By the time they were parked, both of them out of the truck, the policeman had been joined by a thickset man in plain clothes, who introduced himself as DS Stagg, of West Mercia Police. They wanted Robin’s name and address and the address of the shop. They wanted to know what time he’d parked yesterday and why he hadn’t gone home last night. A group of other police had gathered some distance away, watching them. Betty began to get concerned, Robin was just getting irritated.
‘The fuck’s this about?’
‘Please don’t swear at me, sir,’ DS Stagg said. ‘Just tell us why you left your vehicle here all night.’
The police were starting to spread out in a casual half-circle. Betty started to feel a little nervous. Robin was leaning against the box of the truck. He looked awful. He was sweating.
‘My husband has orthopaedic problems,’ Betty said.
Wrong. Why would she just say that? Stagg looked at her.
‘Were you with your husband last night?’
‘I… no. I had to stay at home all yesterday. We’re selling our house. I had to show some people round. What’s all this about? What’s happened?’
‘Why didn’t you go back home to your wife last night, sir?’
‘Because…’ Robin closed his eyes on an indrawn breath ‘… because I guess I’d had too much to drink.’
The cops looked at one another. A fair-haired man in a soft leather jacket was moving close enough to listen to everything. Betty stared at Robin. Robin’s smile was strained with incredulity and back pain, his hair sweated to his forehead.
‘I figured I was doing the responsible thing, you know?’
‘You’re saying you were drunk?’
‘I’m saying I had cause to believe I was over the alcohol limit for being on the road.’
‘Where were you drinking?’
‘Uh… Gwenda’s Bar? Down by the clock? I was with some booksellers. We’re opening a bookstore here.’
‘So there are people who will vouch for you being there until… when? What time did you leave Gwenda’s Bar?’
‘I don’t entirely recall. Eleven?’
‘And where did you go then?’
‘I… just kind of walked around, to sober up? Then I went to our… bookshop in Back Fold, and… No, hell, I came back to the truck.’
‘You came back here, late at night.’
Betty listened to Robin explaining how he’d come to fetch an old coat and some sacks to use as bedding, so he could spend the night in the shop. She could have wept. Could tell the police weren’t believing any of it, and she was hoping to all the gods that Robin would not even attempt to explain why he was so determined to spend the night in Back Fold.
When he stopped talking, there was silence. He stared hard at the cops, backed up against the tailgate of the truck.
‘OK. Let’s deal with this. Whadda you think I did?’
‘Why do you think we’re here?’ This was the fair-haired man moving in. ‘Hmm?’
‘How the fu— How would I know that?’ Robin spreading his arms. ‘When I went home to pick up my wife, it was all normal here!’
‘DCI Brent, West Mercia,’ the fair-haired man said. ‘This is a joint operation with Dyfed-Powys Police. We’re looking for a missing person, and we’re talking to everybody who might have used this car park yesterday.’
‘So whyn’t you just say?’
‘And your name is…?’
‘Thorogood.’ Robin spelled it out. Robin Thorogood. That’s my wife, Betty Thorogood.’
‘So far, sir,’ Brent said, ‘you’re the only person we’ve found whose vehicle was here all night. For reasons which, I have to say, don’t make immediate sense to me. If you thought you were over the limit why didn’t you get a taxi?’
‘You know how much cabs cost? ’Sides, where do you start looking for a cab in Hay?’
‘You look in a bad way, Mr Thorogood.’
‘I am in a bad way. Some of the time. I have injuries.’
‘Injuries you received last night?’
‘Oh, sure. I had a couple fights, then I was run over by a—’
‘He was…’ Betty put herself in front of Robin. ‘He was in a serious accident a few years ago.’
‘And still has the bruises?’ Brent said.
Stagg said, ‘I don’t see a disabled sticker in your windscreen.’
‘I don’t…’ Robin’s face was going red, his teeth were clenched. ‘I don’t have a disabled sticker. If they ever offered me one, I’d refuse it. I don’t like to abuse the system. Plus I like to suffer, which I’m doing right now.’