The Various Haunts of Men Read Online Free PDF Page B

shop, she felt – different. Better. The blue card stayed in her mind and now and then, when she thought of it during the day, she seemed tobe able to draw something from it. At any rate, the blackness shrank back like a cowering creature right to the far edges of her mind, and stayed there.

Five
    ‘I would like to see someone in higher authority, please. A CID officer.’
    Running a care home for fifteen elderly people in all stages of dementia had trained Carol Ashton to be patient and firm, in the way of a teacher of small children – the two jobs, she often thought, had much in common. She was also skilled in getting even the most recalcitrant to do as she asked eventually. All ofwhich the desk sergeant recognised.
    ‘You mustn’t think we take reports of missing persons lightly.’
    ‘I’m sure. But I also know that a name goes down, together with a very brief description, on a list which is circulated to various agencies after which – unless the missing person is a child or in some other way especially vulnerable – that is that.’
    She was not wrong.
    ‘The real problem is,Mrs Ashton, that a surprisingly large number of people go missing.’
    ‘I know. I also know that a good many of them turnup safe and well. I am also more than familiar with the word “resources”. All the same, I would still like to see someone who will take the matter further. And as I said, I am not trying to belittle the uniformed police when I say that I would like to talk to a detective.’
    She turned away from the desk and went to sit down on the bench seat against the wall. There were small tears and splits in the upholstery here and there, through which grey stuffing was escaping.
    Knowing that she might have to wait for some time, Carol Ashton had brought a book, but in fact she had barely time to read one paragraph. The desk sergeant had recognised a woman who would get out ofhis hair when and only when she had what she came for.
    ‘Mrs Ashton? I’m DS Graffham. Will you come through?’
    Daft, Carol thought, to be surprised that it was a woman, but somehow in her mind, though there were plenty of WPCs, detectives were always men. Just as nurses were women.
    The room she was ushered into was no surprise of course – a dingy little featureless box with a metal table andtwo chairs, beige paint. You’d confess to anything just to be let out of it.
    ‘I understand you are very concerned about an employee who has not been into work for a few days?’
    She was pretty – elfin haircut, sharp features, big eyes.
    ‘Angela – Angela Randall. Only that sounds wrong –
employee
.’
    DS Graffham glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of her. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve only just seenthe information …’
    ‘Oh yes, she
is
an employee. She works for me, it justsounded a bit bleak. I have a good relationship with all my staff.’
    ‘I understand – official forms. OK, let’s start again. Tell me everything about Angela Randall … but before you do, can I get you a hot drink? I’m afraid it will have to come out of the dreaded machine.’
    She will go far, Carol Ashton thought, stirringthe tea round with the plastic stick that bore no resemblance to a spoon. At least I hope she will. I hope someone doesn’t see her as too concerned and too relaxed … too – yes, too interested. DS Graffham leaned back in her chair, arms folded, looking straight at her, waiting. She did indeed seem genuinely interested.
    ‘I run a care home for the elderly demented.’
    ‘Alzheimer’s disease?’
    ‘Thatpretty much covers it.’
    ‘I hope you know how needed you are. My grandmother died with it last year. The care she received was disgraceful. Where is the home?’
    ‘Fountain Avenue. The Four Ways.’
    ‘And Mrs Randall works there with you?’
    ‘Miss Randall. Angela. Yes. She’s been with us for nearly six years and on permanent night duty for the last four. She’s the sort of person you only dream of,frankly –