Page 59 of Dead Fall

Flyte’s old-school grammar made Cassie grin. ‘Good question. Apparently the severity of reaction will be worse according to how big a dose of the allergen you’re exposed to. But you do hear of cases where even the tiniest trace of peanut, say, picked up during food prep can kill you.’

‘So even a tiny bit sneaked into her food or drink might be fatal,’ Flyte mused. ‘The key isn’t so much finding out what she was allergic to but establishing who knew.’

‘Yeah. Any progress on a suspect?’ Cassie asked.

‘You know I can’t discuss that with you,’ she said stiffly before saying, ‘I will tell you this. You are not to discuss any of this with Ethan Fox. Is that understood?’

*

A few minutes later, Cassie called her dad, Callum, in Belfast. ‘To what do I owe this honour?’ he said, with that ever-present smile in his voice.

‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she said. ‘It’s just been stupid busy at work, and .?.?. you know I’m not great on the phone. How’s it going over there?’

‘Good. Yeah.’ The sounds of kids shouting excitedly in the background came over the line. ‘It’s been great seeing the wains, you know? We’re about to take them to the seaside.’

‘Really? Is it warm over there?’ Northern Ireland wasn’t known for its Mediterranean temperatures, especially in March.

‘I’ll have you know it’s getting on for fifteen degrees. Roasting.’ A soft chuckle.

‘Do you remember taking me to Marine Ices?’ she said, feeling suddenly nostalgic. When she’d been little, with her mother spending a lot of time in bed with depression – or a hangover – it was her dad who’d done the lion’s share of the parenting.

‘Of course.’

‘What was my favourite flavour?’ Testing him.

‘Rum and raisin.’ No hesitation.

‘Aha, so you’re to blame for giving me the taste for alcohol,’ she told him.

‘What was mine?’ he asked, cunningly.

‘Come on, I was four!’ she protested. ‘Umm .?.?. tutti-frutti?’

‘Impressive! You always did notice every little thing.’

‘It’s .?.?. good to hear your voice,’ she said, biting her lip – after so many years without a dad this stuff still didn’t come easy to her.

‘I love you, Catkin.’

A little surge of panic. But after a moment she found her voice. ‘I love you too, Dad.’

Chapter Thirty-Four

Around ten that evening Cassie found herself freezing her arse off in a queue of excitable Gen Z-ers outside a dance music venue in Camden Lock. She had Ethan to thank for the unscheduled night out. As a stranger to social media she’d’ve had no clue that SkAR – the dance-pop producer Bronte had worked with in Berlin – was doing a guest-DJ spot that night.

‘Maybe you can try to find out what happened over there to freak her out?’ Ethan had said on the phone earlier. ‘I’d ask him myself but he probably knows who I am.’

Picking up the anxiety in his voice, she remembered how arsey Flyte had been with her about not speaking to him. ‘Has something happened, with the cops?’

‘They think I was with her when she died,’ said Ethan, sounding miserable.

‘And were you?’

‘No! Look I did see her that evening but it was much earlier.’ A pause. ‘You believe me, don’t you?’

She made a non-committal sound. ‘So if this SkAR was involved it’d get them off your back.’

‘I know it’s a big ask, Cassie. But you want to know what happened almost as much as me, right?’

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