Flyte

FLYTE

In the ambulance service's canteen there were half a dozen green-uniformed paramedics sitting around various tables.

They recognised Gary and Yasmin from the employment record images that Holly had shown them: Gary, a bear of a man in his late forties with dark stubble who loomed over the tiny, much younger Yasmin sitting next to him.

After introducing themselves, Streaky showed them an image of Bronte – the one her mother had given police at the start of the investigation. It was a snap of her striking a jokey pose in the market, looking like any other young woman, rather than one of the paparazzi specials.

‘Sophia Angelopoulos. Breathing difficulties? It was a Category 1 call to one of the warehouse apartments by the canal in Camden last September?'

Shrugging, Gary shook his head, and after studying the shot so did Yasmin. ‘People can look totally different when they're sick.'

He stirred sugar into his tea before adding, ‘We get twenty-plus calls a night. We've probably been on a few thousand since then.'

‘You might also know her as Bronte?' prompted, making an effort to suppress the impatience in her voice. ‘The dance music celebrity?'

Blank looks from both of them. Gary said, ‘Music-wise, I'm more of a Dusty fan.'

‘This was an allergic reaction, a serious one,' tried.

‘That's become a pretty common call-out over the last five, ten years,' Yasmin said.

was losing hope. ‘What would the treatment be in a case like that?' Hoping to jog their memories.

‘Adrenaline, intra-muscular,' said Gary. ‘Works like a charm.'

‘But you'd still take them to A & E?' This from Streaky.

‘Oh, no question. You can get a biphasic reaction a few hours later. And they need to get referred to the allergy clinic, find out what caused the initial reaction.'

‘You didn't take this young woman to A & E, but then I guess not everyone listens to your advice, am I right?' asked Streaky.

‘Exactly,' said Gary, nodding sagely. ‘It's their funeral.'

Literally, sometimes .

scrolled through her photos and pulled up the images of Bronte's flat taken after her death. ‘Here's her place. Tenth-floor apartment overlooking the canal. Ring any bells?'

Gary's brow furrowed, and he looked over at Yasmin. ‘Do you remember that place with the music posters? There was a fantastic one of Nina Simone, proper vintage.'

‘That's it! That's the place,' said .

‘I only remember the poster,' said Gary. ‘Wasn't that the block where the lift was out of action?' he said to Yasmin. ‘And I said I hope to fu—God we don't have to stretcher her down.'

Yasmin peered at the images ‘Oh yes! I do remember. We don't see too many places with a piano.'

‘Did you ask her what she'd eaten to cause the allergic reaction?' chipped in.

Yasmin nodded slowly. ‘A takeout vegan mezze, which wasn't much help – it would be full of potential allergens – nuts, legumes, soybeans .?.?. I told her she needed to get tested but she was .?.?.' she hesitated.

‘Dismissive?' said .

‘I was going to say drunk,' said Yasmin with a look. ‘And probably stoned.'

Streaky said, ‘We think somebody was with her when it happened.' They had to tread carefully – any identification had to come from the witnesses unaided.

Yas nodded. ‘Mmm, yes. There was a guy there.'

‘Could you describe him?'

‘Umm. Tall. Nice-looking,' said Yasmin.

bit her lip.

‘Yaz likes an older guy,' said Gary, sending her a cheeky look.

‘Older?' queried . Yasmin could only be a few years younger than Ethan.

Yasmin blushed. ‘Yes, in his fifties, at a guess? He said he was her dad.'