Free Unti Peter Robinson #22 by Peter Robinson

sometimes, after a day’s work. They get along all right. Talk about any work that might be coming up. Morgan’s managed to get Michael in on a ­couple of decent-­paying jobs, and vice versa, so I don’t suppose I should be so down on him.” She gave a little shudder and pulled a face. “You know, it’s just like, if you’re a woman, he makes you feel like a piece of meat.”
    â€œI know exactly what you mean,” said Annie. “I’ve met a few of those in my time. What kind of jobs do they do?”
    â€œAnything that comes along, really. Morgan does small removals, you know, houses and flats and stuff. He’s got a large van. Michael usually helps him out on jobs like that. They also do a lot of farmyard maintenance, like I said, roofing work, drainage ditches, helping bale hay for forage, that sort of thing. It’s really a matter of who you know, who you’ve worked for before, where you’ve got a good reputation.”
    â€œAnd this Morgan has a good reputation?”
    â€œI suppose he must have.”
    â€œCould he be the one who texted Michael about a job yesterday morning?”
    â€œIt’s likely,” said Alex. “It’s what he usually does. Last minute, as often as not.”
    â€œHave you rung Morgan?”
    â€œNo. I don’t know his number. But I know where he lives. He’s got a caravan at that site down by the river, you know, near Hindswell Woods.”
    â€œRiverview?”
    â€œThat’s the one.”
    â€œWell, it’s a start, I suppose,” said Annie, nodding toward Doug Wilson, who was busy scribbling in his notebook between stolen glances at Alex.
    â€œCan you give me Michael’s mobile number?” Wilson asked. “And tell me the full names and addresses of the friends you mentioned, Miss Preston, including this Morgan character? Phone numbers, too, if you have them. And do you have a recent photograph of Michael we can borrow?”
    â€œPlease, call me Alex,” she said, smiling.
    Annie could see that Doug was hers forever. He carefully wrote down the names and addresses, mostly just a street name, occasionally a telephone number Alex retrieved from her mobile’s contacts. It was enough to be going on with. Back at the station, they could put DC Masterson on it. Nobody could track down a name, address or phone number as fast as she could. “We’ll check again with them all,” said Annie. “Just in case. One of them might remember something he said, something that might not have seemed important at the time.”
    Alex disappeared into the other room and came back with a photo of Michael posing casually on the balcony, with the view of Eastvale spread out in the background. “That was taken two weeks ago,” she said. “I took it myself. You remember, that nice weekend near the end of last month?” She handed over the photo, then put her hands to her face. “Oh, God, what can have happened to him?”
    â€œI know you’re worried, Alex,” Annie said, “but I’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and there’s almost always no cause for concern. I bet you we’ll have Michael back home with you in no time.”
    â€œIt’s true,” added Doug Wilson. “Leave it to us. Is there anywhere you think he might have gone? A favorite place, a hideaway? You know, if he got upset about his father, or you had an argument or something? Somewhere he’d go to be alone, to think things over, feel safe and secure?”
    Annie thought it was a good question to ask, and she watched Alex as she worked her way through it and framed an answer.
    â€œI don’t really know. I mean, he always feels safe and secure here, with us. He doesn’t need an escape. We haven’t really had any fights, not serious fights where either of us has gone off alone. Michael does like long walks by himself, though. I