light switch or a mobile phone ringing to blow the place sky high. So if you’re not already dead from the gas, the chances are the explosion will kill you.’
He frowned and studied his plate as if he’d never seen food before. He prodded a piece of black olive with his fork and slowly said, ‘I’d like to know whether she was lying with her head on the edge of the oven or if she was jammed in.’
‘Does it make a difference? Surely what we’re concerned with is whatever pushed her over the edge?’
‘It makes a difference. If she knew the gas was heavier than air then it makes sense for her to get as close under the burners as she could.’ He loaded up his fork and resumed eating. ‘What else is bothering you about Daisy?’
‘According to the inquest report, she didn’t leave a note.’ Carol held a hand up to forestall the objection she could see coming. ‘Yes, I know she might have left something that was destroyed in the explosion, but I think she’d have thought of that. There are lots of ways to leave a message. She could have sent an email, she could have put something in the post. She could have left a note in her council office.’
‘Did Kate or Jasmine leave a note?’
‘I don’t know yet. I need more information.’
‘I’d have expected some sort of communication if there was something that tipped them over the edge,’ Tony mused. ‘These were women who knew all about getting the word out there. Even if they’d been pushed beyond bearing themselves, wouldn’t they have wanted to save other women from the same fate?’
‘Unless what pushed them carried a wider threat,’ Carol said. ‘To their children or their partners?’
‘That would make sense.’
There was nothing more to say, but they carried on worrying at the few facts they possessed long after they’d finished eating. He loved seeing her animated by what she’d always done best – analysing, rearranging and making sense of disparate pieces of information. Watching the shifting expressions cross her face, the pain of missing her hit him afresh. He couldn’t bear it if he let her slip from his grasp again.
Carol produced Paula’s email and they picked their way through that, finding nothing more substantial to add to the little they already had. That, Tony thought, was the trouble with trying to build something out of thin air. This had started with the most slender of notions and now they were behaving as if it had genuine substance. He’d been intrigued by a detail and he’d wanted to give Carol a bone to chew to take her mind off drinking and what it had brought her to. And now they had real police officers carrying out clandestine trawls for information. He’d got them all chasing a chimera. He’d created an expectation he wasn’t certain he could fulfil. The let-down could end up causing more grief than the original problem. And all because he’d been so desperate to find a way back into Carol’s good graces.
He was on the point of trying a gentle warning when the dog leapt to her feet and made for the door in a blur of black-and-white and a cacophony of barking. Tony glanced at his watch as Carol got up. ‘It’s a bit late for visitors.’
‘I don’t get visitors,’ she said, heading out into the barn, snapping on a work lamp as she went. Tony followed because, if it wasn’t visitors, she shouldn’t have to face whoever it was alone. He was at her shoulder when she pulled the door open to reveal a man in a tweed flat cap and a waxed jacket with a plaid scarf knotted carelessly at the throat. His beard reminded Tony of the portrait on King Edward cigar packets. He suspected it of being camouflage for thin lips at odds with a slightly bulbous nose. The skin round his eyes fell into deep wrinkles when he smiled. The dog had stopped barking and dropped to her haunches.
‘Sorry to call so late, Carol, but I was passing.’
Carol cast a quick look over her shoulder, checking where Tony was. She
He frowned and studied his plate as if he’d never seen food before. He prodded a piece of black olive with his fork and slowly said, ‘I’d like to know whether she was lying with her head on the edge of the oven or if she was jammed in.’
‘Does it make a difference? Surely what we’re concerned with is whatever pushed her over the edge?’
‘It makes a difference. If she knew the gas was heavier than air then it makes sense for her to get as close under the burners as she could.’ He loaded up his fork and resumed eating. ‘What else is bothering you about Daisy?’
‘According to the inquest report, she didn’t leave a note.’ Carol held a hand up to forestall the objection she could see coming. ‘Yes, I know she might have left something that was destroyed in the explosion, but I think she’d have thought of that. There are lots of ways to leave a message. She could have sent an email, she could have put something in the post. She could have left a note in her council office.’
‘Did Kate or Jasmine leave a note?’
‘I don’t know yet. I need more information.’
‘I’d have expected some sort of communication if there was something that tipped them over the edge,’ Tony mused. ‘These were women who knew all about getting the word out there. Even if they’d been pushed beyond bearing themselves, wouldn’t they have wanted to save other women from the same fate?’
‘Unless what pushed them carried a wider threat,’ Carol said. ‘To their children or their partners?’
‘That would make sense.’
There was nothing more to say, but they carried on worrying at the few facts they possessed long after they’d finished eating. He loved seeing her animated by what she’d always done best – analysing, rearranging and making sense of disparate pieces of information. Watching the shifting expressions cross her face, the pain of missing her hit him afresh. He couldn’t bear it if he let her slip from his grasp again.
Carol produced Paula’s email and they picked their way through that, finding nothing more substantial to add to the little they already had. That, Tony thought, was the trouble with trying to build something out of thin air. This had started with the most slender of notions and now they were behaving as if it had genuine substance. He’d been intrigued by a detail and he’d wanted to give Carol a bone to chew to take her mind off drinking and what it had brought her to. And now they had real police officers carrying out clandestine trawls for information. He’d got them all chasing a chimera. He’d created an expectation he wasn’t certain he could fulfil. The let-down could end up causing more grief than the original problem. And all because he’d been so desperate to find a way back into Carol’s good graces.
He was on the point of trying a gentle warning when the dog leapt to her feet and made for the door in a blur of black-and-white and a cacophony of barking. Tony glanced at his watch as Carol got up. ‘It’s a bit late for visitors.’
‘I don’t get visitors,’ she said, heading out into the barn, snapping on a work lamp as she went. Tony followed because, if it wasn’t visitors, she shouldn’t have to face whoever it was alone. He was at her shoulder when she pulled the door open to reveal a man in a tweed flat cap and a waxed jacket with a plaid scarf knotted carelessly at the throat. His beard reminded Tony of the portrait on King Edward cigar packets. He suspected it of being camouflage for thin lips at odds with a slightly bulbous nose. The skin round his eyes fell into deep wrinkles when he smiled. The dog had stopped barking and dropped to her haunches.
‘Sorry to call so late, Carol, but I was passing.’
Carol cast a quick look over her shoulder, checking where Tony was. She
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