Banks had once worked on a case for the Met involving a modeling agency and he had been surprised that so many of these women who looked beautiful in magazines and on television lacked something in real life, their features perfect but bland, unformed and unfinished, like a blank canvas or an actor without a role. But Robin Armitage had presence.

“I’m sure you know,” said Banks, “that Luke’s death changes everything. It changes the way we proceed in the investigation, and we’re going to have to go over much of the same ground again. This may seem tedious and pointless to you, but believe me, it’s necessary. I’m new to the case, but I took the time this morning to familiarize myself with the investigation so far, and I have to say that I’ve found nothing out of order, nothing I wouldn’t have done had I been in charge myself.”

“Like I said,” Martin chipped in, “you lot stick together. I’ll be complaining to the chief constable. He’s a personal friend of mine.”

“That’s your privilege, but he’ll only tell you the same as I’m telling you. If everyone gave in to a kidnapper’s demands without informing the police, it would be the most popular crime in the country.”

“But look what happened when we did inform the police. Our son is dead.”

“Something went wrong. This was an unusual case from the start; there are a number of inconsistencies.”

“What are you suggesting? That it wasn’t a straightforward kidnapping?”

“There was nothing straightforward about it at all, Mr. Armitage.”

“I don’t understand,” said Robin. “The phone call…the ransom demand…they were genuine, surely?”

“Yes,” said Annie, taking a cue from Banks. “But the ransom demand came an unusually long time after Luke disappeared, the kidnapper didn’t let you speak to your son, and the sum he asked for was ridiculously low.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Martin. “We’re not made of money.”

“I know that,” Annie said. “But how would the kidnapper know? To all intents and purposes, footballers and models make millions, and you’re living in a mansion.”

Martin frowned. “I suppose you’ve got a point. Unless…”

“Yes?” Banks picked up the questioning again.

“Unless it was someone close to us.”

“Can you think of anyone?”

“Of course not. I can’t imagine any of our friends doing something like this. Are you insane?”

“Mrs. Armitage?”

Robin shook her head. “No.”

“We’ll still need a list of people to talk to.”

“I’m not having you going around bullying our friends,” said Martin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be discreet. And, don’t forget, you’re the one who suggested it might be someone close to you. Anyone have a grudge against either of you?”

“A few goalies, I suppose,” said Martin, “but nothing serious, no.”

“Mrs. Armitage?”

“I don’t think so. Modeling can be a brutally competitive career, and I’m sure I stood on my share of toes on the catwalk, but nothing so…terrible…I mean, nothing to make anyone do something like this, especially so long after.”