Carol turned to Tony. This is David. He’s with CTC, as you’ve no doubt worked out for yourself. I’m told they don’t do manners.’ She stood and faced up to David. ‘He’s not working on this one. He’s working on another one. It may have escaped your notice, but we’ve got a poisoner on our patch. That’s what Dr Hill is helping us with.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t involve getting anywhere in a hurry,’ David said. ‘Mind you, from what I’ve heard of your exploits, it’s probably just as well you can’t get around. Carol, say goodbye. We need you next door.’ He turned on his heel and walked out.
‘Christ,’ Carol exploded. ‘What is it with those people?’
‘He almost certainly has a small penis,’ Tony said. ‘And he’s most likely read the briefing paper I did for the Home Office on what CTC should consist of.’ He smiled sadly. ‘If they’d listened, it wouldn’t be run by people like him.’ He winked at her and was relieved to hear her snort of laughter.
‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the lift,’ she said.
‘You’re sending me away?’ he said.
‘Yes, but not because of that twat. Because you should be in bed. You look like shit. I’ll try to come and see you later.’ She helped him to his feet and walked ahead of him so she could open the door. They moved slowly down the hall, Tony conscious that his energy was dwindling fast. ‘By the way,’ she said. ‘You asked me where Tom Cross went to school. Paula had already checked it out. Harriestown High. So there’s your link, I guess.’
‘Yes, Kevin told me. That’s one link,’ he said, leaning against the wall by the lifts.
‘There’s more?’
‘Luck, Carol. They were all lucky.’
Carol looked incredulous. ‘Lucky? They were all poisoned. They died horrible deaths. How is that lucky?’
The lift arrived and Tony staggered in. The luck came first. And I think it might be what got them killed.’
It was late and Carol was tired of CTC’s antics by the time she made it to the hospital. The night nurse tried to say something to her as she shot past, but she was in no mood for conversation. She knocked softly on Tony’s door and opened it quietly, hoping not to disturb him if he was sleeping. If he was out cold, she’d just leave the bundle of print-outs relating to the stadium bomb victims and go.
There was a pool of light over his bed table, and Carol could see Tony’s hand holding a pen, resting on top of some papers. He was groggy from drugs and sleep, his head lolling on his shoulder. But his were not the only hands on the table. Holding the papers still, guiding his hand to the right place was a perfectly manicured claw with scarlet talons.
‘Good evening, Mrs Hill, Carol said loudly.
She tried to snatch away the papers, but Carol was too quick for her. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Vanessa demanded. ‘This is none of your business.’
Carol snapped on the overhead light. Tony blinked furiously as he came round. ‘Carol?’ he said. She was too busy scrutinizing the papers Vanessa had been trying to get him to sign. Vanessa herself was lunging at Carol, edging round the bed all the while, desperate to get her hands on the papers.
‘I should remind you that I’m a police officer, Mrs Hill,’ Carol said in the tone of voice she normally reserved for the more contemptible of the criminals she dealt with. ‘Tony? What do you think these papers are? The ones your mother is trying to get you to sign?’
He rubbed his eyes and struggled to sit up. ‘It’s to do with my grandmother’s house. I half-own it. I need to sign the papers so we can sell it.’
‘Your grandmother’s house?’ Carol wanted to double-check before she delivered what she suspected would be a bombshell.
‘Yes.’
‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ Vanessa protested.
‘I do so,’ he said, stroppy as an over-tired toddler. ‘You’ve been on at me to sign them ever since you tracked me down in here.’
‘And was your grandmother called Edmund Arthur Blythe?’ Carol said, feigning an innocence that was calculated to infuriate Vanessa.
‘How dare you,’ she hissed at Carol.
‘What?’ Tony said. ‘Who’s Edmund Arthur Blythe?’
Vanessa lunged at Carol again and she straight-armed her away without a moment’s compunction. Vanessa staggered back, hitting the wall. She stood there for a moment, face stricken, hands to her mouth. Then she slid down the wall like a drunk and huddled on the floor. ‘No,’ she moaned. ‘No.’
Carol stepped over to the bed and said, ‘Someone who thought he was your father.’
Tony didn’t want to think about Edmund Arthur Blythe. He’d asked the nurse for something stronger than usual to make sure he slept, because he didn’t want to lie awake thinking about Edmund Arthur Blythe. Tony Blythe. That would have been his name if Vanessa had married him. He wondered if he would ever know why that hadn’t happened. With a different woman, he’d either have been able to make a reasonable guess or he’d have been able to ask. But he couldn’t ask his mother. And guessing was pointless because there were so many possibilities. Maybe he’d been married to somebody else. Maybe he’d taken fright at the idea of being married to Vanessa. Maybe she’d never told him she was pregnant. Or maybe she’d told him to bugger off, she’d be better off on her own. For forty-three years Vanessa had kept his identity and the circumstances of their relationship secret. He didn’t think she was suddenly going to feel the need to change that any time soon.
Before Carol had thrown her out last night, Vanessa had claimed her only motive was to protect Tony from the
