‘Well, that’s always the problem,’ Sister Cassie replied, following her in, unhooking her cloak and seating herself rather primly in an armchair. ‘We’re all rushed off our feet these days.’ Then she became stern. ‘But I do think these disappearances are getting a little out of hand.’

Lucy sat in the facing chair, which thankfully was several feet away. Sister Cassie attended to her own hygiene as much as any homeless drug-addict could be expected to, regularly using the showers available in the shelters, but she also insisted on wearing this ancient religious garb of hers, which, by the look and stink of it, probably hadn’t been laundered in two decades or more.

Lucy shrugged. ‘Sister … we’re looking into these pet abductions as part of a larger operation …’

‘Pet abductions?’ Sister Cassie seemed baffled. ‘My child, if only it were pets I was talking about.’

Lucy could only shrug again, bemused. ‘Okay, so … what disappearances?’

‘My dear child … three of my regulars have recently dropped out of sight.’

‘Dropped out of sight?’

‘I believe that’s the vernacular. They’ve vanished. They’re no longer here.’

‘Sister, I’m afraid I’m still not sure what you mean …’

‘Oh, child.’ A look of patient frustration briefly etched the ex-nun’s face, a hint maybe of the teacher she’d once reputedly been. ‘This is not difficult. You know Edna Davis, I take it?’

Lucy couldn’t help thinking about the custody clock ticking next door. ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

‘They used to call her the Cat Lady.’

Lucy paused. This name rang a bell.

‘Always sits at the junction between Stoker’s Street and Kiln Lane,’ Sister Cassie explained. ‘Or she used to. I don’t know where she is now.’

Lucy recollected the homeless woman in question. She was a lot older and in a far more decrepit state than Sister Cassie and was instantly recognisable for her beige mac and overlarge trainers, and for the crumpled, flower-covered hat she wore, but, most noticeably of all, for the three or four cats she always had with her.

‘Stoker’s Street and Kiln Lane?’ she sought to confirm.

Sister Cassie nodded.

‘And she’s disappeared, you say?’

‘One day, I was making my usual evening rounds – and she was no longer there. And she hasn’t been there since. No one I know has seen her.’

‘When was this?’

‘I would say … five days ago.’

Lucy pondered. Five days wasn’t that long, and some homeless people were transient and prone to wandering.

‘But I’m afraid that isn’t the worst of it,’ the ex-nun added. ‘Ronald Burke … you know him?’

Lucy regarded her quizzically. ‘No, but he’s also homeless, I’m guessing?’

‘You, most likely, will have met him when he’s been causing trouble in public houses.’ The ex-nun sighed at such regrettable behaviour. ‘He used to wear a brown overcoat and a grey balaclava. Whatever the weather.’