Emeralds to die for!

I wonder if anyone who reads this is fed up with me mentioning my latest Thomas Radwinter book which for some reason I’m having massive difficulty editing. It’s not complicated, it’s really just cutting out extra words, tightening everything up, checking for errors and muddles – the usual, but I don’t seem to be making much progress (as I’ve mentioned several times before). As usual, there are several story-lines, a husband who disappeared – maybe swept away by a rough sea on a stormy night, Francine – an elderly lady who vanishes leaving her beloved dog with a neighbour, an abandoned hotel where some very dodgy characters are hiding out – oh and the ordinary domestic ups and downs a big family might have.

Thomas and his friend Livia have traced the old lady to the local hospital, the ideal place for an elderly person to hide amongst the dozens of other elderly folk. Thomas and Livia have been trailing round the different departments, hoping to find her.

Anyway, back to Francine, where the heck is the old gal?
This was a hopeless task; even if she was hiding here, there was only the slimmest chance of us finding her among all the similar looking old souls. For all we knew she might be tucked up in a bed somewhere and stringing the staff some line – she was good at that.
I was persevering because Livia had been so disappointed and had obviously felt very foolish. At what point should I say we’d done enough? I couldn’t spend all day aimlessly searching for someone I’d never met, who might now be in disguise. I’d lost track of which department this was, but the waiting area seemed full of grey haired old people. What’s a collective noun for old folk? A greybie? A smoke?
Livia returned from the enquiry desk and reported back as I looked at the sea of grey and white heads.
“Emeralds to die for!” I whispered.
I beg your pardon?” Livia was totally baffled, as well she might be.
“Don’t turn round, but I think we’ve found her!” I murmured.
I’d been looking at the ranks of grey heads and spotted a small bird-like lady. What had caught my attention was that she had her scarf round her face as if she had toothache, and attached to a visible ear was a quite splendid emerald earring. I recalled one of the old gals in the village describing Francine and mentioning that she had wonderful earrings, including a pair with emeralds to die for.
Livia gave me such a look of excitement that I made a snap decision, an idea springing into my head from nowhere.
“Livia, I’m going to leave you to go and talk to her. This pursuit of her can’t continue. If Amanda is concerned then she needs to go to the police – and I know you said Francine is afraid of the police, well I have a contact she can speak to. Whatever you say to her, I support you completely. I trust you to make the right decision. I’ll go back to the café by the entrance; message or ring me, or rendezvous with me however it plays out. If you need any money for any reason tell me and I’ll zap some into your account. Now, I’m going to send a photo for you to show Francine, which I hope will make her trust you.”
I pointed out Francine with her emerald earrings and sent Livia a photo of Francine’s dog Tony. She smiled, gave a slight nod then went to accost our quarry.