FORTY-THREE

Detectives French and Saunders and their tame trick-cyclist have left and suddenly there’s a weird atmosphere on the ward. Weirder than normal, I mean. Usually, at any time of the day or night, there’s one or two people plodding around in a bit of a daze, but now it’s like everyone is . . . subdued. Nobody seems very keen to discuss what’s been happening, to talk about anything come to that, and I start to wonder if the staff have got together and decided to up the dosage on everyone’s sleepy-pills.

If it’s something they do whenever it’s necessary.

When things get a bit stressful or if they’re understaffed.

So make that . . . all the time.

I remember reading somewhere that prison officers are quite happy that their prisons are in the grip of a Spice epidemic, because zombified inmates are that much easier to handle. The prisoners are happy being off their tits because it helps them forget they’re, you know, in prison, and it gives the screws a bit more time to put their feet up and do sudokus. It’s a win-win. It’s hardly a big leap to imagine Marcus and his team doing whatever it takes to make their working lives a bit more peaceful, is it?

I might ask Marcus when I get the chance, but I doubt he’ll admit it.

For now, it’s just me, Big Gay Bob and Tiny Tears chilling out in the dining room. I’m actually quite glad that there hasn’t been a lot of chat about this latest round of interviews, because if it was to start now, I can guess the kind of thing Bob would have to say about the hot psychiatrist.

[Puts hand on cock] I told her to analyse this!

Instead he says, ‘I miss Debbie.’

‘Why’s that?’ I ask.

I’m still thinking he’s cueing himself up for a crack about his history of rumpy-pumpy with Scottish women, but he just looks sad. ‘Because she was nice.’

‘Was she, though?’

‘Well, not to everyone, I suppose. Her and Femi didn’t like each other very much and she had that big row with George.’

‘What big row?’ I ask.

‘A couple of days before she was killed, in one of the exam rooms. I don’t know what they’d fallen out about, but I could hear them shouting.’

I know Debbie and Femi had clashed a few times, but this is the first I’ve heard about her and George. I should try and ask George about it when I get the chance.

‘She was nice to me, though,’ Bob says.

‘Why wouldn’t she be? You’re nice.’

‘Thanks, Al,’ he says. Then he shakes his head. ‘Not nice enough to stop Sandra leaving.’