The detective emerged from the car, and headed for the house. It was a 1960s semi, with an unkempt hedge shielding it from the road and a short drive on which an aged Fiat was parked. Approaching the front door, he saw a sun-bleached sign which indicated New-Age Therapeutics operated from the rear of the property. Gillard made his way around the back, where a UPVC glass door led to a large brightly lit sun lounge with a massage table, on which were stacked several neatly folded towels, several freestanding oriental wooden screens, and various hangings and knick-knacks. Glossy magazines were spread about on coffee tables, and there was a stand of what looked like skin creams and oil. There was no evidence of occupation. He rang the doorbell, which produced gentle tones of what might have been Tibetan bells. He tried the door. Locked. After a minute, he returned to the front, and rang the main doorbell. No reply. He checked up on the rusting Fiat via the Driver Vehicle Licensing Agency portal, and found it was officially off-road, the DVLA having received the statutory notice. Returning to his car, Gillard noticed a woman further up the road on the other side, a fit-looking woman in T-shirt and shorts, working in her front garden. He did a double take.

It was Stella Anderson.

If the Hampshire officer was a near neighbour of Crystal Willow, this gave a completely new angle to her interest in the case. In fact, with just over 100 yards between the homes it was even possible that it was she who owned the burner phone. Gillard’s car was only four doors away from Stella Anderson’s home, on the other side of the road. His first instinct was to drive away and think about the implications of what he had seen. But as he sat inside the vehicle, he could see in his wing mirror the woman’s approach, garden fork in hand. He decided to get out and face her.

‘Hello ma’am, didn’t realise you lived in this neck of the woods.’

‘I don’t, Craig. It’s my mother’s home, and she’s getting a little too infirm to do the garden. So I help her out on the heavy stuff. The more pertinent question is, what are you doing here?’

Gillard decided to pursue a policy of complete candour, hoping to elicit similar transparency on her side. ‘Tracing some of the phone contacts between Ozzy Blanchard and the burner phone in the run-up to his disappearance. I was hoping to speak to the proprietor of New-Age Therapeutics.’

Anderson nodded. ‘Crystal Willow disappeared at about the same time as Ozzy Blanchard.’ Seeing Gillard’s curious expression, she continued, ‘My mother has severe arthritis, and was a regular client. She was quite upset, in fact, that Crystal hasn’t contacted any of her customers for several months.’

‘You know where she is?’