Dreaming of the Bones

here.”
    After responding to Winstead’s cheerful greeting, Kincaid gave him a rough outline of the case, adding, ”Do you know of anything that might potentiate digoxin, making it act more quickly than expected?” He rolled his eyes as Winstead began a lecture on the metabolic breakdown of poisons derived from digitalis. ”Wait, Winnie, I don’t have much time. Just give me a list, okay? Reserpine... quinidine... succinylcholine...” he repeated as he wrote in his notebook. ”Laxative abuse... calcium or potassium loss due to diuretics—” Giving Gemma a startled look, he said, ”Winnie, what kind of diuretic? Does it matter if it was natural or pharmaceutical? She drank diuretic herbal teas.” He listened a moment. ”Could someone have put the tablets in her tea? How many would it have taken? She had no history of heart trouble, but Lydia did. Right. Right. Okay, thanks, Winnie. I’ll let you know.”
    ”What?” Gemma asked as he rang off. Just then the road widened and she zipped round the tractor. ”Bloody nuisance,” she muttered.
    ”Winnie said the tea might have potentiated the digoxin, although he doesn’t know if it would have disguised the taste of the tablets. The tablets are small, though, and very soluble. Lydia would have needed very few, as she was already sensitized to the medication—Vic maybe twice that.”
    ”So it probably would’ve tasted bitter,” said Gemma, but Kincaid didn’t answer. They’d crossed the motorway and would be in Grantchester within minutes. He supposed he hadn’t really expected Ian McClellan to come back... and he supposed he’d expected to feel relieved if McClellan did... surely that would be best for Kit, after all, to stay where he’d been happy and secure...
    And it was all absolute bollocks, Kincaid thought as they reached the High Street junction. What he really felt at the prospect of confronting lan McClellan was a deep and simmering anger, and the thought of McClellan taking Kit out of his life brought with it a frightening sense of loss.
    Gemma pulled into the cottage’s drive with a spray of gravel, blocking the new model Renault parked near the back door.
    Nathan Winter stood near the Renault’s bonnet, talking to a slender, bearded man in a brown corduroy sports jacket, and from their gestures, Kincaid surmised that the discussion was not friendly. As he and Gemma got out of the car, he heard McClellan say, ”As far as I know this is still my bloody house, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me taking my things from it.”
    ”Good morning,” Kincaid said as they came up to the two men, ”you must be Ian McClellan.”
    McClellan turned, glaring at them. ”Who the hell are—” He stopped, his eyes widening as he focused on Kincaid. ”My God,” he said slowly. ”I don’t believe it. The ex-husband himself, riding to the rescue. You’ve a lot of nerve coming here.”
    Kincaid’s anger rose in a dizzying, sickening rush. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed the front of McClellan’s jacket with one hand and jerked him close. ”That would be offensive if Vic were alive,” he said. ”And now—”
    ” Duncan .” Gemma took his arm, pulling at him. ” Duncan , let him go.”
    Taking a breath, he released McClellan’s jacket and stepped back. ”You’re the one who left her,” he said, jabbing his finger at McClellan. ”And Kit.”
    ”So you want to talk about Kit, do you?” McClellan smiled and leaned back against his car, folding his arms, but a pulse beat in his neck. ”I’d say you left it a bit late.” Kincaid stared at him. ”What—what are you saying?”
    ”I’d have known you if I’d bumped into you in an alley. She kept photos of you, did you know that? Tucked away in her favorite books, in her office, in her desk. I used to wonder whether she took them out and compared Kit to you, checking his progress.”
    ”Bloody hell,” Kincaid breathed, shaking his head. ”You knew all along.”
    ”What?” asked Nathan, stepping between them. ”What are you talking about?” He still looked ill, but his face no longer had the flush of fever.
    Until that moment Kincaid had completely forgotten Nathan’s presence. ”Nathan, why don’t you and Gemma—”
    ”I didn’t mind so much at first,” McClellan continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. ‘‘She swore she didn’t know for certain, and I felt generous then. She’d chosen me, hadn’t she? And a child was a