‘That the angle, is it? Interesting.’

Joe hated amateur sleuths. And he hated local councillors. It dawned on him that perhaps he hated too many people. Busybodies could be useful sources of information, though.

‘No angle, just one of many lines of enquiry.’

‘It’s all over Twitter,’ Bannister said.

Joe had agreed to release the fact that the last sighting of Shaw was in Cleckheaton town centre, expecting a few dozen vague and unhelpful phone calls from the public. As it happened, no one had rung, although plenty of people had taken to social media to offer their theories and opinions.

‘Do any of these folk go to the Lobster Pot?’ he asked.

Bannister took a moment, glanced around the assembled curlers.

‘I think Trevor went once. He’s not here today. Having a stent out at Pinderfields.’

‘What did he say about them?’

‘A bit of anti-Islamic what-not, but mainly traditional values, y’know. A woman’s place, smack your kids, that kind of style.’

‘He didn’t carry on going?’

‘Elaine wouldn’t let him!’

‘Vigilante justice? What’s your take on that?’

Bannister shrugged. ‘That murdered lad was involved in drugs, I assume. It’s Happy Valley round here! Could’ve been anybody. Besides,’ he looked at the veterans in front of them, ‘a few of this lot smoke cannabis. Or make biscuits. The grandkids get it for ’em.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It’s better than the stuff they give you for arthritis, now that’s a fact. Oh look, it’s my turn. Nice speaking to you.’

Back in the entrance a woman was putting up another poster on one of the notice boards. Joe paused, trying to guess: Advanced Tiddlywinks, Wheelchair Taekwondo… When she stood back to admire her work, he was a little disappointed. Job Club: Finance Skills.

Having perhaps sensed that someone was watching her, she turned. She was about his age, with shortish dark hair and an expression which managed to be both serious and distant. For a moment she seemed not to understand why he was looking at her. Then her expression lightened.

‘You’d be very welcome.’

‘Job Club?’ he said. ‘Thanks, but gainfully employed. Well, employed.’

She smiled. ‘Job satisfaction’s overrated.’

‘You run it?’

‘The club? Yes. We do banking skills, personal finance, some basic accountancy. It’s just a hobby of mine.’

‘Good hobby.’

‘Is it? I’m a teacher, actually.’

‘Now that is a job! Local?’

She nodded. ‘Whitcliffe Mount School. Just round the corner. I teach Maths.’

‘Funny, I used to be a teacher. French and Italian. Not anymore, though.’

She looked him up and down. ‘Let me guess. Actually, you still look like a teacher. Y’know, one of the well-dressed ones.’

He held up his card. Best get it out of the way.

‘Oh, right. That’s…’ she searched for the right word ‘…impressive.’