‘That guy’s your boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’

I let it sink in.

‘And he doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know what you do here.’ I looked at the sign on the frosted glass of the door, the words inverted. Sampaguita – Social Introduction Agency. ‘Don’t tell me he really thinks you’re some kind of dating agency?’

‘Men believe what they want to believe.’

I stared at the door as if the girl in the cab might walk back in. But then I knew Rabia Demir was putting as much distance as she could between herself and this room.

I pulled up a chair and stared at Ginger.

‘I’m sorry, Max. I did my best to stall her.’

‘Talk me through it,’ I said.

‘This young woman shows up uninvited. It happens maybe a few times every day. Looking for work. Word of mouth. She wouldn’t tell me who talked to her about what I do here. She claimed she didn’t remember. And I get that every day too. But I didn’t realise it was her, Max. You have to believe me. She was different from the photographs.’

I called up the photos on my phone and slid it across the desk.

‘How was she different?’

Ginger scrolled through the photographs of Rabia Demir and Mr Click-Click, shaking her head.

‘She didn’t have – I don’t know – the spark she has in these pictures. She was blurry. As if she was on something.’

‘What?’

‘Something bad and strong. And everything about her was wrong. She had a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist. There.’ She showed me. ‘You know I don’t like tattoos. My clients don’t like tattoos.’

‘Yeah, I know they’re a really discerning bunch, your clients. What kind of tattoo, Ginger?’

‘A bar code.’

I thought about the reasons why someone would get a bar code tattooed on their wrist.

I could not think of a good reason. I could not even think of a bad reason.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed.

‘So you turned her down,’ I said.

‘I didn’t get the chance. She lost her temper with me. She told me she knew I operated on a fifty-fifty split with my girls but she wanted a better deal. I also get one of those every day – the kind of girl who thinks she can do a bit better than everyone else. Little Miss Special. And then suddenly I knew who she was.’

‘The prettiest girl in the village,’ DCI Whitestone said.

Whitestone was standing in the doorway. She nodded at me as she came into the small white room, followed by Edie. I had sent them a text message on my drive to Chinatown telling them that Rabia Demir was waiting for us up at Sampaguita.

‘So where is she?’ Whitestone said, apparently not surprised to find Rabia Demir long gone.

‘She scarpered,’ I said.