Read Online Unti Peter Robinson #22 by Peter Robinson - Free Book Online Page A

guv?” said Winsome.
    Banks looked at her, at the blood on the ground, then back at Jazz.
    â€œIt’s your decision,” Jazz said. “But you know as well as I do that a positive in this test usually means human blood.”
    â€œYes,” Banks said, after a brief pause. “Yes, I really think we should.” He felt the tremor of excitement start to dislodge the lazy, relaxed feeling he had been enjoying over the past few days. He wasn’t sure that he didn’t like this frisson more.
    â€œWE’LL DO our best to help you,” Annie said, “but you have to remember that Michael isn’t officially listed as a missing person yet, so we can hardly pull out all the stops. He’s nineteen, and he’s only been away from home for one night.”
    â€œYou’d pull out all the stops if it was Ian.”
    Both Annie and Doug Wilson gave her puzzled looks. “Well, yes, of course we would,” Annie said.
    Alex paused, seeming to understand the implications of what Annie had said, and of her own faux pas. “Of course you would. A child. Forgive me. It’s just me opening my mouth before my brain’s engaged. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m beside myself with worry.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” said Annie. “I can understand your distress, especially if you say he hasn’t done anything like this before. I’m not saying we won’t look for him. We will. After all, we’d like to talk to him ourselves, so that’s a bit of extra motivation, if you like. A touch of self-­interest never goes amiss.”
    Alex nodded. “All right.”
    â€œLet’s get back to Sunday morning,” said Annie. “What time did Michael leave the flat?”
    â€œHe went out at about half past nine. Ian and I were just getting ready for church—­well, Ian’s in Sunday school.”
    â€œMichael doesn’t usually go with you?”
    â€œMichael’s not religious. I can’t really say I am myself, but I do find a bit of comfort in it sometimes. And it’s tradition, a habit, isn’t it? I mean, my mum and dad used to take me to Sunday school when I was little. Those are good memories. I loved the Bible stories and illustrations. Ian seems to like them, too.”
    â€œDid Michael receive or make any texts or phone calls that Sunday morning?”
    â€œHe got a text just before he went out. I was getting Ian ready, but I heard it, you know, that tinkling sound the phone makes when a text comes in.”
    â€œDid he tell you who it was from?”
    â€œNo. He just said that there might be a job on.”
    â€œOn a Sunday morning? Doing what?”
    â€œHe didn’t say.”
    â€œDid he say who with?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut he said he might drop in on his father later?”
    â€œYes. His dad’s been unwell lately. And Michael’s a good son, despite their differences. There was a cancer scare, but it turned out to be his gallbladder. He still had to have an operation. His health’s been a bit fragile lately, and he’s been a bit depressed. And he frets so about the farm. I mean, they have their problems, right, but they get on OK most of the time, as long as they avoid certain subjects—­like me, and what Michael thinks he’s doing with his life.”
    â€œSounds like most of us,” said Annie. “Then what?”
    â€œHe kissed me and Ian, like he usually does, then he left.”
    â€œDid he have any money with him?”
    â€œHe usually carries a bit of cash, but he’s very careful with the credit and debit cards. We both hate the idea of being in debt and paying interest.”
    It didn’t matter how careful he was, Annie thought. If he used them, they’d be able to find out where, should it come to that. “Does he have a passport?”
    Alex walked over to the sideboard drawer and