I sat down at the table next to the prostitutes and helped myself to one of the spoons rammed into a drinking tumbler on the table. The first mouthful made me realize just how hungry I’d been. The curry was rich and tasty, the meat tender and plentiful. And all for less than the price of a motorway sandwich. I’d heard before that the best places to eat in Bradford were the Asian cafés and restaurants, but I’d always written it off as the inverse snobbery of pretentious foodies. For once, I was glad to be proved wrong.

I wiped my bowl clean with the last of the chapatis, and pulled out the most recent photograph I had of Moira. I shifted in my chair till I was facing the prostitutes, who were enjoying a last cigarette before they went out to brave an afternoon’s trade. The café was so small I was practically sitting among them. I flipped the photograph on to the table and cut through their desultory

The youngest of the three women, a tired-looking Eurasian, looked me up and down and said, “Fuck off.”

I raised my eyebrows and remarked. “Only asking. You’re sure you don’t know where I’ll find her? It could be a nice little earner, helping me out.”

The other two looked uncertainly at each other, but the tough little Eurasian got to her feet and retorted angrily, “Stuff your money up your arse. We don’t like pigs round here, whether they’re private pigs or ones in uniform. Why don’t you just fuck off back to Manchester before you get hurt?” She turned to her companions and snarled, “Come on, girls, I don’t like the smell in here.”

The three departed, teetering on their high heels, and I picked up the photo and my card with a sigh. I hadn’t really expected much co-operation, but I’d been a bit surprised by the vehemence of their reaction. Clearly the pimps in Bradford had drilled their employees in the perils of talking to strange women. I was going to have to do this the hard way, out on the streets and in the pubs till I found someone who was prepared to take the risk of talking to me.

I left the café and went back to move the car. I didn’t feel happy about leaving it parked in such a quiet street for any length of time. I’d look for a nice big pub car park fronting on the main drag for a bit more security. As I started the engine, I was aware of a flash of movement at the edge of my peripheral vision and the passenger door was wrenched open. Bloody central locking, I cursed silently. My mouth dried with fear, and I thrust the car into gear, hoping to dislodge my assailant.