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<title>Chapter 13</title>
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<h2>13</h2>
<p>Edward Tomlin stunned his family to silence when he told them he
was going to die.</p>
<p>It happened on the Friday night, one day after Shona Campbell's
baby had been torn from her arms by something which had leapt down
at her from the shadows, and only six hours after the girl herself
died from the terrible injuries. She never regained consciousness
which was a blow to Jack Fallon who had posted a policewoman to sit
by her bed in the hope she might, despite the devastating wound on
her head, have been able to give them some answers.</p>
<p>Tomlin was sitting at the head of the table in the kitchen in
the semi-detached house in Eastmains, out on the far edge of town.
When he sluggishly pushed his plate away from him, the sausage and
egg was untouched.</p>
<p>"Are you not hungry?" Margaret Tomlin asked him. Between them,
their two girls were feeding with obvious relish.</p>
<p>"I'm going to die," he said. The words came out without a trace
of emotion. Margaret picked up the tone immediately though the
girls missed it entirely.</p>
<p>"We're all going to die," Christine piped up. She was fourteen
and always in the top three in her class. She spread butter on a
slice of bread as she spoke. "It's a fact of life."</p>
<p>"Oh, don't talk like that," Trisha protested. "I hate that."</p>
<p>Margaret cut across them. "What did you say?"</p>
<p>"I'm going to die." He looked at her across the table, his face
completely and utterly blank. Margaret Tomlin, who was a pleasant,
plump woman with her faded fair hair pulled back in a pony-tail,
felt a slow coldness in her stomach. For the past week Eddie had
been very withdrawn. He'd stayed out late, and as soon as he was
home, he'd gone straight up to the loft where he kept with the
train set he'd owned since before they were married. The night
before, it had been well past midnight late and he hadn't said a
word, though in the morning she'd found his trousers were scuffed a
scraped and covered in mud from the knee to the ankle. When she'd
asked him what had happened, he'd given her a blank look and had
said nothing.</p>
<p>In all the years she'd known him, since both of them were at the
school the girls now attended, Edward Tomlin had been a dependable
man. Even boring, some might have said, and Margaret herself might
have said it if she'd been pressed. Certainly, they led dull enough
lives. The girls were quite well behaved and bookish. She worked as
a clerkess in Castlebank. He patrolled the empty Castlebank
shipyard. She knew nothing at all of the clothes he'd stolen from
washing lines at night, the panties and stockings which he kept
locked in the box behind the toolroom door, and which he wore in
the hollow silence of the hull-shed.</p>
<p>He never forgot their anniversary and they always wen out on
that day for an Italian meal in Glasgow. He belonged to no club and
rarely went out drinking.</p>
<p>In the past week or so, he'd been out without saying where he
was going and when he clambered in to bed beside her, she could
smell drink on his breath. A couple of times she'd asked him if
anything was wrong and he'd mumbled that there was nothing on his
mind.</p>
<p>She thought about the possibility that he might have another
woman and hated herself when she'd sniffed at the collar of his
jacket for traces of perfume. On the Wednesday, when he'd gone out
at night - <em>Just out, nowhere special</em>, he'd said vaguely -
she'd gone up to the loft and checked through the desk he had
there. There was nothing, no letters, no odd little gifts. She'd
gone through his pockets while he was up with his trains and had
come up with nothing. There were no receipts, no notes, no
telephone numbers. Nothing except for the tarot cards. Two of them.
The six of cups and the king of pentacles, old fashioned cards with
victorian-style artwork back and front, and the name of each
scrolled on the bottom. Both of the cards were bent, as if they'd
been stuffed in the pocket in haste. She knew next to nothing of
tarot, didn't have a clue where he could have picked them up. She
had put them back in his pocket and said nothing.</p>
<p>Now, on the Friday night. Edward turned round and told his
family he was going to die.</p>
<p>"I've done something," he said.</p>
<p>"Done what?" Margaret asked. She could hear the chill in her own
voice, almost echoing the dead coldness in his. Both girls looked
from father to mother, like spectators at tennis.</p>
<p>"Something. I don't know. It's too dark to see."</p>
<p>"What are you talking about it?" Margaret asked. She could feel
a little tremor start in her left hand. She put down the fork and
it rattled against the plate.</p>
<p>"I took something. I had to."</p>
<p>"What's wrong daddy?" Trisha piped up plaintively.</p>
<p>"I took weedkiller. Paraquat. I drank it."</p>
<p>Margaret opened her mouth, closed it again, fighting the
giddiness as the blood drained from her face.</p>
<p>"You did <em>what?</em>"</p>
<p>"Paraquat," he repeated. "I had to. It said so."</p>
<p>"Who said so?"</p>
<p>So far his voice had been dead flat. No inflection, no cadence.
The words came out and landed like cuts of meat on a butcher's
board. Eddie Tomlin's eyebrows arched upwards, and a look of
bewilderment came across his face.</p>
<p>"I...I don't know. Him. It. It said to."</p>
<p>"Edward Tomlin. Stop it this minute."</p>
<p>The puzzled expression faded, and the man's face went blank
again.</p>
<p>"Too late. Can't stop it now."</p>
<p>"I don't believe you," She shot back, clutching at the
straw.</p>
<p>He got up slowly and went to the back door. She heard the
outside door, beyond the pantry, open with a clatter. He went
outside and came back with a plastic bottle. She'd seen it before.
He'd used it in summer to clear the weeds from the stone chippings
on the narrow driveway.</p>
<p>"This is it. I drank it."</p>
<p>For a moment he sounded like a little boy boasting.</p>
<p>"And I'm going to die."</p>
<p>Trisha burst into tears. "Stop it daddy. I <em>hate</em> you
speaking like that," she bawled.</p>
<p>He turned to her and looked at her as if he'd never seen her
before.</p>
<p>"Can't stop it. Not now. The clock is running," Tomlin said, and
then he smiled a ghastly smile which only moved his mouth, while
the rest of his face remained expressionless.</p>
<p>"Time to go," he added. He got slowly to his feet and turned
away from the table.</p>
<p>The three of them watched him as he took four steps and then
started to slump when he reached the sink. His knees buckled and
Margaret heard the thud as his ribs caught the rounded edge. He
gave a little gasp and then she heard him retch violently. Liquid
splashed into the basin and Trisha was promptly vomited her eggs
onto her plate.</p>
<p>"Eddie?" Margaret asked in a voice that was more of a gasp.
"<em>Eddie</em>? Tell me it's a joke?"</p>
<p>He retched again. She could see his sides heave with the
violence of it. This time nothing came jetting out of his mouth. He
gagged twice then coughed, before bringing his head up. He turned
and as he did, he began to sink slowly to the floor.</p>
<p>"No joke," he said breathlessly. "All over. All over now." He
hiccupped. His face had gone greenish white. "Time to go now."</p>
<p>He slid down against the cupboard door and sprawled on the
vinyl. He tried to raise himself up on one elbow but failed. He
turned to his stricken wife, his eyes now wide and staring. A
trickle of saliva dribbled down his chin.</p>
<p>"Got to go now. Only good thing for me."</p>
<p>Christine was crying in a high-pitched continuous howl. Trisha
was still trying to get her breath back. There was a hot smell of
bile in the air.</p>
<p>Margaret Tomlin got herself up from her knees, her face as white
as her husband's and almost knocked herself out on the door in her
rush to get to the phone. Within fifteen minutes an ambulance
arrived to take Edward Tomlin to Lochend general where Shona
Campbell's body lay in one of the long, cold drawers.</p>
<p>A team of doctors began the hopeless fight to save his life. It
took him six days to die as inch by inch, the poison invaded his
organs and one by one they began to close themselves down.</p>
<p>By the time Jack Fallon got home that Friday, it was nearly
midnight and the cottage was cold. He slung his coat on the hook by
the front door and poured himself a drink first, before putting the
coffee on to heat. He was tired, cold and hungry, but didn't think
he could eat.</p>
<p>It had not been a good day.</p>
<p>Shona Campbell had died, as the doctors had predicted, from
blood-loss, exposure and the massive trauma. She had not regained
consciousness.</p>
<p>Jack had spoken to Robbie Cattenach on the phone.</p>
<p>"A heavy instrument. Not quite blunt. Like a log with nails in
it," Robbie had told him. "Tremendous damage to the left side of
her head. It's a wonder she survived as long as she did."</p>
<p>Jack urged him to go on. He knew he'd get the full report, but
it wouldn't be until Monday.</p>
<p>"She put up a fight, that's for sure."</p>
<p>"It was definitely a man then?"</p>
<p>"Probably. I'd put money on it. Someone very strong. I gave some
of the scrapings to your forensic people. She'd had a go alright,
but that didn't do her any good at all."</p>
<p>Ralph Slater and his team had gone over the scene for three
hours and came up with very little.</p>
<p>"Whoever hit her was a fair size," Ralph conjectured. "It's
definitely a downward blow. Caved in the side of her face. Not a
pretty sight. There was a lot under the nails of her left hand.
That's being analysed just now."</p>
<p>"Footprints?" Jack asked.</p>
<p>"Cold night, boss. Freezing. Any prints are two days old."</p>
<p>"What are the neighbours saying?"</p>
<p>Ralph handed over a manilla folder.</p>
<p>"It's all in there and not worth a damn. One old fellow heard
someone yelling late on, but that's just normal for the area at
that time of night. In fact, I get the impression it was quieter
than normal."</p>
<p>Jack had interviewed Craig Campbell, who had sobered up but made
just as little sense in the cold light of day. He was no help.</p>
<p>Blair Bryden had managed to get the snatch on the front page of
the Gazette and had a wing column devoted to Jock Toner's demise.
It was quick work. He must, Jack knew, have written it all within
an hour of leaving by the back door of the station to get it out on
time. It was a fair enough piece, and Blair had the advantage of
being a Levenford man born and bred. He knew just about
everybody.</p>
<p>The story spilled on to the centre spread where the local editor
had compiled wrap-up on the action over the past fortnight. Anybody
could read the question between the lines. Two possible suicides,
two child snatches. A woman killed. A father and his three children
dead in a fire. While the Gazette did not say, in so many words
that there was a connection between all these events, its tone did
suggest that misfortune had stamped into town and set up home.</p>
<p>Jack Fallon had to agree. It was a few weeks until the end of
the year, and already a bad winter had settled on Levenford.</p>
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