Free Death in Leamington by David Smith Page A

dogs and his granddaughter; believing his enemies and so-called friends to be half a world away.
    Although he had a large extended family, he counted only his granddaughter as close blood now. His parents were dead and he had no siblings or wife. He had nearly married once and he had fallen in love secretly many more times. His college days in the US were a history complicated by both male and female affairs. His adopted daughter had been an accident of one of those romantic interludes. Her mother was a renowned cellist who had played like an angel but had taken fright at the thought of marrying into a dynasty. She had, instead, run off with one of his friends, even though she was already carrying Arish’s child. She died only a few days after the girl, his daughter, was born. On hearing the news, he had punished himself by carving a small letter
A
into his chest, the initial of his lover’s and his own name, a symbol that would remind him forever of his lost love. All he had of those days of romance now were her recordings – her Elgar cello concerto was still his favourite. At the time of her death, he had been broken hearted but on this one occasion had taken responsibility for the product of his loins and arranged for the child to join him in Colombo, rather than become a long-term burden on his friend. This same architect friend was the man of molten wax who was to visit him today.
    His daughter possessed courage, wit, and penetration. She had read much, and had an admirable memory; she never forgot anything she had read. At home, she had successfully applied herself to philosophy, medicine, history, and the liberal arts; and her poetry excelled the compositions of the best writers of her generation. Besides this, she was a perfect beauty, and all her accomplishments were crowned by solid virtue.

    Anon,
The Arabian Nights Entertainments

    In a bitter repeat of the earlier tragedy, his adopted daughter had also died in childbirth after an affair with an unknown employee. The sad cycle had continued as he had taken on the responsibility now of caring for her child, his granddaughter Nadia. This was no chore, he had watched with delight as Nadia grew up to be a precociously talented girl, clever and well-read as well as beautiful. But her ambition soon outgrew what she could find in her native city. Arish had therefore supported Nadia’s desire to study overseas and although she was certainly good enough in her own right to claim a place at any US grad school, he had made sure of her place at this lesser known English business school with a little endowment just to be sure. England was safer for a young girl than the US; he knew that from his own bitter experience. However, he had definitely not bargained for her falling in love with an English knight while she was studying here.
    The two of them had met first at a university event; Sir William Flyte, the guest of honour, Nadia invited to attend as a student representative to demonstrate the university’s commitment to diversity. This political knight was apparently bewitched by her right from the start as she held the whole table in her thrall with her eloquent arguments and rhetoric; she in turn was flattered by the close attention of one so powerful in this ennobled land. There had been a return invitation to his home and soon the relationship had become official, despite their considerable age difference.
    As soon as he found out about it, Arish had objected to this new association. He agreed however to meet her chosen suitor at his London club for dinner but took an instant dislike to him, finding him arrogant and far too old for her. He had his assistant do some research and was soon presented with a dismaying collection of distinctly seedy stories and articles about the former MP’s previous relationships. But something had clearly turned the girl’s head and before he had had time to intervene, he was informed that she had travelled with Sir William to the