Muddyman couldn’t work out if she was kidding or not. Lillie interrupted them.

“Ma’am, Records sent this in, about Moyra Henson. She was picked up for soliciting fifteen years ago. I dunno if it’s of any interest, but she’s been on the dole for four years.”

“You never know. Stick it on the file.”

Otley chipped in, “We’ve got twenty-two statements from the toms, and there’s more of ’em upstairs. Nothing worthwhile yet. Plus her boyfriend and flatmates are waiting to be interviewed. What’s goin’ on, are we gonna charge him?”

It was coming at her too fast; Tennison floundered for a moment.

“I’d better see the girls first. Keep the Super off my back for a while. And I want to see everyone in here when I’m finished.” She looked around the room to see who was there. “Ken, you’d better organize a WPC for the girls . . .”

Otley perched on the edge of his desk, watching with delight while she tried to cope, and failed.

“There was something else . . .” Tennison continued. “Oh, the identification. Her name’s Karen Julia Howard.”

“We know,” said Otley.

“Oh . . . yes, of course you do. Right, I’m off.”

Following her, Ken Muddyman minced from the room, camping it up and blowing Otley a kiss as he went. The hoot of laughter could be heard all the way down the corridor.

The three girls’ vagueness about Karen was infuriating; Tennison terminated the session after half an hour. By that time she knew that Karen had often spent days, even weeks, at her boyfriend’s flat, but the couple had recently had a disagreement and had not seen much of each other since. When Karen had not returned for a couple of nights they presumed she had made it up with him.

On the other hand, Miffy conjectured, Michael obviously didn’t make contact because he thought Karen didn’t want to see him, but eventually he had called round. Discovering that no one had seen Karen, and she wasn’t with her parents or any other friends, Antonia had reported her missing.

The last time the girls had seen Karen she had driven off in her white Mini to Ladbroke Grove for a modeling job. It was a knitwear advert, she had told them. She had taken her large portfolio and her Filofax. Perhaps Karen’s agent would know the name of the firm.

The girls constantly looked at each other as if to confirm every detail. A couple of times they broke into tears; Tennison was patient with them but she kept pushing for the information she needed.

“Was there any mention of a new man in her life?”

They could think of no one. Miffy, her eyes red from crying, believed that Karen had loved Michael more than she pretended, but got fed up because he was a bit possessive.

“So they used to argue about it, did they?”