And None Shall Sleep by Priscilla Masters Page A

portrait of a grave-looking middle-aged man without a trace of humour in his face. She looked down at it for a moment, then handed it to Joanna. ‘This is my husband.’
    â€˜Well,’ Joanna said as Mike took the car down the drive. ‘So far, apart from the nurse who’s only worried her head may roll, we seem the only ones at all upset by the man’s disappearance.’
    Mike grinned. ‘Look on the bright side, Jo.’ he said. ‘She could have been one of those really neurotic types, breathing down your neck all hours of the day and night. At least like this she’ll keep off our backs until we find him.’
    She turned her head and stared at him. ‘Dead or alive, Mike?’
    â€˜Well,’ he said. ‘He was too sick a man to be wandering the streets for thirty-six hours in nothing but a pair of pyjamas. The weather’s quite cold. If he hasn’t taken refuge with a friend he’s quickly stiffening.’
    She smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Mike,’ she said, ‘for your usual graphic and dispassionate thesis. Now commit yourself, Sergeant. Dead or alive?’
    â€˜Dead,’ he said soberly, ‘and some poor bugger’s got to find him.’

Chapter Four
    She kept the preliminary briefing short, emphasizing the point that so far Jonathan Selkirk was a ‘missing person with cause for concern’. But as the hours ticked by, all the listeners were homing in on the same thought. The search would probably end with a sodden body, a crumpled heap of extinguished life.
    She mentioned the probability that a car had picked him up and knew she could rely on a couple of them to check along the taxi rank as well as among his circle of friends. True, Sheila Selkirk had already rung their close friends, but it was possible that though Jonathan Selkirk’s whereabouts had not been revealed to his wife, they might be to the police. Joanna’s years in the police force had taught her to rely on no one’s statement until it had been thoroughly checked. After the briefing Mike drove her home. She watched him handling the car with a touch of peevishness, irritated that the plaster cast was slowing her down, forcing her to be dependent. Making an invalid of her.
    â€˜He asked for the telephone,’ she said. ‘I wonder who he wanted to phone. His wife?’
    Mike took his eyes off the road for a moment. ‘She claimed she was out all evening with her innocent family friend.’
    â€˜Since when have you started believing alibis?’
    â€˜Just reminding you,’ he said good naturedly. ‘Surely it’s more likely that he wanted to ring for a taxi?’
    â€˜Ripped all his wires off and climbed in wearing pyjamas?’ She shook her head. Even taxi drivers have their suspicions.’
    â€˜Maybe he had a bag of clothes with him.’
    She shook her head again. ‘His wife took the only bag of stuff away with her.’
    â€˜As far as we know.’
    â€˜From what she and the hospital staff have said, he wasn’t in a fit state that morning to be packing bags of clothes.’
    Mike agreed.
    â€˜Anyway, thanks for the lift,’ she said as he pulled up outside her cottage.
    â€˜My pleasure. I’ll be along in the morning – nice and early.’
    â€˜You’re at the gym tonight?’
    He grinned and flexed his muscles.
    â€˜You should have told Sheila Selkirk how she could get a body like yours.’
    â€˜See you tomorrow,’ he said, and she laughed as she slammed the car door behind her.
    Even getting her keys out of her bag was tricky. Turning the key while holding down the door handle was even worse. Elbows have no grip. And her damaged arm had no strength either. She cursed softly and eventually opened the door. Inside, she struggled feebly with her jacket. The sleeve was too tight over the plaster and it tore.
    â€˜Damn.’ she cursed softly and wondered whether she should