Chapter Eleven
BY THE NEXT DAY, THEY'd managed to turn up nothing on the cab firms and the hospital staff were extremely vague about precisely when Miss Parry had picked up her car, but that was about par for the course, Rafferty reflected wearily.
None of the staff, or those patients whom they'd so far spoken to, had admitted to knowing Linda, either. Nor, at the hospital or anywhere else, had anyone identified the girl in the pub from Smythe's photo fit—at least, they hadn't identified her to Rafferty, whatever they might have suspected privately, and he wasn't hopeful that anyone would.
That was why, when the telephone rang, he anticipated only further failures, especially when he heard Llewellyn's voice on the other end.
But incredibly, for once, the Welshman had a result for him.
