“How did you find her?” Robin asked Janice.

“Well—” began Janice, but Irene talked over her.

“Snobby. Jan, come on. She marries herself a rich consultant —that was no two-up, two-down, that place out in Ham! Proper eye-opener it was, seeing what she’d married into, and then she has the gall to come into work preaching the liberated life to the rest of us: marriage isn’t the be all and end all, don’t stop your career, blah blah blah. And always finding fault.”

“What did she—?”

“How you answered the phone, how you spoke to patients, how you dressed, even—‘Irene, I don’t think that top’s appropriate for work.’ She was a bloody Bunny Girl! The hypocrisy of her! I didn’t dislike her,” Irene insisted. “I didn’t, truly, I’m just trying to give you the full—oh, and she wouldn’t let us make her hot drinks, would she, Jan? Neither of the other two doctors ever complained we didn’t know what to do with a teabag.”

“That’s not why—” began Janice.

“Jan, come on, you remember how fussy—”

“Why would you say she didn’t like people making her drinks?” Strike asked Janice. Robin could tell that his patience was wearing thin with Irene.

“Oh, that was ’cause of when I was washing up mugs one day,” said Janice. “I tipped the dregs out of Dr. Brenner’s and I found an—”

“Atomal pill, wasn’t it?” asked Irene.

“—Amytal capsule, stuck to the bottom. I knew what it was from the col—”

“Blue,” interjected Irene, nodding, “weren’t they?”

“Blue ’Eavens, they used to call them on the street, yeah,” said Janice. “Downers. I always made sure everyone knew I didn’t ’ave nuffing like that in me nurse’s bag, when I was out makin’ ’ouse calls. You ’ad to be careful, in case you got mugged.”

“How did you know it was Dr. Brenner’s cup?” asked Strike.

“’E always used the same one, wiv his old university’s coat of arms on,” said Janice. “There’d ’ave been ’ell to pay if anyone else touched it.” She hesitated, “I don’t know wevver—if you’ve talked to Dr. Gupta—”

“We know Dr. Brenner was addicted to barbiturates,” Strike said. Janice looked relieved.

“Right—well, I knew ’e must’ve dropped it in there, accidental, when he was taking some. Probably didn’t realize, thought it ’ad rolled away on the floor. There’d have been a lot of questions asked, usually, at a doctor’s surgery, finding drugs in a drink. If something gets into someone’s tea by accident, that’s serious.”

“How much harm would a single capsule—?” Robin began.

“Oh, no real harm,” said Irene knowledgeably, “would it, Jan?”

“No, a single capsule, that’s not even a full dose,” said Janice. “You’d’ve felt a bit sleepy, that’s all. Anyway, Margot come out the back to make the tea when I was tryin’ to get the pill off the bottom of the mug with a teaspoon. We ’ad a sink and a kettle and a fridge just outside the nurse’s room. She saw me trying to scrape the pill out. So it weren’t fussiness, ’er making ’er own drinks after that. It were precautionary. I took extra care to make sure I was drinking out of me own mug, as well.”

“Did you tell Margot how you thought the pill had got in the tea?” asked Robin.

“No,” said Janice, “because Dr. Gupta ’ad asked me not to mention Brenner’s problem, so I just said ‘must’ve been an accident,’ which was technically true. I expected her to call a staff meeting and hold an inquiry—”

“Ah, well, you know my theory about why she didn’t do that,” said Irene.

“Irene,” said Janice, shaking her head. “Honestly—”

“My theory,” said Irene, ignoring Janice, “is Margot thought someone else had put the pill in Brenner’s drink, and if you’re asking me who—”

“Irene,” said Janice again, clearly urging restraint, but Irene was unstoppable.

“—I’ll tell you —Gloria. That girl was as rough as hell and she came from a criminal background—no, I’m saying it, Jan, I’m sure Cameron wants to know everything what was going on at that practice—”

“’Ow can Gloria putting something in Brenner’s tea—and by the way,” Janice said to Strike and Robin, “I don’t fink she did—”

“Well, as I was on the desk with Gloria every day, Jan,” said Irene loftily, “I knew what she was really like—”

“—but even if she did put the pill in ’is tea, Irene, ’ow could that ’ave anything to do with Margot disappearin’?”

“I don’t know,” said Irene, who seemed to be getting cross, “but they’re interested in who was working there and what went on—aren’t you?” she demanded of Strike, who nodded. With a “See?” to Janice, Irene plunged on, “So: Gloria came from a really rough family, a Little Italy family—”

Janice tried to protest, but Irene overrode her again.

“She did, Jan! One of her brothers was drug dealing, that sort of thing, she told me so! That Atomal capsule might not’ve come from Brenner’s store at all! She could’ve got it off one of her brothers. Gloria hated Brenner. He was a miserable old sod, all right, always having a go at us. She said to me once, ‘Imagine living with him. If I was his sister I’d poison the old bastard’s food,’ and Margot heard her, and told her off, because there were patients in the waiting room, and it wasn’t professional, saying something like that about one of the doctors.

“Anyway, when Margot never did anything about the pill in Brenner’s mug, I thought, that’s because she knows who did it. She didn’t want her little pet in trouble. Gloria was her project, see. Gloria spent half her time in Margot’s consulting room being lectured on feminism while I was left to hold the fort on reception… she’d’ve let Gloria away with murder, Margot would. Total blind spot.”

“Do either of you know where Gloria is now?” asked Strike.

“No idea. She left not long after Margot disappeared,” said Irene.

“I never saw her again after she left the practice,” said Janice, who looked uncomfortable, “but Irene, I don’t fink we should be flinging accusations—”

“Do me a favor,” said Irene abruptly to her friend, a hand on her stomach, “and fetch that medicine off the top of the fridge for me, will you? I’m still not right. And would anyone like more tea or coffee while Jan’s there?”

Janice got up uncomplainingly, collected empty cups, loaded the tray and set off for the kitchen. Robin got up to open the door for her, and Janice smiled at her as she passed. While Janice’s footsteps padded away down the thickly carpeted hall, Irene said, unsmiling,

“Poor Jan. She’s had an awful life, really. Like something out of Dickens, her childhood. Eddie and I helped her out financially a few times, after Beattie left her. She calls herself ‘Beattie,’ but he never married her, you know,” said Irene. “Awful, isn’t it? And they had a kid, too. I don’t think he ever really wanted to be there, and then he walked out. Larry, though—I mean, he wasn’t the brightest tool in the box,” Irene laughed a little, “but he thought the world of her. I think she thought she could do better at first—Larry worked for Eddie, you know—not on the management side, he was just a builder, but in the end, I think she realized—well, you know, not everyone’s prepared to take on a kid…”