Free A Bali Conspiracy Most Foul by Shamini Flint Page A

deck protruding into the garden with a few tables and chairs and green umbrellas for shade. Sarah led them to one, pulled out a heavy wooden chair with difficulty and sat down. She faced them squarely but there was an unblinking quality to her stare that suggested fear.
    Too much fear, wondered Singh. After all, the odds were that the disappearance of a man at the same time as a major terrorist attack was not a coincidence. Surely she must be prepared for the most likely explanation for his absence.

    â€˜He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Sarah Crouch seemed unable to bear the silence from the police officers.
    Bronwyn sat down opposite her and leaned forward sympathetically. ‘I’m afraid so.’
    Singh watched the widow carefully. She seemed composed.
    She asked, ‘Was it the bombs?’
    Singh nodded curtly. It was not strictly true but he wanted to observe this faded creature before showing his whole hand.
    She sighed. ‘I guess I knew. Richard would have contacted me if he was all right. I just thought … hoped, he might have been one of the survivors.’ She paused and glanced at them. ‘But deep down I knew that he wasn’t.’
    â€˜How did you know?’ asked Singh, more sharply than he intended.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜How did you know he was unlikely to be wandering around with amnesia or something like that?’
    Singh noted Bronwyn staring at him in the periphery of his vision but he did not take his eyes off the widow.
    Sarah said, ‘I visited all the hospitals – they let me in to see the injured – those who had not been identified. Actually, it was such chaos that no one stopped me when I walked through the wards looking for Richard.’
    Her eyes went dark. ‘I’ll never forget. There weren’t enough doctors, medicines, anaesthetics. There were desperate family everywhere, checking the living before the dead.’
    She dragged herself away from the memory of the victims. ‘He wasn’t there. Richard wasn’t there.’
    Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then she said, ‘But now I guess you’ve found him?’
    Singh relented. He said, ‘Yes, the body of Richard Crouch has been identified from dental records.’

    She nodded. ‘They asked me to get those from the UK. Richard had quite a lot of dental work done when he was a kid. He was still afraid of the dentist. I used to laugh at him about it.’ She smiled at the memory, revealing small even white teeth of her own.
    Singh wondered whether it demonstrated a heartless streak – to laugh at a husband’s fear of dentists. He knew he was grasping at straws, trying to find something in this woman that might demonstrate a capacity for murder.
    Sarah asked, ‘Will they release the body for burial?’
    Bronwyn said apologetically – Singh thought that she was the sort of woman who would always be apologising for things that were outside her control – ‘There’s not much left of him, I’m afraid.’
    Singh added, ‘The body won’t be released for a while yet.’
    The widow asked, ‘Why? I read in the papers that bodies are being shipped back to Australia. The Balinese have held a few funerals as well!’
    â€˜There are reasons,’ said Singh non-committally.
    â€˜Reasons? I’ve been sitting on this island for ages waiting for news.’ Her voice broke and she started to sob. ‘I’m running out of money!’
    Singh said, apparently oblivious to the sudden breakdown, ‘We’d prefer it if you didn’t leave the country.’
    â€˜Me? Why?’
    â€˜Because you’re a suspect in a murder investigation.’
    â€˜What? You think I’m a terrorist? Are you mad?’
    Bronwyn broke the news. ‘Richard Crouch was murdered. He didn’t die in the bombings.’
    Sarah looked blank.
    Bronwyn said patiently, ‘Your husband was killed,