Almost Love by Christina James Read Free Book Online Page B

her long to realise that Oliver might be right. The police might well want to speak to him.
    The swing door banged boisterously. Three men clad in black T-shirts and jeans burst in.
    “Hi! I’m Archie, and this here is Baz, and Gully. We’re the sound guys. Sorry we’re late. Ready to roll now, though.”
    “If you’ll excuse me,” said Oliver. “I did get here on time, as you specified, but I’m afraid something rather urgent has come up now that I have to attend to.”
    Archie looked affronted.
    “Suit yourself,” he said. “You wanted the rehearsal. Don’t blame us if your gig doesn’t go according to plan.”
    “My ‘gig’, as you put it, might not happen at all if you don’t learn to behave with a bit more respect.”
    The technical team stood and faced him across the expanse of white-cloth’d tables, arms folded, lowering like a bunch of trainee matadors who had just cornered an elderly bull.
    Alex put her hand on Oliver’s arm.
    “Please,” she said. “I can see that you’re upset, but it’s no skin off their nose if the conference goes badly. I don’t think you need to rehearse very much; just make sure that your mike is working and adjusted to the right height for you. Then you can go and listen to the next news bulletin on the radio, if that’s what you want to do and, if you think it’s necessary, call the police. There’s plenty of time before we start – until nine-thirty, it’s just coffee for people who weren’t here last night.”
    Oliver nodded.
    “Sorry,” he said. Alex was surprised to see his face contort briefly, as if he might burst into tears. “You’re right. I am upset. I’m amazed at how upset, actually. It’s not as if Claudia and I are particularly close these days and, God knows, we crossed swords enough times when we were working together. She rarely got on with anyone that she worked with, actually. It’s just that – well, she’s frail now, and very elderly, and I think sad about what’s happened to her reputation. I can’t bear the thought of something frightening having happened to her – or, worse, that she’s wandered off by herself somewhere and hurt herself or been attacked by some vagrant or something.” He smiled briefly. “If I’m honest, I suppose it’s myself I’m concerned about, not just Claudia. She represents what I did in my youth, you see; what many of my generation of archaeologists did, in fact, because of her. Whether or not her theories were right – and opinions will always differ on that point – her passing will mark the end of an epoch.”
    Alex took his hand and held it for a few seconds.
    “I think I understand,” she said, “but do try to look on the bright side. From what I’ve heard, she’s only missing: there’s no evidence to suggest that she’s dead or that someone’s holding her against her will. I wish I hadn’t told you about it, in a way; it might have saved you some worry, if by the time you turn on the radio they’re announcing that she’s back where she belongs and that the whole episode was a false alarm.”
    Oliver in turn squeezed her hand and let go of it gently.
    “Thank you,” he said. “Comforting as ever, Alex. But somehow, this time, I doubt that you’re right.”

Chapter Five
    It was 12 noon. The clock over the old stable block was cranking its way through twelve strokes, each one accompanied by background whirring noises, as if this might be its last effort before giving up the ghost.
    Detective Inspector Tim Yates had already negotiated at some speed the long winding lane that led from the main road to the hotel courtyard, and was now parking his ancient BMW more sedately on the cobbles that fronted the central façade of the building.
    The geography of the hotel was confusing. Tim walked around the courtyard once, trying various doors, including one that yielded when he turned the handle but which led only to banked tiers of trestle tables folded flat and towers of chairs