Free Frozen Charlotte by Priscilla Masters

passing Spring Cottage, which had been Mary Webb’s home, Bobby, their Welsh Border Collie, giving little yaps of delight and straining on his lead. They climbed until they could see the Stretton Hills, Stiperstones and the distinctive, conical shape of the Wrekin. As she had anticipated Lyth Hill was full of sledgers and she watched them whoop and scream with a tinge of envy. Oh, for just one trip down the hill. They walked for a couple of hours, Sam striding ahead, Agnetha and Sukey arm in arm, chatting so vivaciously they hardly noticed where they were going, even taking a wrong turn a couple of times until Martha and Sam shouted them back. Martha took a few photographs, both of the snow scenes and her family and then they all trooped home to a Sunday roast, Sam sitting at the table, extolling the virtues of football and bemoaning all the games cancelled because of the freezing weather, Sukey and Agnetha being more useful, helping to peel the potatoes, lay the table and open a bottle of wine. It was a warm family day, always with that one person missing, but Martha was finishing with regrets now. It had taken her a long time but she was very much back to her old self.
    Talith detoured on the way back to the station to inspect the hospital car park. Alice was the owner of a Vauxhall Zafira. He’d checked the number plate on the PNC and drove towards the back of the hospital to the A&E entrance, easy to spot because of its red signs. Alice’s car was also easy to spot. Slewed across two parking spaces and with a ticket already on the screen, warning that the car must be removed – or else. Talith added one of his own: ‘Police Aware’. He’d get it taken in to forensics although he doubted they’d find much there. He tried the door. The car was unlocked, the keys still in the ignition. Lucky it was the Shrewsbury Hospital. Had it been Telford it would have been gone by now. He pocketed the keys and peered in. As he’d thought it was neat and tidy and there was nothing on the floor except . . .
    He slipped a glove on and picked up a child’s plastic rattle. The colours were pale and slightly faded. It didn’t look new. He shook it and heard little bells jingle.
    Jingle all the way, he thought, before replacing the rattle on the floor and locking the door. He had the feeling that no child had played with this for a while. It would have to be officially found – again – by the SOCOs but it posed another question. Had the rattle been found with the child? Or was it a contribution from Alice? Talith realized that in his mind he had all but solved the case. However long the child had been dead for, the estate agents could let them know who had lived there then and, ‘Bob’s your uncle, Talith,’ he muttered to himself.
    He made a quick call to the station to organize removal of the car and climbed back into his own. Talith was not normally a reflective man but this case was a learning curve for him. As he leaned forward and started the engine he mused that most cases were reduced to a random collection of odd, unconnected objects.
    Like the rattle.
    He returned to the station in time to see the recovery lorry setting out and gave them the keys.
    Wheels in motion, he thought with satisfaction.
    Two hours later he had finished his reports and was ready to go home to his own Sunday meal and put his feet up in front of the television.
    In the Palk household Justin and Acantha were finding it hard not to talk to their house guest about the subject which was occupying their minds.
    The trouble was that Acantha couldn’t seem to find a neutral subject. All topics led straight back to the one the three of them were struggling to avoid. Even if she asked a polite, innocuous question, like what exactly her daughter was doing these days, it always seemed to lead back to ‘Don’t tell her, Acantha. Don’t tell her.’
    In the end Acantha gave in. ‘Then tell me what happened.’
    ‘You already know what happened,’