She flashed her teeth in a quick grimace. ‘Sorry, Guv, we’re getting nothing on Anthony or Agnes’s phone. They’ve either got their mobiles switched off, they’re out of battery, or they’ve ditched them. Control are keeping an eye on it – if there’s any activity they’ll let us know.’

So much for a quick and easy result. ‘Anthony Chung: he’s got a car, hasn’t he? ’

‘Nissan Skyline. The insurance must be costing his parents a fortune.’

‘Get a lookout request on it.’ Logan nudged the wastepaper basket back where it came from. Just have to do this the old-fashioned way. ‘Right, someone’s got to know where they’re staying, so—’

‘I’ve put together a list of Agnes and Anthony’s friends.’ She flipped open her notebook and held it out. The page was covered with names and addresses. ‘And I’ve booked out a pool car for the rest of the day.’

He smiled. ‘Then let’s go see who’s in the mood for squealing.’

‘Yeah, we were like, you know, completely best friends.’ Dan Fisher leaned against the countertop, stringy tattooed arms poking out from the short sleeves of his crumpled shirt with the pub’s name embroidered onto it. ‘Ton and me was like . . . Han and Chewie, right? ’

‘Were? ’ Logan settled onto the bar stool. ‘Past tense? ’

‘Yeah. . .’ A shrug. The lobe of Dan’s left ear was stretched around a hollow cylinder, big enough to poke a tube of Smarties through. Three silver hoops above that, one more through his nose, and a stud in his bottom lip like a metal cold sore. Black hair, collar-length on one side and shaved to the scalp on the other. ‘We kinda fell out a bit. You know, with Rowan and everything. He was all,’ Dan put on a broad American accent, cranking up the volume, ‘“She’s a Goddamned nympho in the sack, you ain’t gonna believe what she did last night. . .” Always boasting, and I. . .’ He bit his bottom lip. ‘I didn’t think he should treat her like that.’

Chalmers flipped to the next page in her notebook, pen at the ready. ‘Rowan? ’

A nod. ‘Yeah, she doesn’t like being called Agnes. Can’t blame her, right? Stupid name.’

‘And that’s why you fell out with Anthony Chung? ’

Dan pulled out a smartphone and poked at it for a moment, then held it out. Grainy camera footage flickered across the screen. A group of young men and women in a pub somewhere, everything stained satsuma orange by the indoor lighting. Laughter crackled out of the little speaker, and the picture moved in on a couple snogging in the corner of the booth. His hair was longer than hers, black and shiny, hers was brown, wavy, pulled back in a ponytail. He slipped a hand up the front of her T-shirt. And then the kissing stopped and she jerked away from him.