Gone Too Soon by Scott Hunter

Author:Scott Hunter [Hunter, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2019-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘Five minutes, max.’ The nurse shot Moran a stern frown.

‘Right you are,’ Moran agreed. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘You’ll do better than that,’ she said. ‘You’ll stick to it, or else you’ll answer to me. That poor man’s been in the wars, right enough. The last thing he needs is an interrogation.’

Moran held both hands up in surrender. ‘Just a quick in and out, that’s all.’

She gave him a brief nod, but Moran detected the twinkle in her eye. Salt of the earth, his ma would have called her.

And it’s the likes of her that’s keeping the NHS afloat, that’s for sure…

His nostrils twitched as he entered the side ward. The combination of smells – the warm, electric scent of the purring machines, the tang of antiseptic mixed with the headier fragrance of stronger medication – always made him feel slightly nauseous.

The figure on the bed was lying very still, immobilised not just by trauma, but also by the tubes and various connections snaking from his limbs to the gently pulsing instruments at his bedside.

‘Mr Milton?’

Foolish to expect an immediate response. Moran went on. ‘My name is Moran. I’m from Thames Valley Police. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I need to ask you a few brief questions. Is that all right? The nurse will shoot me if I go over my allocated five minutes, so…’.

‘I’ll bet you didn’t find it.’

Moran was taken aback by both the swiftness of Milton’s response and the clarity of his speech. This guy was made of strong stuff, indeed he was.

‘Find what, exactly?’ Moran found that he was speaking in a near whisper, his ‘hospital’ voice. He cleared his throat, but Milton was already clarifying his opener.

‘The other CCTV cam. The hidden one.’

A spark of hope shot through Moran like a current from one of Milton’s machines. ‘What hidden cam, Mr Milton?’

‘I had it installed, to be certain, you see. Had a spate of shoplifting last year. Couple of threats, nothing new. Seen it all before. So, kept the main cam – the obvious candidate for thievery. All working, so it’s pukka. But I had a smaller one fitted too, just in case. Bet he didn’t find it.’

‘And where exactly is it located?’ Moran prompted, not that Milton required any prompting.

‘The Hockney print, to the right of the counter. Mini-cam through the wheel of the car to the left of the diving board.’

‘A picture,’ Moran said. ‘On the wall.’ And we missed it?

‘That’s the one. Footage goes straight to a hard disk set into the wall cavity just behind it.’

‘That’s very helpful – and very far-sighted of you, Mr Milton. I’ll get the team onto it, pronto.’

The nurse had appeared, hovering behind him like a bird of prey. Moran could feel her presence. He raised his hand. ‘Almost done, nurse. Mr Milton, can you recall anything about the man who attacked you?’

Milton coughed, cleared his throat, raised his head a little from the pillow.

‘Not a Brit, that much I can say. Polish maybe, from his accent, or somewhere else in Eastern Europe, I’d guess.

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