Marriage and a girl’s age were the two things that never made much difference to most men, Winsome remembered from the number of passes she had evaded when she worked at the hotel. “Weren’t you ever tempted?” she asked. “All those pretty young girls around, F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
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hanging on your every word. Surely they develop crushes on you sometimes? It’s only natural, you being a teacher and all.”
“You learn to deal with it.”
Winsome paused, then asked, “Would you mind telling me where you were on Saturday night?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
“All right.” Austin glared at her. “I was at home.”
“Where’s that?”
“Raglan Road.”
“Near the town center?”
“Yes. Not far.”
“You didn’t go out at all?”
“I went to The Mitre on York Road for a couple of pints between about nine and ten.”
“Anyone see you?”
“The usual locals.”
“Then what?”
“I went back home. There was nothing that interested me on TV, so I watched a DVD.”
“What DVD?”
“An oldie.”
“They’re often the best. Film happens to be one of my passions.
When it came to a career, it was a toss-up between that and the travel business. I suppose I chose the more practical course.”
“But you didn’t go into the market square?”
“On a Saturday night? Do you think I’m crazy?” Austin laughed. “I value my life more than that.”
Winsome smiled. “We do have a bit of a problem, you see, sir. We know that Hayley wasn’t expected home on Saturday, and she wasn’t planning on going to the Bar None with her friends. She had somewhere mysterious to go, and nobody seems to know where it was.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t coming to see you?”
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“Why would she do that? And why would I want a drunk and immature teenager in my house?”
Winsome could think of plenty of reasons, most of which would make her blush to say out loud, but she decided it was best to leave Austin to think of them himself. Instead, she ended the interview and walked out of the office, making a mental note of her reservations.
She wasn’t at all certain that she believed him about his relationship to Hayley, but without evidence there wasn’t much she could do.
As she walked down the stairs, a skinny long-haired male student she vaguely recognized was on his way up. He paused as they passed each other and glanced at her in an odd way. At first she thought it was because of her color. She got that all the time, especially in a place like Eastvale that wasn’t exactly high in its immigrant population.
Only when she had reached the street did she realize it was something else. Recognition? Fear? Guilt? He had been one of the people with Hayley in the market square just before she disappeared down Taylor’s Yard. Winsome was certain of it. One of the people DC Wilson hadn’t traced and talked to yet, as far as she knew.
B A N K S WA S running late. He dressed hurriedly after his shower, went downstairs, grabbed his travel mug of coffee and jumped into the Porsche. Once he was on the unfenced road crossing the desolate moors, he plugged in his iPod. The shuff le started with Neko Case’s
“That Teenage Feeling.” He checked the dashboard clock and realized he should make it to Annie’s by nine-thirty, barring no unforeseen traffic problems when he hit the A roads.
He still felt stunned and puzzled by her behavior of the previous eve ning. He had half expected a phone call of apology, and had stayed up late waiting, drinking more wine and listening to Miles Davis’s
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