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Martin managed a weak laugh. “I always like to dunk digestive biscuits in mine.” Then he leaned forward and became serious again. “But you’re not going to make me feel better by distracting me. What can we do? Where do we look? Where do we begin?”
“We’ll do the looking. That’s what we’re here for. When did you first start to believe something was wrong?”
Martin looked at his wife. “When was it, love? After tea, early evening?”
Robin nodded. “He’s always home for tea. When he wasn’t back by after seven o’clock and we hadn’t heard from him, we started to get worried.”
“What did you do?”
“We tried to call him on his mobile,” Martin said.
“And what happened?”
“It was turned off.”
“Then what?”
“Well, about eight o’clock,” Robin said, “Martin went looking for him.”
“Where did you look, Mr. Armitage?”
“I just drove around Eastvale. A bit aimless, really. But I had to do something. Robin stayed home in case he rang or turned up.”
“How long were you gone?”
“Not long. I was back, oh, around ten.”
Robin nodded in agreement.
“Do you have a recent photograph of Luke?” A
Robin went over to one of the low polished tables and picked up a package of prints. She thumbed through them and handed one to A
“He insisted on visiting the Père Lachaise cemetery,” Robin explained. “That’s where all the famous people are buried. Chopin. Balzac. Proust. Edith Piaf. Colette. Luke’s standing by Jim Morrison’s grave there. Have you heard of Jim Morrison?”
“I’ve heard of him,” said A
“It’s fu
That placed her in her early forties, A
Yes, Robin Armitage looked as good as she had twenty years ago. A
“This’ll do fine,” said A
“The usual,” said Robin. “Black T-shirt and black jeans.”
“You say ‘the usual.’ Do you mean he always wears black?”
“It’s a phase,” said Martin Armitage. “Or at least that’s what his mother tells me.”
“It is, Martin. You wait; he’ll grow out of it. If we ever see him again.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Armitage. He’ll turn up. In the meantime, I’d like more information about Luke himself, anything you know about his friends, interests or acquaintances that could help us work out where he may be. First of all, was everything all right between you? Had there been any arguments recently?”
“Not that I can think of,” Robin answered. “I mean, nothing serious. Everything was fine between us. Luke had everything he wanted.”
“It’s been my experience,” said A
“I didn’t only mean material things,” said Robin. “As a matter of fact, Luke isn’t much interested in the things money can buy, except for electronic gadgets and books.” Her long-lashed blue eyes blurred with tears. “I meant that he has all the love we can give him.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said A
“Like what?” asked Robin.
“Something you didn’t approve of. A pop concert he wanted to go to. Friends you didn’t like him being with. That sort of thing.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. But I can’t think of anything. Can you, darling?”
Martin Armitage shook his head. “As parents go, I think we’re pretty liberal,” he said. “We realize kids grow up quickly these days. I grew up quickly myself. And Luke’s a smart lad. I can’t think of any films I wouldn’t want him to see, except for pornography, of course. He’s also a quiet, shy sort of boy, not much of a mixer. He keeps to himself.”
“He’s very creative,” Robin added. “He loves to read and he writes stories and poems. When we were in France, it was all Rimbaud, Verlaine and Baudelaire.”
A
“What about girlfriends?” A
“He never mentioned anyone,” said Robin.
“He might be embarrassed to tell you,” A
“I’m sure we’d have known.”
A
“True. He’s my stepson. But I’ve always thought of him as my own son. Robin and I have been married ten years now. Luke has our family name.”
“Tell me about Luke’s father, Mrs. Armitage.”
Robin glanced over at her husband
“It’s all right, darling,” Martin Armitage said. “It doesn’t bother me if you talk about him, though I can’t quite see the point of all this.”
Robin turned back to A
“Oh, I know who he was and what happened. I just don’t remember the details. He was a pop singer, wasn’t he?”
“A pop singer? He’d have been disgusted to hear himself called that. He thought of himself more as a sort of modern troubadour, more of a poet than anything else.”
From singer-songwriter to footballer, A
Robin glanced out of the window, where a large thrush had found a worm on the lawn, then sat down beside her husband. He took her hand as she spoke. “You’re probably thinking it seems like an odd combination,” she said. “But Neil was the first man not to treat me like a complete moron because of my looks. It’s difficult being… well, you know, looking like I did. Most men are either too scared to approach you or they think you must be an easy lay. With Neil, it was neither.”