‘He’s in meetings today,’ Leo said, mentally crossing his fingers. ‘Be a bit of a coup if we find ricin, though, right? Front page of the nationals, I reckon.’
There was a long pause before the CSI spoke. ‘Okay. Leave it with me.’
‘If we don’t get a result on it today,’ Leo says now, ‘we’ll have to get authorisation to keep Yasmin another twelve hours. We can’t take the risk of witness interference if we bail her.’
‘Great,’ Ffion says. ‘Double time for rest-day working.’
‘I’d rather have the weekend off. I’ve had to cancel seeing my lad.’ Leo tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he can feel Ffion’s eyes on him. ‘My ex is moving to Australia with her new partner,’ he says shortly. ‘They’re taking Harris.’
‘They can’t.’
‘I’d have to take them to court to stop them.’
‘So take them to court.’
‘I can’t.’ Leo knows Allie would be on the phone to Social Services in a heartbeat, readying the recording of Harris’s cries to be played in court.
‘Of course you—’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘You’re the kid’s dad – you’ve got rights.’
‘Just forget it. I don’t know why I even told you.’ Because he hasn’t told anyone else, Leo realises. Because he needs to talk.
Jonty Charlton does not want to talk. He takes one look at them and begins to push the door shut. ‘If you haven’t got a warrant—’
‘Yasmin says you’ll leave your wife for her,’ Ffion says. ‘That’s sweet.’
Jonty freezes, his mouth slightly open.
‘Who is it, darling?’ Blythe drifts into the hall. ‘Oh, hello, officers!’ A band of taut stomach is just visible beneath a cropped T-shirt and baggy cardigan. The crotch of her voluminous purple trousers hangs somewhere around her knees. ‘How can we help you?’
Ffion smiles. ‘I was just saying to your husband—’
‘No!’ Jonty’s cry is less word and more yelp. ‘They hadn’t yet – I mean . . .’ He clears his throat. ‘If there’s anything I can help with, I’d be delighted to accompany you to the station.’
‘That’s very obliging of you,’ Leo says. ‘But we just wanted to clarify where exactly you were at eleven-thirty p.m. on New Year’s Eve. Your statement is a little vague.’
‘Where I was?’ Jonty swallows and glances at Blythe.
‘Yes.’ Ffion runs an idle finger along the door frame. ‘You see, you aren’t in any photos taken then, and you weren’t with Yasmin Lloyd, although I understand you do spend a lot of time with—’
‘I was doing coke with Ashleigh Stafford.’ Jonty’s words come out in a rush, too loud and too fast. ‘There were too many people coming and going in the lodge, and Ashleigh didn’t want to share, so we went to her place. Did a few lines, watched some crap on TV, talked shit.’
Blythe’s mouth falls open. ‘Cocaine? Oh, Jonty! How could you?’
‘We’ll need to check that out with Mrs Stafford, of course,’ Leo says.
‘Of course, of course, but that’s where I was.’ Jonty looks at Blythe, who is close to tears. ‘Lighten up, Blythe, it’s hardly heroin.’
‘One other thing,’ Ffion says. ‘Did you take a boat out on New Year’s Eve?’
‘No.’ Here, Jonty seems on firmer ground. ‘I told you, Blythe Spirit’s not in the water over winter. The only boats here were motorboats belonging to some of the guests who came over from the village. I couldn’t have taken one out even if I’d wanted to. I happened to take a look at them during the party – I rather fancy getting one – and they all had ignitions with no keys.’
‘Thinking about trading Blythe in for something a bit racier?’ Ffion says.
‘It’s Blythe Spirit,’ Blythe corrects.
‘Of course it is. Sorry.’
‘There was a boat on the lake, though,’ Jonty says. ‘I remember seeing it. It’s quite distinctive: green hull, red sails.’ He puts a hand on the door again. ‘Will that be all?’
‘That’s fine,’ Leo says. ‘We’ll chat about your relationship with Yasmin another time,’ he adds, just as the door closes.
‘What relationship?’ they hear, as they walk down the path; Blythe’s voice uncharacteristically strident. Leo feels a splinter of guilt, but reasons Blythe’s better off knowing the truth.