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‘Poe even got in the bath and checked underneath the taps in case Mr Cummings had cut himself when he used his foot to add hot water.’
‘He’s not bribing or threatening someone to bring the poison in?’
‘We can’t rule that out,’ Poe admitted.
‘But?’
‘But I don’t think that’s how he’s doing it. This guy’s careful. Bribing someone leaves too many variables.’
‘And you don’t think he’s somehow forcing them to take it themselves. Threatening to expose a shameful secret?’
Poe snorted.
‘Cummings didn’t possess the shame gene,’ he said. ‘And Hunt was a shallow gobshite. And if you threatened to expose one of Karen Royal-Cross’s secrets she’d just start yapping about fake news and how it was all the fault of immigrants.’
‘Well then,’ Doyle said, ‘it seems it’s a case of waiting your whole career for an impossible crime and two showing up at the same time.’
‘I swear, I’m one bad mood away from declaring it black magic and going home.’
He checked his watch. They’d been allocated two hours for the visit and he wanted to use it all. Doyle being out of her cell, talking about something normal, for her at least, was probably preferable to being in her cell trying to read indecipherable graffiti. Also, her brain was as big as Bradshaw’s – discussing a case with her was always time well spent.
‘Tell me about poison,’ he said.
‘All things are poison and nothing is without poison,’ she said automatically.
Poe leaned forward.
‘Explain,’ he said.
