Gail ignores him. ‘But he was completely unresponsive. The custody officer thought Tomlinson was “pissing around” – his words, sir.’ She does the corresponding air quotes. ‘Then he realized Tomlinson wasn’t breathing. Tomlinson’s skin was still warm, so the officer raised the alarm and initiated CPR.’
‘Damn it! The paramedics were still trying to revive him when they got him into the ambulance,’ Ian says. ‘Perhaps there’s hope.’
Gail shrugs, as if to say,no sad loss, sir.
‘So what was it? Epilepsy?’
Gail shrugs again. ‘He didn’t mention any physical health problems when we brought him in and he wasn’t on medication for anything.’
‘Well, maybe that’ll get us off the hook. If he had a health problem he didn’t reveal. Or didn’t even know about. There will be an inquiry. An ombudsman.’
‘He hasn’t been declared dead yet, sir.’
‘For God’s sake, Gail. Call me “Ian”, will you?’ He sighs. ‘Sorry. I’m irritable. I’m trying to come off the fags.’
‘Good idea,Ian. And I’ll take irritable over smelly any day.’ And with that parting shot, she turns and struts out of the staffroom, coffee in hand.
Hmm. He deserved that, he supposes.
He heads for his office and tries to concentrate on his work. Tomlinson isn’t his problem. He has a mountain of paperwork. Boring, but not stressful. But he can’t banish Tomlinson from his mind.
His personal phone pings with a text from Carla, asking him to ring her when he gets a chance. He feels his eyebrows pull into a frown. Carla texted the other day to say Margo was home from hospital. What does she want? She usually only calls Jo.
He calls Carla back immediately.
Once they’ve got through the hello-and-how-are-you bit, she gets to the point. ‘Ian, I’m ringing because Margo had some symptoms that the doctors and nurses at the hospital couldn’t really explain,’ she says. ‘She was lethargic and dizzy, she complained of a headache and she couldn’t remember much of what had happened after she’d was given a can of Red Bull.’
Ian’s detective brain kicks in. ‘Could it have been spiked? Who gave her the can of Red Bull?’
He hears her exhale slowly. ‘That’s what I believe happened, yes.’
‘Who gave her the can of Red Bull?’ he repeats.
‘You’ll never guess,’ she says, her voice dripping with irony. ‘Jordan and Jasper Knoll.’
‘You’re shitting me.’
‘I wish I was.’
Carla tells him Margo’s urine test at the hospital was negative. She also tells him about storming round to demand answers from Yvonne Knoll and her sons and getting nowhere. ‘They were clearly lying through their perfect teeth, all of them,’ she says.
‘Carla, I believe you; I really do. I honestly wouldn’t put anything past those boys or that family. But if you’re ringing me for advice, I’m afraid I don’t have any for you. It’s your word against theirs. From the outside looking in, to a stranger, it sounds like Yvonne did you a favour, taking your stepdaughter to hospital because she seemed unwell.’
‘I understand,’ Carla says. He can hear her voice crack down the phone. ‘Thank you for your time, Ian. I’m sorry to disturb you at work.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Carla. I really am.’ Ian has a feeling he has said these exact words to her at least once before.
Ian told Ash about Tomlinson’s arrest and it was mentioned in the local news, although the suspect’s name wasn’t divulged, so Carla obviously knows about it. For a split second, Ian wishes he could fill her in on the latest to cheer her up or at least take her mind off Margo, but apart from the fact it would be wholly inappropriate and unprofessional, Tomlinson might still be alive. The chances are slim, granted, but stranger things have happened. And Ian’s not actually sure Tomlinson’s death (ifhe’s dead) is good news for the Ashfords. If Tomlinson’s guilty, then his death is very bad timing. One thing’s for sure, it would have been far better if they’d managed to wring a confession out of him (even a false one) before he collapsed on the floor of his cell.
After his conversation with Carla, it’s even harder to get back to his tedious administrative forms. At one point, Ian realizes he has been sitting, staring into space and smoking his pen, for at least five minutes.
His mind oscillates between Iris and Margo on the one hand and Tomlinson on the other. The more Ian thinks about it, the more convinced he is there’s a link between what happened to Iris and what happened to Margo. But Tomlinson can’t be it.
What Ian would like to know is where the Knolls fit into all this. Jordan and Jasper were smoking and trying to deal cannabis in front of his house, according to Ash. And now Carla thinks they spiked Margo’s drink with Rohypnol. There’s more to it. Ian’s sure of it.
Gail materializes at the open door to his office. ‘Thought you might like a coffee, Ian,’ she says, holding up a steaming cup in each hand.
Jo warned him to avoid coffee because it makes him want to smoke even more. Cigarettes and coffee, they go together. Can’t have one without the other. But, sure, he’s going to have the same problem with beer. You can’t give up coffee, beer and cigarettes on the same day. ‘You saint,’ he says.
