DC Hammond parked as near to the Accident and Emergency entrance of Witchmoor General Hospital as he dared and went inside. Moggie Braithwaite had already been taken up to a ward and a harassed receptionist pointed him in the right direction between a telephone call and a worried relative.
Full dark had fallen and the last of the visitors had left as the young detective went up the stairs.
"Miss Braithwaite? A mild concussion," the charge nurse said. "She's already awake and seems okay, but we're keeping her in overnight until we can do a scan to make sure there's no hidden damage. She's in the small room to the left by the door."
DC Hammond followed the gesture and crossed the corridor to the room indicated. He opened the door. There was just a single, low light on.
It was a small room with only the one bed, one chair, the usual hospital bedside cabinet and a small TV on a bracket. The TV was off and the bed looked empty. Not being quite certain in the dim light, he crossed the room for a closer look. The bed was empty. Tommy's first thought was that Moggie Braithwaite had gone to the toilet but, if so, why turn out the light? He wandered back to the nursing station, where the charge nurse was still writing notes.
"The bed's empty?" the charge nurse repeated. "I expect she's in the toilet, though I didn't see her go past."
A tea trolley barged the swing doors open. "Last drinks," the Filipino woman said in a very local accent. "Ovaltine, Horlicks or tea?"
"Ovaltine, I think," said the charge nurse.
"Who let a cat on the ward?" the woman demanded.
"A cat?" The nurse said. "I haven't seen a cat." She sounded rather affronted, but the drinks lady didn't notice. DC Hammond, however, pricked up his ears.
"Big moggie." The woman said. "Ran out of the ward when I opened the doors to come in."