Up in Flames by Geraldine Evans

passport to heaven.’ Shazia paused. ‘You can see how a woman would find it difficult to resist doing her ‘duty’. But when the British outlawed sati, instead of a quick death and glorification they gave widows a long lingering one and vilification. Many Indian widows don’t think it was a fair exchange.’ She gave a sad little smile. It held all the tragedy of India. ‘It is their karma, you see. Something to be accepted with stoicism. And so they do accept it, praying only for death and an end to their earthbound misery.’
                  Casey studied her thoughtfully for a moment before he nodded and turned back in his seat. Unaware of the streets they passed, he sat mute. Shazia Singh had certainly provided them with a few motives for murder. She had even made plain that suicide could indeed be a strong possibility.
                  Was it possible that Chandra had chosen the old custom? He frowned and stared unseeingly ahead. Then, before him, hovered the remembered image of Chandra’s photograph. He took the picture from his pocket and studied it again. And as her bold gaze, with its hint of challenge met his, he shook his head. Even lately, sad as her life had become, he felt a quiet certainty that given a choice, the girl in the photograph would choose life — however grim — over death. Hadn’t Angela Neerey claimed that Chandra had  been trying to plan her future? Besides, the vacuum flask with its petrol dregs which had been discarded in the alley behind her flat didn’t point to self-immolation. But neither, given that the husband’s funeral pyre would have been the clinical procedure at the local crematorium, did it indicate that she had been persuaded to do her traditional wifely ‘duty’.
                  It was, anyway, possible that the flask with its petrol dregs was nothing more than a coincidence or simply placed near the scene as a cruel joke. But even if the flask was dismissed Andy Simmonds’ remark and the lack of a logical reason for the fire starting where it had still pointed to arson. Confirmation or otherwise of that would have to wait for the forensic team. He hoped they would come up with some firm answers quickly.
                  Beside him, TomCatt, ever the cynic, was still keen to push his own suspicions. As he pulled up at the traffic lights, he glanced at Casey and said, ‘I still think we ought to check out the father’s finances. Discreetly, of course. Maybe they’re not as healthy as that expensive house would indicate. You noticed his car’s several years old?’ Casey nodded. ‘Maybe he couldn’t afford to find another dowry for Chandra and was merely going through the motions to stop his wife nagging him. Could be he decided the old ways with widows were the best for all concerned, himself, his daughter and the bank balance. And then there’s the insurance on the flat. He could have decided to have the place torched to free up some money, believing his daughter and the baby would be out.’
                  Embarrassed that Catt should be so insensitive in front of Shazia Singh, he asked quietly, ‘And did you see anything in the family garage to indicate such a possibility?’ 
                  ‘Not a lot,’ Catt admitted as the lights changed and he drove off. ‘But there were what appeared to be petrol stains on the floor. And there were some empty cans stacked in the corner.’
                  ‘Hardly conclusive. Maybe he had just stockpiled some cans in case there was another petrol shortage. I did the same. It’s a messy business decanting petrol into a car’s tank without a funnel. My garage floor’s stained, too.’
                  Strangely — for ThomCatt hadn’t gained the feline shortening of his given name by lacking a cat’s sharpness — he had nothing to say regarding the intriguing comment made by Chandra’s sister. What has Chandra