Her grandparents were shaking their heads. ‘No. She didn’t.’
‘And you’re both feeling fine now?’ They looked fine, he thought. Stressed but fine. Emma’s illness had been dramatic. If they’d eaten the same thing they would have been ill by now.
‘We’re good.’
‘Then I want you to stay that way. There’s something that’s contaminated Emma and until we know what it is I want you out of your kitchen. I don’t want you to make so much as a cup of tea there before everything’s tested. I’ll ring Sergeant Packer and we’ll go through the kitchen first thing in the morning.’
‘She wouldn’t…’ Margy Crammond was becoming distressed. ‘She wouldn’t have eaten anything she shouldn’t. Sergeant Packer… The police… You’re not suggesting we poisoned her?’
‘I’m doing no such thing.’ Then, because it seemed the right thing to do-even though such a thing was unheard of in his professional life-he reached out and gave her a hug. ‘Sergeant Packer’s better at investigating than me. He’s trained to figure out unusual circumstances, which is the only reason I suggested I’d call in his help. By tomorrow Emma should be up to answering questions and we’ll sort out what happened in no time. But for now you should phone her parents and tell them she’s fine. Then go to bed. And don’t worry.’
He pulled back and lifted the old lady’s face so she was forced to meet his smile. ‘Can you do that?’
She nodded and gulped.
His father was watching with a strange expression on his face. ‘Do you want Daisy and me to stay awake and watch them-just in case they’re poisoned and it takes longer to take effect in adults?’ Joss’s father asked his question idly, as if it’d be no more than a mild inconvenience to stay up all night, and Joss thought, Yeah, he’d do that, too. He wore his heart on his sleeve did his father. He loved…
May Daisy live for ever. But if she didn’t…
Loss wouldn’t stop his father loving again, he thought. Loving was a part of the man he was.
And all of a sudden-for the first time in his life-he was jealous. Ever since his mother had died he’d thought his father was a fool to love. And here he himself was, being jealous.
He needed to go take a cold shower. He needed to go home. To bed.
In the room next to Amy. Yeah, right.
He took a deep breath.
‘OK. We’ve had enough for tonight. Dad, don’t worry about checking. If the Crammonds are sleeping in the same room they’ll wake if either becomes ill, and I know they’ll have enough sense to wake you. But if they had been poisoned by what they ate for dinner, they’d be ill by now. So relax. It’s time for bed.’
They nodded and turned wearily away, but before David left, he gripped Joss’s hand. ‘Thanks, Joss,’ he said softly. And then his grip hardened. ‘I’m proud of you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY drove home in the wreckage-mobile. It had started raining again-hard-and Amy had to concentrate on the road. Maybe that was why they were silent for the entire journey.
Or maybe…maybe it was that Joss’s life had subtly changed, and it occurred to him to wonder-had Amy’s world changed, too?
No. The emotions that Joss was feeling were just that, he told himself savagely.
They were silent because of what had just happened. They’d saved a life. A child’s life. It felt good.
But it didn’t override this strange new feeling that was flooding through him. Like life was opening up. It was a life he hadn’t known existed or if he had, he’d thought it was stupid until now.
The world of loving.
They pulled into the garage. Bertram came lolloping out to greet them and Joss was relieved by the noisy welcome. He’d been trying to train the dog to be a bit more sedate, but tonight it eased the tension.
Why should there be tension? He and Amy were medical colleagues who’d just achieved a very satisfactory outcome. There shouldn’t be any tension at all.
But…
‘Goodnight, Joss. And thank you.’ Before he knew what she was about she’d taken his face in her hands and she’d kissed him.
It was a feather kiss. A kiss of gratitude and goodnight.
There was no reason at all why he stood in the garage and stared stupidly after her as she disappeared into her house.
No reason at all.
Dawn saw them heading for the Crammonds’ house.
‘I’m coming, too,’ Amy declared when Joss emerged from his bedroom. He’d rung Jeff the night before, emphasising that he didn’t think this was a crime but that there was certainly something in the Crammond house that shouldn’t be there. The Sergeant had suggested meeting at seven o’clock and Joss rose at six to find Amy bundled into jeans and a sloppy Joe sweater-looking absolutely delicious-and right into detective mode.
‘OK. What should I take? A microscope? I don’t have skeleton keys and I’m sure they’re necessary.’ She looked thoughtfully down at Bertram-who was looking thoughtfully up at her toast. ‘Can we bring our sniffer dog?’
‘He’s not just a sniffer dog,’ Joss told her, taking a piece of toast she’d prepared for him. Damn, why didn’t toast taste this good when he made it himself? But somehow he made himself focus on Bertram. ‘He’s an eater dog. If he sniffed out poison he’d eat it straight away. He demolishes everything on the assumption that if it’s not digestible he can bring it back up later.’
‘That’s an intelligent dog.’ Bertram was promptly handed a piece of toast and he demonstrated his consumption ability forthwith. The toast disappeared with a gulp and he was wagging his tail for more. ‘That’s enough, Bertram. We have serious work to do. Do you think I should wear my raincoat with my collar turned up like they do in detective movies?’
‘If movies were made in Iluka-yes, you should.’ He stared out the window with morbid fascination at the sheets of rain pelting against the glass. ‘I could be stuck here for months.’
‘It suits me,’ Amy said, but she’d turned back to the toaster and he couldn’t see how serious she was. Or if she was serious at all.
The Crammonds’ home was certainly not like a crime scene. It was the comfortable home of a cosy pair of grandparents and there was nothing suspicious at all.
Joss had been given the key the night before. Now the three of them, the policeman, Amy and Joss, pulled the kitchen apart.
‘It’d help if we knew what we were looking for,’ the policeman complained. ‘You don’t think they’re into illicit substances-heroin or the like?’
‘It crossed my mind last night,’ Joss admitted. ‘Not heroin, no. The symptoms of heroin overdose are very different to what happened to Emma. But I did wonder if they might be manufacturing amphetamines.’
‘The Crammonds?’ Amy’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘You have to be kidding.’
‘The strangest people are into drugs,’ the policeman told her. He was inspecting canisters, one after another, poking his finger in and sniffing. ‘One of our local grannies had a quarter of an acre of cannabis planted in her vegetable patch. I only found out about it when husband became fed up with her pulling out his tomatoes. They had a full-scale domestic, the neighbour got worried and I was called.’
‘Here?’ Amy shook her head in disbelief. ‘In Iluka? Why did I never hear about it?’
‘Because I sprayed the lot with weedkiller and told her to make a donation to the Salvation Army’s drug rehabilitation programme,’ Jeff said dourly. ‘She was only growing it for herself-in fact, I suspect she hardly used the stuff and I didn’t see much point in sending her to prison.’
‘No.’ Amy was still stunned.
‘So Iluka’s a hotbed of vice.’ Joss was intrigued. ‘I thought nothing ever happened in Iluka.’
‘It’s precisely because nothing ever happens that things do happen,’ the policeman told him. ‘People get
