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

rummaged through it for a few moments, then returned bearing a passport. Annie opened it and saw the photo. It was the same person as in the picture on the mantelpiece. There were no stamps in the passport, which was only two years old. That meant he hadn’t been outside the EU.
    â€œHas anything out of the ordinary happened in your lives recently?”
    â€œNot that I can think of.”
    â€œDid you have an argument or anything like that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid he seem worried, frightened, nervous, anxious? Different in any way?”
    â€œNo, he was the same as normal. But you’re frightening me, asking all these questions.”
    â€œSorry, it’s just routine,” said Annie. “We have to ask if we’re to try and find him. Did he take the car?”
    â€œYes, of course. We can walk to church, but you need the car to drive up into the dale. Maybe that’s it! I wouldn’t be surprised if that old banger broke down somewhere. Maybe that’s where he is? Up on the moors in the middle of nowhere with a dead mobile and a clapped-­out car, hoping the AA might just happen to pass by.”
    â€œCan you tell me the number plate?”
    Alex told her and Doug Wilson noted it down. “It’s an old Peugeot. Dirty gray.”
    Alex was clutching at straws, Annie thought. Even if Michael Lane had been at home on Saturday night, there was still a better chance that he was now in a lorry helping ship a stolen tractor over to Albania than stranded on the moors in a clapped-­out Peugeot hoping for the AA to turn up. But Alex didn’t need to be told that. To Annie, Michael Lane was still a prime suspect, but to Alex he was a missing loved one. Somehow or other, Annie would have to sort all that out as gently as she could, or she risked losing any valuable cooperation she might need from Alex. It was a tricky balancing act.
    â€œCould Michael be with a friend?” Annie asked. “And I don’t mean a girlfriend. Do you know any of his mates?”
    â€œHe doesn’t really have very many. His life was pretty isolated when he lived up at the farm, you see, and since then, well, most of the friends he did have have moved away, and we’ve sort of spent most of our time together. We don’t socialize a lot. Going out can be expensive.”
    â€œYou never go out for a drink or anything? Or to a party?”
    â€œSometimes we go to the local for an evening out, if we can afford a sitter for Ian, but not very often. Neither of us is a big drinker, and we just enjoy our own company. It’s cheaper to get a few cans or a bottle of wine in and watch telly than it is to go out for the night. It sounds boring, I suppose, but we’re happy.”
    â€œCan you think of anyone else at all Michael might have communicated with?”
    â€œThere’s Keith, I suppose. He’s still here. They went to school together, and they meet up for a game of darts once in a while. But Keith hasn’t seen him. I phoned. Graham, too. He’s married to Angie, who’s my best friend, really. But Graham’s a photography nut, and he and Michael get along well. They go off taking photos at various scenic spots around the Dales every now and then. Graham’s been teaching Michael his way around a camera. As I said, Michael’s a natural in some ways, but he doesn’t know much about theory and techniques, or the history. I can’t say I do, either, but Graham does. There’s Morgan, too, I suppose. Michael works with him up on the farms sometimes. But I don’t like him. He’s too flash and full of himself. Wears a gold chain and has a spider tattoo on the side of his neck. Head shaved like one of those BNP types, though he isn’t. He’s half black. His dad’s from Barbados. And he’s always flirting with me.”
    â€œDoes Michael like him?”
    â€œThey work together, and they go for a pint together, too,