If I Should Die (Joseph Stark) by Matthew Frank Read Free Book Online Page B

close attention to what they were doing, she noted, still new to life on this side of the police tape. She studied him for a moment.
    Stillness, she thought. He had a way of appearing motionless as the world moved around him, a rock in a stream, unaware or unconcerned for the turbulence it cast. Eventually the stream would wear it down. She looked for outward signs of anger but saw little. He had to be angry, she thought, looking at the mess, furious. From his perspective this was desecration. Perhaps there was a kind of frozen sternness; it was hard to tell. She shook her head. Pity the Juliet to his Romeo. Perhaps aloof was unfair: he could be friendly enough, in his way. He
was
an oddity, though. Perhaps her prejudice against all the homecoming-hero nonsense was getting in the way of figuring him out.
    She asked Dixon and two more uniforms to walk the route to the Ferrier Estate to look for more evidence of the gang passing. From the memorial they could cut across the heath and zigzag along a few roads to the estate. Thinking about Stark’s initiative, she also asked Dixon to speak with the estate’s embattled off-licence.
    Her phone rang. She answered and listened with rising annoyance. ‘Yes, I’ll tell him.’ She beckoned Stark over. ‘That was Hammed. Apparently a Captain Pierson has been pestering the switchboard for you. Could you please return her calls ASAP, et cetera.’ Stark lookedawkward, but also something else – annoyed? A chink in the armour. ‘We don’t encourage private calls at work,’ said Fran, pointedly. She didn’t like being his messenger girl. Admin had yet to supply him with a phone. It wasn’t his fault, but calls from a neglected Juliet were. ‘Need to use my phone?’ she offered.
    ‘It can wait, Sarge,’ he replied levelly.
    Fran caught Stark checking his watch at the end of the day. ‘Somewhere you’d rather be?’
    ‘Hospital appointment, Sarge. It’s on the schedule,’ he added, as her frown deepened. They were expected to do overtime in the crucial early stages of an investigation. She could demand he stay.
    ‘What is it this time?’
    ‘More physio.’ Two half-truths.
    She paused. ‘Clear off, then.’
    The Gosport physios had referred Stark for hydrotherapy but the nearest facility had closed. The same proved true in Greenwich. The Carter Orthopaedic Hospital in Dulwich was a private charity and more than happy to mop up NHS overflow. The cabbie was honest and Stark arrived early, so the friendly receptionist directed him to the well-stocked tea and coffee machine, free, with a selection of biscuits. ‘You’re not in Kansas any more,’ he said to himself, as he settled into an armchair with his book.
    ‘Mr Stark? They’re ready for you now. Turn right down the corridor and follow the blue signs.’ She smiled. You got the odd smile in the NHS but mostly harassed exasperation. This one smiled because she was nice and had time. It was almost disconcerting.
    He was greeted by a short, round, grey-haired woman with an easy grin that wrinkled her whole face. ‘Lucy,’ her badge declared. ‘Hop in there and change, dear. Just your gym kit for the moment so we can do our initial assessment. Pool work later. I’m off now but Kelly will be through in a mo. Good luck.’ It was a cheerful farewell rather than a ‘you’re doomed’, but Stark still felt an odd tweak of trepidation. He stepped out of the cubicle, expecting another Lucy, but was pleasantly surprised to see a girl his age or younger with dark-brown hair, blue eyes, a pretty face and a figure to make anyone with a clinical-uniform fetish die on the spot.
    ‘Something the matter?’ she asked, glancing up from some notes. He shook his head and managed a smile. ‘Quite the rap sheet you’ve got here, Constable. Or are you still a corporal?’
    ‘Yes and no. Joe will do fine.’
    She continued scanning through the file, occasionally glancing up at him, or parts of him. ‘How did you find hospital