A Poisoned Mind by Natasha Cooper Page B

killed himself. But he didn’t.’
Her voice was rising. ‘He’d never have done that. He was murdered by your clients. And you’re an evil bi—’
    The man grabbed her, turning her and pulling her against him. He had one hand on the back of her head, holding it hard against his shoulder. Trish thought he was more interested in keeping Angie quiet than in providing comfort.
    You shouldn’t mistrust someone just because he had an uncontrolled beard and inappropriate clothes, or even because he’d snapped at a woman in extremis and wouldn’t let her speak. But there was something about him that set Trish’s teeth on edge.
    She left them to it.
    ‘Not bad,’ Robert murmured into her ear as they pushed their way through the crowd of angry spectators. ‘At least you didn’t join in. But you’re dicing with danger, you know. Getting an illegitimate guesstimate of the deceased’s mental state was never part of Antony’s plan. And it doesn’t fit with the skeleton argument, so you’re likely to piss off the judge. And—’
    ‘Robert.’ Trish paused until he’d wheeled round to look at her. ‘Remember the climbing analogy?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘If you don’t shut up, I will cut the rope and let you drop into the crevasse and die. This is my case now and we do it my way. OK?’
    Watching his face made her think the lunch hour they were about to share might be a little tense.
     
    The first lesson after lunch was chemistry. David dreaded it. In the old days all science lessons were just boring and difficult. Now it was different. He’d been given Jay as his partner in experiments instead of Sam, who’d been moved
up into the A stream this term, so he had to spend the whole double period watching to make sure Jay didn’t do anything dangerous.
    At first, he and Sam had barely noticed the new boy, except for laughing privately about his awful spots and the short kind of round haircut with the weird fringe. Then Mr Watson, the science teacher, had asked David if he’d help look after Jay while he found his feet. David probably would have said yes anyway, because you didn’t say no to Mr Watson unless you had a seriously good reason. But it was the way Mr Watson looked at Jay that made David really want to help.
    Trish used to do it to him when he first came to live with her. She’d looked scared all the time, as if he might do something awful, but sugary and sympathetic too, which made for a really creepy mixture. And she’d watched everything he did in a way grown-ups didn’t usually unless they were doctors. Peering at him, checking everything he did and didn’t say, or do, or eat, or read, till he had nothing left of his own at all. He’d wanted to shout and scream and throw things. But of course he couldn’t.
    Jay could, though. In most places David felt like cheering him on. But it was different in the labs. The stuff there was dangerous. Even thinking about what a spray of acid could do to someone’s face made him feel ill.
    ‘Come on, Dave.’ Jay whacked him on the back. ‘Cheer up. Watson can’t lay a finger on you even if you haven’t done your homework. An’ if he shouts too much you can just tip over the Bunsen burner and set his trousers on fire, innit.’
    David shuddered, pretending he was pretending. Jay gave him a look as clear as anything Trish ever did.
    ‘It’s a joke, mate,’ he said. ‘You’re meant to laugh.’
    ‘Hee hee.’
     
    Angie spent the first part of the afternoon demolishing Trish’s attempt to establish the fact of John’s depression, and she did it with unexpected neatness and apparently no emotion whatsoever. Trish was relieved she’d got herself together so quickly but more than a little surprised.
    At last the doctor was allowed to go and Angie’s next witness was called: an estate agent specialising in the sale and purchase of farms like hers.
    Trish listened to his account of why it would now be impossible to sell the farm, and asked her