Frozen Charlotte by Priscilla Masters

mustn’t I? I’ll have coffee in my office,’ she said, then remembered something. ‘Oh, by the way, Jericho, do you know the number of a painter and decorator? I want to revamp my study and I’m terrible at decorating. It’ll take me from now right up to next Christmas.’
    ‘As it happens, ma’am,’ he said, ‘I do. I can give you the number of a very reliable person who can be trusted to do a neat job honestly.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Of course Jericho would know someone, she reflected. He knew everything. She copied the number down, resisting her assistant’s offer to set the whole thing up for her and went into her office to ring Alex Randall.
    She knew the number off by heart. She and Detective Inspector Randall had worked together on a number of cases. She liked him very much. He was professional, polite, private. An enigma.
    She dialled his office number. ‘Morning, Martha,’ he said.
    ‘From what Jericho has already told me this sounds a very odd case, Alex.’
    ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Odd and puzzling. Not least what this woman’s part was in the drama.’
    ‘Alice,’ she said slowly. ‘Alice Sedgewick. Have you met her yet?’
    ‘No. Sergeant Talith has and thinks she’s very strange. A bit weird and disturbed.’
    ‘But presumably not a child killer? Does he think she’s responsible for the child’s death?’
    ‘Well, apart from a few points which have puzzled him I can’t see how she could have been. It really depends on how long the baby has been dead for and I have the feeling we won’t be able to pin the pathologist, Mark Sullivan, down to a precise number of years. Alice has lived at The Mount for five years. Delyth Fontaine’s opinion is that the baby has been dead for longer than that. So, if Mrs Sedgewick was responsible for the child’s death, she would have to have brought the body with her when they moved into The Mount. I suppose the body would have to have been kept in the same environment or its condition would have deteriorated.’
    ‘Delicately put, Alex.’ She wanted to ask what points exactly had puzzled Paul Talith but knew she would have to wait. ‘If she had done that why suddenly would she lose her rag and come up to the hospital with it?’
    ‘I don’t know. Maybe something she had hidden from her husband? Something to with the proposed loft conversion?’ He gave a dry chuckle. ‘There are plenty of questions to be answered.’
    Martha agreed. ‘Well whatever we’ll have to have a post-mortem if only to find out whether the infant was born dead or alive. Can we see if Mark Sullivan is available to do a post-mortem? Today if possible.’
    ‘Do you want to attend, Martha?’
    ‘I think I ought to, although I’ve a ton of work ahead of me. Winter really is the season of death, isn’t it? Luckily,’ she added hastily, ‘most of them from natural causes. But I have a nasty feeling that this will become a cause célèbre. It’s just the sort of sticky mystery that makes a good headline – better than the economy or the deaths of our troops abroad. And definitely better than the secret date of the election. If the press start sniffing around let me know, won’t you? And let me know as soon as you have a time for the PM? I’m available all afternoon.’
    ‘Will do.’
    ‘As the A&E department at the hospital is such a public place we’re not going to have a hope of keeping this quiet. It might be an idea if you made a brief statement to the press and kept them informed. It’ll at least minimize their tendency to make up an entire story. Let’s try and get them to stick to the facts.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘It strikes me that behind this little drama is a tragedy, some woman in desperate straits. Let’s not make it worse for her whoever she might be.’
    ‘Right. I agree.’ He paused. ‘Family well?’
    ‘Yes, thank you. Yours?’
    It was something she’d never done, made any comment about his family, enquired about them. She didn’t even