Frank Green, a hospital cleaner, discovers dark and mysterious happenings at a local hospital. Now, he is nowhere to be found. Join Inspect Ruth Oakwood of London's Metropolitan Police as she examines his letters to find out what happened in this ho...
It's lovely to hear how you and your family enjoyed Christmas; it sounds idyllic! I was hoping you wouldn't ask about my celebrations, as they were too quiet for my liking. I simply can't justify spending money while I still have debts to settle. Aside from attending Church, I spent a couple of hours serving lunch at the Royal Legion. It would be nice to claim this was for altruistic reasons, but it was mainly in the hope of seeing familiar faces. While there, I managed to wrap some turkey in some newspaper and smuggle it out for Claude.
Your present is fascinating, thank you! In fact, I've almost finished reading it already! Isn't it funny how we bought each other the same book? Even six months ago, if you'd asked whether I would enjoy reading about the occult, I would have dismissed the idea, but it's grown on me.
Not as something I hold true, you understand, but there is something darkly fascinating about it.
After I confessed to you in my last letter, guards are now stationed round the clock by the entrance to the research ward. This means I spend roughly an hour of each shift in the line of sight of an unmoving, silent figure standing in the gloom at the far end of the corridor. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, and time crawls by, but I'm just grateful to have kept my job.The other significant change is I learned from Dr. Voigt (Dr. Perez is away visiting family) that Smethwick is the heir to a fortune and that his family came to collect him last night to pay for private care at the comfort of his estate. While it isn't unusual to find rooms no longer occupied due to overnight discharges, I was disappointed to not be able to say goodbye. I hope he gets the help he deserves and that I'll bump into him someday.
His sudden departure surprised me for two reasons. Firstly, if his family is so wealthy, why have they only come to move him now? Secondly, his recent behaviors suggest a deterioration rather than somebody on the mend and ready to be discharged. These concerns were heightened when, later that same day, a young doctor I hadn't seen before informed me cheerfully that Smethwick had been moved to the research ward for some "cutting-edge treatment" and would doubtless be back soon.
Hearing this chilled me, not just because at least one of those doctors can't be telling the truth, but also because there is something deeply unnerving about the research wing. Every day, four cleaning staff arrive in their van during my lunch shift and leave within the hour. All four are covered from head to toe like plague doctors, including boots, gloves, and those horrid bird-like masks. Perhaps most unsettling is that they softly hum a slow minor-key tune together while they load barrels into the van. I'm never within sixty yards, but the smell is unlike any I have experienced: a sharp, fetid stench as if something is rotting or fermenting. Do you have a team like this at your hospital in the States?
Please pass on my best wishes to your family,
Frank
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