Where Memories Lie by Deborah Crombie

back of her neck where it had gone damp from the heat, swirling bits of debris about her ankles.
    She rang the bell, and after a long wait, it was Kit rather than Erika who opened the door.
    “Hi,” he said, looking unusually pleased to see her, and her desire to scold him over not checking in vanished. “We were in the garden. I thought I heard the bell. I’ll make you something to drink if you want to go out.”
    There was more to his offer than manners. “Is everything all right?” Gemma asked, touching his shoulder briefly as they walked towards the kitchen.
    “Yes. But she’s waiting for you.”
    Taking the hint, she left him and went out through the French doors into the garden. Erika rose, a little slowly, from her seat at the garden table and came to meet her.
    “I thought it must be you,” she said, her expression anxious. “Did you find out—”
    But Gemma was already shaking her head. “I’m sorry, no. They won’t release any information about the seller. Their jewelry expert believes the piece is authentic, and they’re not required to give provenance. The expert is a man named Amir Khan.” Gemma pulled out a chair for herself as Erika sank back into hers. Kit had come out and set down a drink for her, then stepped back, listening quietly. “Thegirl who took the piece in—Kristin—might have told me more, but Khan came in and shut her up.”
    “Is there any point in you going back, having another word with her on her own?” asked Erika.
    Gemma shook her head. “I don’t think so. She’ll have been well warned. He—Mr. Khan—said that you’d have to get a lawyer. And that if it were a matter of proving that an item was looted by the Nazis, the case could drag on forever. I’m afraid he’s right,” she added gently. “You may have to let it—”
    “Oh, no,” broke in Erika, and the fire was back in her eyes. “I’ve let it go long enough. And it wasn’t the Nazis who stole the brooch from me.”
     
    Kristin fidgeted through dinner, earning a concerned glance from her mother and an irritated “Will you sit still, for heaven’s sake?” from her dad.
    When she did little more than push her food round her plate, her mum shook her head. “Kristin, you need to eat.”
    “I had lunch out.” It was an easy lie, so she embroidered. “With some mates from work. At Carluccio’s.” Right, she thought. Who exactly would she have gone to Carluccio’s with, even if she could afford it? Giles?
    Before her mother’s look of interest turned into questions about what she’d eaten, she said, “And I’m going out tonight. Just for a bit.” She glared at her dad, daring him to criticize. That was one of the worst things about being forced to live at home—her parents still treated her like a teenager, even though she was more than a year out of university.
    She’d never introduced them to Dom, nor told them anything about him. She could just imagine what her dad, a supervisor at Abbey Mills Pumping Station who had worked hard to put his only daughter through university, would have to say about a manwho lived on inherited money. That was grief she didn’t need.
    Her mobile rang. When she saw that it was Giles, she quickly pressed Ignore. Her father looked up from his pork chop, frowning. “I’ve told you not to bring that thing to the table.”
    But before Kristin could defend herself, the home phone rang. Her mum was closest and answered it, receiving a second scowl from her dad. “I thought we’d agreed. No phone calls during—”
    “It’s your friend Giles, darling,” her mother interrupted, smiling as she handed Kristin the phone.
    “Bugger,” Kristin muttered under her breath. Giles was already waffling on in her ear. “…wasn’t fair what Khan did to you today. Don’t know what gets into him, but I’m sure you didn’t deserve it.”
    “Thanks, Giles. That’s nice of you.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “But I have to—”
    “Thought you