Free Night Fall by Frank Smith Page A

them,’ she explained when they sat facing each other in the living room. ‘I wasn’t too worried at first, when his boss phoned to ask where Dennis was, but after I’d phoned round and nobody had seen him, I rang the hospital, the ambulance people, then you. The car’s still here, and I’ve been up and down the road to ask if anybody saw him this morning – that was after I rang you – but nobody had.’
    â€˜And he’s how old, Mrs Moreland?’
    â€˜Thirty-two. Well, he’ll be thirty-three at the end of the month.’
    â€˜Has he been worried about anything recently? Has he said or done anything unusual? Is he taking any medication?’
    Joan shook her head to each question. ‘No,’ she said impatiently, ‘and they asked me all that when I rang to report him missing.’
    â€˜If you’ll just bear with me, Mrs Moreland. I know this must be worrying for you, but the more information we have, the better. You mentioned his boss. Where does Mr Moreland work?’
    â€˜He works for SuperFair down the bottom of the road. He’s a butcher. I mean, what could have happened to him between here and there?’ Joan Moreland’s eyes were suddenly moist.
    â€˜I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation and your husband will turn up,’ Lowry said soothingly. He continued doggedly through the standard list of questions. Names and addresses of friends and relatives. The name of Dennis’s boss. Places he might be. Had there been any trouble at work? And, as delicately as he could, the probing questions about the state of their marriage.
    â€˜We’re a very happy family,’ Joan said tartly, ‘and I resent the implication that we’re not. Dennis is a good husband and father, so if you’re suggesting—’
    â€˜But I’m not,’ a now red-faced Lowry broke in hastily. ‘I have to ask those questions, Mrs Moreland. It’s routine. Honestly.’ He rose to his feet. ‘And we will do everything we can to find your husband. But before I go, I’d like to take a look around the house, if you don’t mind?’
    Joan Moreland bristled. ‘What for?’ she demanded. ‘Do you think Dennis is hiding somewhere? I told you, he left the house to go to work.’
    â€˜It’s standard procedure,’ he said weakly. ‘It’s—’
    â€˜I know,’ she broke in wearily as she got to her feet, ‘it’s routine. So what do we do now?’
    â€˜Perhaps we could start upstairs,’ Lowry suggested. ‘And do you have a greenhouse or a garden shed?’
    Paget stayed late that evening to catch up on his own work. Not only was Amanda Pierce new to the job, she was in a completely new environment, so there was a lot to learn in a short space of time. To be fair, she grasped things quickly, and reluctant as Paget was to give her credit for anything, he had to admit that she was working very hard. But he knew it must be frustrating for her to have to rely so heavily on him, knowing how he felt about her.
    He looked at the clock. Ten minutes to nine. Time to pack it in. Time, too, he told himself as he gathered up the files on his desk and locked them away for the night, to forget about Amanda Pierce, at least until tomorrow. But that was easier said than done.
    In spite of everything he knew about her, Paget couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the way Amanda was tackling her new job, but, as he kept reminding himself, that could never excuse what she had done to Matthew, and to Jill, when she disappeared without a word to anyone.
    Amanda had known Matthew as long as she and Jill had known each other, but because of the difference in their ages, it wasn’t until shortly before Jill and Paget were married that Amanda and Matthew started to take notice of each other. Suddenly, Matthew was no longer just Jill’s young brother, and sitting there