The Truth About Celia Frost by Paula Rawsthorne

Author:Paula Rawsthorne
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781409537663
Publisher: Usborne Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Frankie began to wonder how he was going to get back to his hotel. He was having trouble even remembering the name of it. He contemplated ordering another whiskey but saw the barman eyeing him up with a look that said, Don’t even think about it.

He laid his head down on the beer-soaked bar. That felt better. The room wasn’t spinning so much now.

“I hate this case,” he muttered to himself. “Seeing her like that was like being handed the winning lottery ticket, then losing it.”

What more could he do? He’d already gone back to the American diner to ask whether they knew anything about the kids, but they’d never seen them before today. He’d even gone and enquired in the sports shop, but they were a dozy lot who couldn’t even remember her coming in.

His head was throbbing from going over and over the conversation he’d heard; trying to remember every word, hoping that there’d be some clue. But what had he learned? That the girl liked punk, that her mum was drinking too much, that the boy had dodgy brothers who worked in a pub. So what! There were hundreds of pubs in the city and he didn’t even know the boy’s name. Then there was that bit about the boy saving her life and showing her the best place on earth. Well, you had to take that with a pinch of salt. Frankie knew how girls exaggerated. He reckoned that the “best place on earth” could be any old dump she had some romantic idea about. And then they were going to swim, but so what? What should he do – hang around in all the local leisure centres and get accused of being a pervert again? No! It was ridiculous. He could waste months chasing up one dead end lead after another.

His mobile rang and he fumbled around in his pockets for it. Nemo flashed up on the screen.

No way am I answering that, Frankie thought to himself. What am I going to tell her? “Well, madam,” Frankie rehearsed, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I’ve seen the girl, but I lost her and haven’t got a clue where she’s gone.” Yes that was bound to go down well.

He waited until the phone stopped ringing and tried to negotiate climbing off the bar stool. It had been a lot easier getting on it, but now the floor kept moving. He’d had enough of this case. It was affecting his health. For weeks now he’d been living off substandard cakes and fast food. He missed the delicious pastries from the bakery below his office; he missed his favourite takeaways that he lived off when he was home. He was sick of the dingy hotel room with its lumpy mattress. He longed for his own bed in his bachelor pad. No one could ever describe Frankie’s flat as homely, and it lacked a certain level of cleanliness, but it had all the necessities of life:

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