They had simply questioned him and let him go. “You did the right thing. Have you any idea at all where he might go? Any friends or anything?”
“No. I’ve already phoned all his colleagues at school and from the theater. They don’t know where he is, either. They said he didn’t show up for last night’s performance.”
“But he was there for the matinee?”
“Yes. It ended about half past four. Maria said he left the theater, and she just assumed he was coming home for tea. But he never turned up. I don’t know where he went.”
“Does he have any relatives nearby?”
“An uncle and aunt in Shipley. But he wouldn’t go there. He hasn’t seen them in years. And he’s got an aunt in Liverpool, but she’s in a home.”
“So he disappeared after the Sunday-afternoon matinee?”
“That’s right.”
“Is his car gone?”
“As far as I know. It’s not parked on our street, at any rate.”
“You’d better give me some details.” Annie noted down what Wyman had been wearing, along with the make, color and number plate of the car he was driving.
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“Something must have happened to him,” Carol went on. “I think it was something to do with those people who came.”
“What people?” Annie asked.
“Late yesterday afternoon, while Derek was at the theater. A man and a woman. They were something to do with the government.
Anyway, they were a bit abrupt. Pushy. Wanted to know all sorts of things, personal things. Wouldn’t tell me why. And they went through the house from top to bottom. Took some stuff with them. Papers, photographs, Derek’s computer with all his school and theater work on it. They gave me a receipt, mind you.” She showed it to Annie. It was a sheet of paper listing the items taken. The signature was illegible.
“They took those family photographs, too, from the sideboard?”
“Yes. They do work for the government, don’t they? I haven’t been stupid, have I? I haven’t been burgled? I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”
“No,” said Annie. “They are who they say they are.” Not that that helps at all, she thought. “You haven’t been stupid. Did Derek know about this visit?”
“He can’t have done. He was at the matinee.”
Unless he’d been on his way home and seen them from the end of the street, Annie thought. That might have caused him to do a runner.
“His mobile wasn’t working,” Carol went on. “Maybe it was the battery. He’s always letting the battery run down. Maybe he’s seeing another woman?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Annie, hardly sure what was the worst conclusion Carol Wyman could jump to: that something had happened to her husband, or that he had run off with another woman.
“But what can have happened to him?”
“I’m going to the station to report him missing and see about initi-ating a search,” said Annie. “If I do it, they’ll have to listen. In the meantime, if there’s anything else you can think of, don’t hesitate to phone me again.” Annie stood up. “My boss might want to have a word with you about those two people who came to visit.”
“The government people?”
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“Yes.”
“Why? Do you really think they have something to do with all this?”
“I don’t know anything at the moment,” Annie said, “but I shouldn’t think so. There’s probably a simple explanation. Let me get working on it.” She paused. “Carol, you seem . . . well, you’re in a dreadful state. Is there someone . . . ?”
“I’ll be all right. Honest. You go. Do what you have to do to find my Derek. The kids are at school. I thought it best to send them off, just like normal. There’s Mrs. Glendon next door. She’ll stay with me for a while. Don’t worry.”
“Just as long as you’re okay. I won’t be far away, remember. And if you hear anything . . .”
“I’ll phone you right away. Oh, I do hope he’s all right.
“Don’t worry,” said Annie. “We’ll find him.”
T H E R E WA S more than a little tension in the boardroom, Banks sensed, as the Major Crimes squad congregated around the impressive varnished oval table under the disapproving stares of the Victorian wool barons, whose portraits in oils hung on the walls. Rain snaked down the broad sash windows and hammered against the slates on the roof, dripping from the blocked gutters and gurgling down the old drainpipes. So much for summer.
“Right,” said Gervaise, standing and leaning forward with her palms resting on the table. She was in true fighting form; it was time to chuck around some blame and see where it stuck. “I notice that DI Cabbot hasn’t seen fit to join us yet, but let’s get straight down to business. It’s wrap-up time. We’ll start with you, DS Jackman.”
