Imposture (DI Gardener 6)
Page 108
“That’s what you lot always say, when you’re not saying ‘we’re doing the best we can.’”
The doctor smiled and wrote something on his clipboard.
“Did you find out what was in the syringe?”
“Yes. Secobarbital.”
“That sounds Russian, which means it can’t be any good for you.”
“It’s in a group of drugs we call barbiturates.”
“What does it do and how dangerous is it?”
“It slows the activity of your brain and nervous system. Short-term it’s used to treat insomnia, or as a sedative before surgery.”
“And long term?”
“We don’t use it for anything long term. Tell me, how is your friend’s health in general?”
“He’s about the fittest person we know.” Reilly held up the doughnut. “Won’t touch these things, or anything related to them.”
“Okay. Has he been to see his doctor for anything recently?”
“Not that I know of. The last time he went to the surgery his doctor had retired and he’d dropped off the system. They usually have to send for him to see if he’s still alive.”
The doctor nodded, writing more stuff down. “What’s that rash on his face?”
“I’m not entirely sure but I found a can of mace very close to where he was attacked.”
Reilly thought he caught a sigh of relief from the doctor. He asked why.
“We thought it might have been an allergic reaction to the barbiturates. That can happen. But the pepper spray would explain things. Has he been subjected to anything else recently?”
Reilly thought about the crime scene with Michael Foreman and the nitrogen mustard. He had no choice but to mention what had happened and that he didn’t think his friend had actually been exposed to it.
“That’s for us to decide but thank you for telling me, Mr Reilly.” The doctor lowered his clipboard, stepped over to the machinery, recording the readings.
He was about to leave the room.
“Just hold your horse there, Doc. Are you not even going to tell me how he is?”
The doctor glanced at Gardener. “He’s stable, Mr Reilly.”
“You’re just full of clichés. Come on, son, give me a gut feeling here. Is he okay; he is going to live, isn’t he?”
The doctor smiled and tapped Reilly’s shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can.”
THE END