‘Certainly possible, ma’am.’
‘But you don’t think so?’
‘Beck would need privacy each time he was substituting the victim’s medication for his own. Temple run a twenty-four-hour operation so I don’t think a cleaner would get that level of freedom.’
‘Which leaves the driver.’
‘Whodoeshave the privacy required to switch the medication. He could simply take it home at the end of his shift, switch blister packs, then deliverhismedication the following day. No duplicates to worry about. And he’d have access to the client database so he could check addresses and delivery instructions.’
‘Do Temple have an updated photograph of him?’
‘Bad news there, I’m afraid, ma’am,’ Flynn said. ‘As they don’t actually engage with customers, drivers aren’t required to have photo ID.’
‘They must have taken a copy of his driving licence though?’
‘They did, but it’s an old photograph and it’s not great. There’s an address though, for what it’s worth.’
‘Almost certainly fake, but we’ll check it out anyway,’ Mathers said. ‘This is excellent work, DI Flynn. Does anyone have anything to add?’
Poe put his head in his hands and groaned softly. Mathers saw him.
‘Is there a problem, Sergeant Poe?’
‘This could have ended tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We could have staked out Temple’s distribution centre and arrested Beck when he turned up for his shift. But because of that bloody press conference, he now knows we’re on to him. My guess is we’ll not hear from him until he has a brand new plan.’
Mathers didn’t answer. Poe could tell he had hit home though. A uniformed constable entered the room and made his way to the front. He passed Mathers a note.
‘It seems you’re wrong, Sergeant Poe,’ she said. ‘Frederick Beck is on the phone. He wants to speak to you.’