Missing: Presumed Dead by James Hawkins

outfit, had drifted into the hallway and was hovering. The matron looked at her queryingly, as if expecting her to provide the answer, but was apparently disappointed in the blankness of the response. Am I missing something? wondered Bliss, and waited while the matron re-arranged her apron, her hair, and her face, while considering the prudence of her reply. “From what I understand Mrs. Dauntsey had been separated from the Major for sometime,” she answered with obvious disapproval. “She never spoke of him, not to me anyhow. Young Mr. Dauntsey said there was a distance between them.”
    â€œSo she wasn’t excited at the prospect of his visit?”
    â€œI got the impression she never really expected to see him again. I’m not aware she was expecting a visit. She certainly never said anything to me about it. Not that she would. Not her – not that one. Thinks she’s too good for us does Mrs. Dauntsey.”
    â€œHas her husband visited her since she’s been here?”
    â€œNot as far as I know ... There’s no need to look at me like that, Inspector. This isn’t a prison, you know. Our guests don’t have to get visiting orders; unlike yours.”
    â€œNo, no, I wasn’t being critical. I was just wondering why he should suddenly decide to visit. Maybe he was hoping to get a mention in her will.”
    â€œOh no. Mrs. Dauntsey doesn’t have much. That’s why she’s in here – if she had money she’d be in Golden Acres over at Fylingford.” She lowered her tone reverently, “That’s where all the moneyed people go – this is a council home. No – I think you’ll find it is the Major who has the money, not her.”
    â€œShe’s got cancer, I’m told.”
    â€œMrs. Dauntsey has Invasive Ductal Carcinoma,” she said with her nose in the air. “Nurse Dryden will take you to her in the day lounge, although I think it would be wise if only one of you should visit her – two hulking great men might be too much for her – scare her to death.”
    â€œDid I say something wrong?” he asked the nurse on the way to the day room.
    â€œNot really. It’s just that saying ‘cancer’ round here is a bit like calling a refuse disposal officer a ‘bin-man’ We try to avoid the word as far as possible – it frightens people.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œMrs. Dauntsey will be in her usual place,” continued the nurse, opening the door and steering Bliss toward a frail woman with parchment skin and white hair who immediately demonstrated her determination to guard her territory by picking her handbag off the floor and cradling it to her chest. “I’ll leave you to it,” whispered the nurse, implying that she wished him luck.
    Dowding, slicking back his hair, slipstreamed the young nurse toward the kitchen with the promise of a hot coffee and the hope of something more stimulating, leaving Bliss to approach the newly widowed old woman. “Mrs. Dauntsey ...” he enquired with an overly patronising air.
    She viewed him warily. “What are you going to stick in me now?”
    â€œNo. I’m not a doctor. I’m a policeman ... I wonder if we could go somewhere private,” he added, aware of the anticipatory hush his presence had caused among the twenty or so inhabitants.
    â€œPrivate – in here?”
    â€œDo you have a room?”
    â€œDon’t worry about this lot,” she swept a frail arm around the room. “They’re all dead.”
    He looked: most were immobile, heads flopped, mouths agape. Some were staring at him – desperately hoping to find the eyes of a husband, brother or son, then looking ashamedly away as his eyes met theirs. He felt like the grim reaper, and some of them looked fearfully at him as if he were.
    â€œWhat d’ye mean – dead?” he questioned.
    â€œDead is what I mean,