had, without anticipating the outcome of his actions, humiliated her in front of her family? Family was important to Usha Pramal, and though it seemed she took pleasure in upsetting the familial status quo with her mercurial manner, there was a line she would not cross. And though she wanted to return to her beloved country, she remained. Was it only to gather more money with which to make her dream of establishing a school for girls from poor families come to fruition, or was something else keeping her in London? Did she feel responsible for Maya to the extent that she would stay? Yes, Maisie thought she would; from what she understood of Usha, she was kind in that way.
Maisie watched as two women walked past pushing prams, their babies sitting up against mounds of pillows, reaching out to each other and chuckling in the sunshine. The innocence of the scene led her to wonder again who had the skill to take the life of two women, both of whom unwittingly wore the perfect target that would allow someone to kill with precision. And who had the necessary moral and emotional bankruptcy to do such a thing?
Threads, threads, threads and not one leading to a viable picture in her mind of who could have killed Usha Pramal, and why. She was frustrated by her lack of insight. Perhaps she had not paid enough attention to Maya Patel. She asked herself again: What did Maya Patel know that could have led to her death? Was it simply because she was an Indian woman? If so, then the police did well to remove the other ayahs from the Paiges’ house. But Maisie didn’t think it was so. Maya Patel demanded more attention. It occurred to her that the missing link was someone not known to her—yet. But a new plan was forming in her mind.
Big Ben rang the hour in the distance. It was now two o’clock in the afternoon. She had time to collect the MG, drive to Camberwell, and, if they were there, visit the Paiges just one more time—assuming they would see her. She knew she was testing their patience. And afterwards, before the sun set, she would, she hoped, have time to stroll across the common land where a young man might be sleeping rough. Would she visit Reverend Griffith? Perhaps. She wasn’t at all sure about the respected man of the cloth, and whether she should wait to pay another call when she had more information to hand. The image of bound elephant hair kept coming to mind. She did not care for the clumsy knotting of an animal’s hair, and she wondered if that was a prejudice, a valuable clue, or intuition. But she felt the esteemed reverend might worship more gods than just the One.
Maisie parked the car across the road from the Paiges’ home, went to the front door, and knocked. Soon heavy footsteps could be heard approaching; it was Mr. Paige who answered.
“Oh, not you again.”
“Mr. Paige, I am afraid it is me, and I beg your pardon for dropping in without notice once more, but I was not far from here, and I thought you might be able to help me.”
The man made no move to invite Maisie inside the house.
“I suppose we can speak here just as well as anywhere.” Maisie looked back and forth down the road. “No neighbors seem to be walking this way, though I am sure I saw a few curtains twitching.”
Paige’s face darkened. “Come in, then.” He closed the door behind him and led Maisie into the parlor. “My wife isn’t here—she’s doing flowers for the church this afternoon—she likes to make sure it looks welcoming for Friday evensong.”
“Tell me, the Reverend Griffith’s church isn’t C of E, is it? Nor is it Baptist or Methodist—though I see you use the old community rooms, but he doesn’t seem very much of that type of minister.”
“No, you’re right. We just refer to ourselves as ‘the Church of a Greater God.’ I’m not sure where the Reverend Griffith gained his theological credentials, but he is a most caring vicar, of that I am sure—and he fills our church with goodness.”
“Of course, yes. I’m sure he does.” Maisie paused, putting the information about Griffith to one side in her mind, as if moving a saucepan to another burner on the stove—it was not to be forgotten, but could simmer while her focus was on the main reason for