‘I’ll send Singh down to talk to her.’ Palmer slammed the phone down and summoned Singh from the other side of the room. ‘Missing person has been reported. I need you to go and take a statement. Crack on with it though, Singh, we need everyone working on this case.’

‘Yes.’ Singh jumped to attention and took himself downstairs to speak to the woman.

Sitting on a chair wringing her hands, sat a woman with red eyes and a blotchy face.

‘Sergeant Singh,’ he introduced himself. ‘Come this way.’

The troubled woman stood and shuffled along behind, dabbing her eyes with a soggy tissue.

‘How can I help?’ Singh held the door open and showed the woman into the interview room.

‘My Eddie, he’s missing. He didn’t come home last night.’

‘Can I take your name?’ Singh sat down and removed a pen and pad from his white shirt pocket.

‘Mrs Susan Kilpatrick.’ She sniffed and sat down opposite the officer.

‘Where do you live?’

‘We live at 79 Bridewell Road in Fulbourn. Near the psychiatric hospital.’ She spoke as if saying the words might somehow affect her sanity.

‘And who is it you are reporting missing?’ Singh remained patient.

‘My husband Eddie. Edward Kilpatrick.’

‘When did you last see your husband?’ His pen was poised over the notepad.

‘Yesterday afternoon. Probably at about four.’ She dabbed her eyes again. ‘He said he was going to the shops to get something for dinner but he never came home. I’ve tried calling his mobile and he isn’t answering. It’s not like him to disappear. Our daughter is arriving from London later on today. He wouldn’t miss that for the world. I’m worried he’s been in an accident.’

‘So he was driving?’

‘Yes, he took his car. I thought it was a bit odd at the time because the supermarket is a short walk from the house. But then again with the weather being what it is…’ She trailed off.

‘What’s the make and model?’

‘It’s a brown Volvo estate.’

‘What does your husband do for work?’ Singh was going through the motions.

‘He’s running for council.’ Susan beamed with pride. ‘It’s been his ambition to get involved in politics, so when he retired from his recruitment firm last year–’

‘What was he wearing?’ Singh interrupted as quickly and as politely as he could.

‘He had on a pair of blue corduroy trousers, a beige checked shirt and a green jumper. And his coat, one of those waxy dark green things.’

‘Have you tried calling the hospitals?’

‘No.’ She looked at him blankly while her fingers fiddled with the tissue in her hand.

‘Right. Please wait here a moment, Mrs Kilpatrick, while I make a few calls. Can I get you a hot drink while you wait?’

‘Thank you. A tea would do nicely. Two sugars.’

Singh could see she had kind eyes.