Page 32 of A Very Bookish Murder
‘I can bring down her handbag, if that’s any help?’ Millie asked before rushing upstairs again.
‘She was chatting away just a short time ago,’ bawled an appalled Penelope. ‘She seemed perfectly well, then.’
‘I only know she’s diabetic,’ Ally said, ‘and she doesn’t drink alcohol.’
The paramedics exchanged glances. ‘Could be an insulin overdose,’ one of them said as they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance, having established her name, address and as many particulars as possible from her diary in her handbag.
‘Better keep that safe upstairs, Millie,’ Ross advised, indicating the handbag.
Ally was thankful he was there because he had taken over, calmed the two women down and had phoned the Craigmonie totalk to Callum about the three women who were staying there. ‘In case there’s any suspicion of foul play, it’s probably wise to make sure that none of them leave.’ As he came off the phone, he said to Ally, ‘This could be quite serious, bearing in mind what you said to me earlier.’
‘I hope she’s going to be all right,’ Ally said as she watched the ambulance racing down the road, lights flashing, sirens blaring. ‘Joyce was very careful about her diet so I can’t believe she’d have got her insulin dose wrong.’
‘Plainly she got it very wrong,’ Ross remarked, then added, ‘unless it was administered by someone else.’
‘Oh God!’ exclaimed Ally. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that!’
‘Don’t forget she was about to tell you who she thought the killer was,’ Ross said.
‘Do you think then that she, too, could be a victim of the killer if the killer suspected she was about to spill the beans?’
‘Let’s see what happens,’ Ross said calmly. ‘Hopefully she’ll recover and be able to tell us what happened.’
Ally did not sleep well. She was feeling distracted, worrying so much that she could hardly set the breakfast table. Then, at the same time as her guests appeared for breakfast, so did Detective Inspector Amir Kandahar.
‘Come into the kitchen, Amir,’ Ally said, ‘and I’ll make you a tea. I’m just about to do breakfasts.’
The detective sat down at the far end of the kitchen table and removed a file from his briefcase. He cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m really sorry to tell you this, but Joyce Williams died just after midnight from what appears to have been a massive overdose of insulin.’
‘Oh,no!’
Ally began to cry, and Ross put his arm around her shoulders. ‘How on earth could that happen?’ he asked.
‘She had to have been injected,’ Amir said. ‘Her body has been examined thoroughly, but it’s difficult to diagnose because she obviously injects herself every day.’
‘Yes, she kept her insulin in a box in my fridge,’ Ally said, wiping her eyes.
‘I’ll need that box, please. And I need to know who might have had access to it.’
‘Access!’ Ally shook her head. ‘Well, I suppose everyone had?—’
‘Everyone?’ Amir frowned.
‘Well, I don’t lock the kitchen door, so anyone could have sneaked in there when I was out.’
‘So anyone staying here could be a suspect?’
‘Yes, of course. Are you saying that you think she’s been murdered then?’ Ally asked, thinking back in horror to her conversation of the previous evening. She accepted a handkerchief from Ross and gave her nose a blow. ‘If that’s true, then it must have been while she was lazing in the garden?’ She handed Amir his tea distractedly.
Amir didn’t reply for a moment. Then he said, ‘I need to talk to you about that. I need to know who was with her yesterday evening and for how long. My officers are searching the garden and the surrounding area at this moment to see if they can find a syringe, just in case someone administered the drug in the garden and then threw away the syringe, so I apologise if we mess up some of your flower beds and pots.’
‘I’ll sort that out later,’ Ross said to Ally, ‘so don’t you worry.’
‘What about breakfasts?’ Ally asked, looking towards the dining room.
No sooner had she spoken than Ross went straight in there and emerged a minute later. ‘All continental,’ he said, ‘because no one’s feeling very hungry. I’ll sort it.’
Ally wondered for the umpteenth time what on earth she’d do without Ross. She might consider herself to be a strong, independent woman, but on occasions like this, he was indispensable and endlessly supportive. As she placed some bread in the toaster for herself, she asked, ‘What can we do now?’
