Close To Home (aka The Summer That Never Was)

a car willingly, with someone he knew, someone local. But who? And why?

DC Collins returned with Michelle’s diet Coke. “No gateau, I’m afraid,” he said, “so I brought you a Danish instead.”

“Thanks,” said Michelle, who didn’t like Danish but paid him anyway, nibbled at it awhile, then dropped the rest in her waste bin and went back to her files. The Coke tin was cold and wet, so she pressed it against her flushed cheek and enjoyed the icy sensation, then she did the same with her other cheek and her forehead.

The police at the time didn’t neglect the possibility that Graham might have run away under his own steam, dumping the sack of papers somewhere and heading for the bright lights of London like so many young lads had in the mid-sixties, but they could find nothing at all to support this theory. His home life seemed happy enough, and none of his friends suggested that he was at all interested in running away from home. The sack was never found, either. Even so, missing persons reports went out all over the country, and there were the usual sightings, none of which amounted to anything.

The interviews also turned up nothing, and police checks into the records of several estate dwellers drew a blank. Michelle could read a little excitement between the lines when police discovered that one of the deliveries on Graham’s route was the house of a man who had served time for exposing himself in a local park, but subsequent interviews – no doubt involving some very rough business, knowing police methods of the time and Jet Harris’s reputation as a tough guy – led nowhere, and the man was exonerated.

Michelle slipped off her reading glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. At first glance, she had to admit that it seemed very much as if Graham Marshall had disappeared into the void. But she knew one thing that the police hadn’t known in 1965. She had seen his bones, and she knew that Graham had been murdered.

Annie Cabbot drove out to Swainsdale Hall mid-morning to tie up a few loose ends with the Armitages. The sun had come to the Yorkshire Dales at last, and wraiths of mist rose from the roadsides and the fields that stretched up the dale-sides. The grass was bright green after so much rain, and the limestone walls and buildings shone clean gray. The view from the front of Swainsdale Hall was magnificent, and Annie could see plenty of blue sky beyond Fremlington Edge, with only a few light fluffy clouds scudding by on the breeze.

The Armitages must be relieved, Annie thought as she got out of her car. Of course, they would be happier when Luke arrived back home, but at least they knew he was safe.

Josie answered the door and seemed surprised to see her. There was no sign of Miata this time, but Annie could hear the dog barking from the back of the house.

“Sorry I didn’t phone ahead,” Annie said. “Are they in?”

Josie stood aside and let Annie walk through to the same large living room she had been in yesterday. Only Robin Armitage was there this time, sitting on the sofa flipping through a copy of Vogue. She jumped to her feet when Annie entered and smoothed down her skirt. “It’s you again. What’s happened? Is something wrong?”

“Calm down, Mrs. Armitage,” said Annie. “Nothing’s happened. I came to see if you’re all right.”

“All right? Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be? Luke’s coming home.”

“May I sit down?”

“Please.”

Annie sat, but Robin Armitage stayed on her feet, pacing. “I’d have thought you’d be relieved,” Annie said.

“I am,” said Robin. “Of course I am. It’s just that… well, I’ll be a lot more settled when Luke’s back home again. I’m sure you understand.”

“Have you heard from him again?”

“No. Only the once.”

“And he definitely said he’s coming home today?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to talk to him when he gets back, if that’s all right.”

“Certainly. But why?”

“We like to follow up on these matters. Just routine.”

Robin stood up and folded her arms, making it clear that she wanted Annie to leave. “I’ll let you know the minute he’s back.”

Annie remained seated. “Mrs. Armitage, you told me yesterday that Luke said he needed some space. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Yes. You told me he’s a normal teenager, and there’s nothing wrong in the family, so why would he run off like that, worry the two of you half to death?”

“I hardly think that’s relevant now, do you, Detective Inspector Cabbot?” Annie turned to see Martin Armitage standing in the doorway, briefcase in hand. “Why are you here? What is it?” Despite his commanding presence, he seemed edgy to Annie, like his wife, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stood there, as if he had to go to the toilet.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just a friendly visit.”

“I see. Well, thank you for your efforts and your concern. We really do appreciate it, but I can see no point in your coming and badgering us with more questions now that Luke’s safe and sound, can you?”

Interesting choice of words, badgering, Annie thought. Most families wouldn’t see it that way, not with their son missing.

He glanced at his watch. “Anyway, I’m afraid I have to hurry off to a business meeting. It’s been nice to see you again, Inspector, and thank you again.”

“Yes, thank you,” echoed Robin.

Dismissed. Annie knew when she was beaten. “I was just leaving,” she said. “I only wanted to make sure everything was okay. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

“Well, as you can see,” said Martin, “everything’s fine. Luke will be back home this evening, and it will be as if none of this ever happened.”

Annie smiled. “Well, don’t be too hard on him.”

Martin managed a tight smile, which didn’t reach his eyes. “I was young once myself. I know what it’s like.”

“Oh, just one more thing.” Annie paused in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“You said Luke rang you last night.”

“Yes. And immediately afterward my wife rang you.”

Annie glanced at Robin, then back at Martin. “Yes, I appreciate that,” she said. “But I’m wondering why Luke’s call wasn’t intercepted. After all, the technician had set everything up, and we picked up your wife’s call to me.”

“That’s easy,” said Martin. “He called me on my mobile.”

“Did he usually do that?”

“We were supposed to be going out for dinner,” Martin explained. “As it was, we ended up canceling, but Luke wasn’t to know that.”

“Ah, I see,” said Annie. “Problem solved. Good-bye, then.”

They both bade her a perfunctory good-bye and she left. At the end of the drive, she turned right, toward Relton, and parked in lay-by just around the corner from the Armitages’ drive, where she took out her mobile and discovered that there was, indeed, a signal in the area. So Martin Armitage hadn’t been lying about that. What was it, then, that had given her the unmistakable feeling that something was wrong?

Annie sat for a moment in her car trying to figure out the meaning of the tension she had sensed in the room, not just between her and Robin, but between Robin and Martin. Something was going on; Annie only wished she knew what. Neither Robin nor Martin had behaved like a couple who had just heard that the son whose life they feared for was now safe and would soon be home.

When Martin Armitage’s Beemer shot out of the driveway spraying gravel a minute or two later, Annie had an idea. It was rare that she got to think or act spontaneously, as so much police work was governed by procedure, rules and regulations, but Annie was feeling reckless this morning, and the situation called for some initiative on her part.