Wexford 19 - The Babes In The Woods Read Online Free PDF

place he wanted to be. ‘I went over to her house. No one was there. I went next door and the woman there said she hadn’t seen Joanna since Friday.’
       That meant very little. A neighbour isn’t always aware of the comings and goings of the people next door. Wexford said, 'and then?’
       Katrina had assumed the vacant look and glazed eyes of a member of the local drama group playing Lady Macbeth in the sleepwalking scene. ‘It was while my husband was out that I looked out of the window. I hadn’t looked out before. I saw a devastating sight. You can see all the floods from here, like a great sea, an ocean. I could hardly believe my eyes but I had to, I had to. That was when I knew my children must be out there somewhere.’
       In the calmest, steadiest voice he could muster, Wexford said, ‘The frogmen have resumed their search, Mrs Dade, but what you suggest is very unlikely. The floods are quite a distance from here and nowhere in Kingsmarkham are they more than four feet deep. The search has moved to the Brede Valley, three miles away at the nearest point. Unless Giles and Sophie are great walkers or Ms Troy is, I find it hard to see why they should go near the Brede.’
       ‘None of them would walk anywhere if they could help it,’ said Dade.
       Katrina looked as if he had betrayed her and she withdrew her hand. ‘Then where are they?’ she appealed to the two policemen. ‘What has become of them?’ Then came the question Wexford had been anticipating, the question that always came from a parent in this sort of situation, and came early, ‘What are you doing about it?’
       ‘First we’ll need some help from you, Mrs Dade,’ said Vine. ‘Photographs of Giles and Sophie for a start. And a description. Some background - what sort of people they are.’ He glanced at Wexford.
       ‘A photograph of Ms Troy as well, if possible,’ the Chief Inspector said. And we have a few more questions. How did Ms Troy get here on Friday evening? By car?’
       ‘Of course.’ Dade was looking at him as if he’d questioned Joanna Troy’s possession of legs or as if every nor mal person knew human beings were born with motor vehicles attached, as it might be hair or noses. ‘Naturally, she came by car. Look, is this going to go on much longer? I’m late as it is.’
       ‘Where is her car now? Has she a garage at home?’
       ‘No. She leaves it parked on a kind of drive or pad in front of the house.’
       ‘And was it there?’
       ‘No, it wasn’t.’ Dade began to look a little ashamed of his recent scorn. ‘Would you like her address? I don’t know if we have a photograph?’
       ‘Of course we have a photograph.’ His wife was shaking her head in apparent wonder. ‘Not have a photograph of my very dearest friend? Darling, how could you think that?’
       How he could Dade didn’t explain. He went into another room and came back with two photographs which he removed from their silver frames. They were of the children, not their sitter. The girl looked like neither parent. Her features were classical, almost sharp, her nose Roman, her eyes very dark, her hair nearly black. The boy was better looking than Roger Dade, his features more nearly corresponding to a classical ideal, but he looked as if he also might be tall.
       ‘Just topping six feet,’ said Dade proudly as if reading Wexford’s thoughts. Katrina had fallen silent. Her husband glanced at her, went on, ‘You can see they’re both got dark eyes. Giles has fairer hair. I don’t know what else I can tell you.’
       Some time, thought Wexford, you can explain what makes a good-looking, tall and far from deprived fifteen-year-old join something called the Good Gospel Church. But perhaps you won’t have to, perhaps we’ll have found them before that’s necessary. ‘Do you know’, he said to Katrina Dade, ‘the names of any close relatives of Ms Troy?’
       She was speaking dully now, though