“And did he use his inhalers often?” Sophie asked, moving out across the firm trapezius muscles that Lindsay had built up on the volleyball court and in the surf.

“Mmm,” Lindsay breathed. “Yeah, every few hours or so, I guess.”

“And did you ever see him have an acute attack?”

“Only the once. The day after we arrived at Blackpool. Laura brought her golden retriever over to our table in the bar at lunchtime. The dog was next to Ian. He took his inhalers right away, but it didn’t seem to help. He was really wheezing and struggling for breath. Don’t suppose I have to tell you, you’ll have seen it often enough. Oh, God, Soph, that’s perfect, just there,” she added as Sophie dug her thumbs in around Lindsay’s spine.

“QED,” Sophie said, trying to keep the note of triumph out of her voice.

“What is?” Lindsay groaned.

“The point I was trying to make. Any asthmatic whose condition was bad enough to require the use of inhalers every few hours and who was prone to acute attacks provoked by specific allergens would never have been caught out with one empty inhaler,” Sophie said.

“But they must run out some time,” Lindsay objected.

Sophie nodded. “Of course they do. But asthmatics have a healthy respect for their illness. They know it can kill. When I was a student, I shared a flat with a woman who had relatively bad asthma, and she had inhalers like most people have personal jewellery. There was always at least one in her bag, usually a couple. There was one tucked down the seat of her armchair, one in the bathroom, one in the cutlery drawer and one by her bed. Whenever we were going out anywhere, she always gave her inhaler a shake to check there was enough in it to cope if she had an acute attack. It was a reflex. And she wasn’t paranoid. From what I’ve seen of asthmatics, she was pretty typical. That’s why I don’t believe what you’ve told me about Ian’s death. I find it inconceivable that he didn’t have a spare inhaler either on his person or in his car.”

“So how come nobody pointed that out at the time?” Lindsay asked.

“Speaking purely as a subscriber to chaos theory, I’d assume that the coroner was a lawyer rather than a doctor and that no one involved on the official side knew much about asthma. But you’re right to ask the question,” she added. “It’s curious that it didn’t crop up.”

Suddenly, Lindsay jumped to her feet. “The hot water!” she exclaimed, hitting the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Of course, the hot water!”

Sophie sat patiently, watching Lindsay bouncing on the balls of her feet like a runner waiting for the starting-pistol. “The hot water?” she asked.