactly how he wanted a job done. She saw him talking to his foreman, and never giving in to the urge to remove his jacket, or open his stiff collar and loosen a tie from its perfect position. It was as if he were intent on being the perfect King’s subject.
“It was clear from our conversation yesterday that you made a request for the case to be referred to me. I should have asked at the time, but—where did you hear of my services?”
“From Dr. Basil Khan. Of Hampstead. I knew of Dr. Khan from my great-uncle. They were young men together.”
“They were?” Maisie leaned forward. “I confess, I sometimes forget Khan was a doctor—I have only ever known him as ‘Khan.’ ”
Pramal smiled. “He is—as you probably know—from Ceylon; however, as far as I know, he came to Bombay in his youth. He was a medical doctor, but it was not his calling. Instead he went to live in the hills, in Sikkim. Then he went away, and it was years before anyone knew where he’d gone. All over the world, everyone said. My uncle is no longer with us, but I remembered his story, and that Dr. Khan now resided in Great Britain. So I came to him in my time of sadness. He told me that you would help me.” Pramal smiled.
“What is it?”
“He said that I must look beyond your youth. But you are not as young as I thought you would be.”
Maisie smiled. “I don’t know how to take that. To be fair, I was very young when I first met Khan—not yet fifteen years of age—so he probably still considers me a girl.”
“No, Miss Dobbs. He said you were a wise woman.”
Maisie blushed, opening the file she had collected from Caldwell. “I only hope I don’t disappoint you, Mr. Pramal. Now then—” She turned over a page. “Can we talk about Usha coming to England? She was a governess, and never employed as a maid, or a nurse to the children?”
“That is correct. There was already an ayah, who looked after a younger child and undertook general housekeeping, though she did not accompany the family to England. The Allisons were very well positioned, you know. They