him. They stole our car. He's bleeding to death."
"Shot? Who's been shot?" Lambert clicked his fingers urgently to gain Sergeant Wells' attention.
"My husband. There's blood everywhere."
"Where are you?" He signalled for Wells to listen in on the other earpiece.
"They shot him . . . They stole our car . . ." She again broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.
Lambert tried to calm her. "We can help you, madam, but we must know where you are."
"The public call box . . . corner of Forest Road . . ."
"Is that where your husband is?"
"No—but I can take you to him."
Wells put down the earpiece and dialled for an ambulance.
"Wait there, madam," said Lambert. "Don't leave the phone box . . . an ambulance is on its way." He hung up and radioed the message to Liz Maud.
As Detective Inspector Maud drove towards Denton Woods, an area car, siren blaring, roared past in the opposite direction clearing the way for a following ambulance which had already picked up the victim and his wife. She swore softly. If she hadn't seen them she would have wasted precious time searching for them in the woods. She squealed the car into a tight U turn and tagged on behind the area car. Damn, damn, damn . . . She had played this all wrong. She should have asked Frost to take over the armed robbery so she could concentrate on the murder case. She'd put this in hand as soon as she got back to the station.
The grim shape of the Victorian Denton General Hospital loomed up ahead and the ambulance turned off down an 'Ambulances Only' lane, while the area car, Liz following closely, drove to a parking area near the main entrance. She skidded to a stop behind them and confronted them, eyes blazing, before they had a chance to get out of their car. "Next time you damn well let me know you've left the scene with the victim," she snapped.
The two men, PCs Baker and Howe, looked at each other in puzzlement. "We told the station," said Howe. "Sergeant Wells said he would let you know."
Wells! Bloody Wells, up to his tricks again. Her radio buzzed. This would be him, belatedly passing on the message, hoping that by now she was floundering in the woods. "Yes?" she snapped.
"Acting Inspector Maud—" began Wells.
She cut him short. "Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant, but it didn't work." She clicked off, still seething. "They'll be in Casualty," Howe told her, leading the way down the long echoing corridor.
"Fill me in," she said.
"Mr. and Mrs. Redwood—both in their seventies. They were driving back from a friend's house and as they went through Forest Lane they saw a man lying at the side of the road, another man bending over him waving to flag them down. They stopped, thinking the man was injured. Redwood switched off the engine and got out. The next thing he knew there's a shotgun stuck up his nose and they were demanding his car keys. Like a silly sod, Redwood makes a run for it, so this bloke calmly shoots him in the legs, grabs the keys, turfs out the old dear and they both drive off leaving the old boy bleeding and the old girl screaming."
"Was this before or after the armed robbery?" asked Liz.
"Before. They nicked the car to do the job."
Liz frowned. "Why nick it? What happened to their own car?"
Howe shrugged. "No idea. Perhaps it broke down."
"Then it's got to be in the woods, somewhere near where they ambushed the couple . . . Did you look?"
"No—our main concern was getting the old boy to the hospital."
"Well, he's here now . . . Get back there and look. I'll take over here."
They turned back to the main entrance as she followed the signs to 'Accident and Emergency' where, even at that late hour, there were several people, some the obvious victims of pub fights, waiting for attention. She drought she recognized a couple of them from the coachload of
"Shot? Who's been shot?" Lambert clicked his fingers urgently to gain Sergeant Wells' attention.
"My husband. There's blood everywhere."
"Where are you?" He signalled for Wells to listen in on the other earpiece.
"They shot him . . . They stole our car . . ." She again broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.
Lambert tried to calm her. "We can help you, madam, but we must know where you are."
"The public call box . . . corner of Forest Road . . ."
"Is that where your husband is?"
"No—but I can take you to him."
Wells put down the earpiece and dialled for an ambulance.
"Wait there, madam," said Lambert. "Don't leave the phone box . . . an ambulance is on its way." He hung up and radioed the message to Liz Maud.
As Detective Inspector Maud drove towards Denton Woods, an area car, siren blaring, roared past in the opposite direction clearing the way for a following ambulance which had already picked up the victim and his wife. She swore softly. If she hadn't seen them she would have wasted precious time searching for them in the woods. She squealed the car into a tight U turn and tagged on behind the area car. Damn, damn, damn . . . She had played this all wrong. She should have asked Frost to take over the armed robbery so she could concentrate on the murder case. She'd put this in hand as soon as she got back to the station.
The grim shape of the Victorian Denton General Hospital loomed up ahead and the ambulance turned off down an 'Ambulances Only' lane, while the area car, Liz following closely, drove to a parking area near the main entrance. She skidded to a stop behind them and confronted them, eyes blazing, before they had a chance to get out of their car. "Next time you damn well let me know you've left the scene with the victim," she snapped.
The two men, PCs Baker and Howe, looked at each other in puzzlement. "We told the station," said Howe. "Sergeant Wells said he would let you know."
Wells! Bloody Wells, up to his tricks again. Her radio buzzed. This would be him, belatedly passing on the message, hoping that by now she was floundering in the woods. "Yes?" she snapped.
"Acting Inspector Maud—" began Wells.
She cut him short. "Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant, but it didn't work." She clicked off, still seething. "They'll be in Casualty," Howe told her, leading the way down the long echoing corridor.
"Fill me in," she said.
"Mr. and Mrs. Redwood—both in their seventies. They were driving back from a friend's house and as they went through Forest Lane they saw a man lying at the side of the road, another man bending over him waving to flag them down. They stopped, thinking the man was injured. Redwood switched off the engine and got out. The next thing he knew there's a shotgun stuck up his nose and they were demanding his car keys. Like a silly sod, Redwood makes a run for it, so this bloke calmly shoots him in the legs, grabs the keys, turfs out the old dear and they both drive off leaving the old boy bleeding and the old girl screaming."
"Was this before or after the armed robbery?" asked Liz.
"Before. They nicked the car to do the job."
Liz frowned. "Why nick it? What happened to their own car?"
Howe shrugged. "No idea. Perhaps it broke down."
"Then it's got to be in the woods, somewhere near where they ambushed the couple . . . Did you look?"
"No—our main concern was getting the old boy to the hospital."
"Well, he's here now . . . Get back there and look. I'll take over here."
They turned back to the main entrance as she followed the signs to 'Accident and Emergency' where, even at that late hour, there were several people, some the obvious victims of pub fights, waiting for attention. She drought she recognized a couple of them from the coachload of
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