And then there was the sound of footsteps outside, and the scrape of a key in a lock.

Wynne

1

DI Wynne sipped a mug of coffee. DS Dudek sat opposite her, a piece of A4 paper in his hand.

‘Here’s what we know about Carl Jameson,’ he said. ‘Thirty-nine years old, unmarried. No kids. Lives in a terraced house in Padgate with his mum. About ten years back he got arrested for shoplifting. Got off with a warning. That’s about it.’

‘Plus he’s a poet and a fan of Annabelle Westbrook,’ Wynne said.

‘That too.’ DS Dudek folded his arms. ‘If he has her, where would he keep her?’

‘Good question. An abandoned building? Or in the house. Maybe his mother knows what he’s done. Maybe she helped him. Stranger things have happened.’ Wynne finished the coffee. ‘Let’s go and see him.’

DI Wynne knocked on the door. There was no doorbell; the door looked like it needed painting. Two houses down, a man in his forties came out. He was wearing overalls and carrying a flask.

He studied them. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ DI Wynne said.

The man didn’t move. ‘You looking for Edith?’

‘Her son,’ DS Dudek said.

‘Carl?’

‘Yes. Does he still live here?’

‘Aye,’ the man said. ‘He does.’ He sniffed. ‘Are you police? Is Carl in trouble?’

‘We are the police,’ Wynne said, then gave her standard response to these kind of questions. ‘We’re making routine enquiries.’

‘Involving Carl? I don’t see what you’d need from him.’

‘What’s your name, sir?’ Wynne said. The man flinched. No one liked giving their name to the police, however innocent they were.

‘Jim Franks,’ he said.

‘Are you related to Carl Jameson?’ she asked.

‘No. Just a neighbour. Known him since he was a baby. He’s a good kid.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ Wynne said. She was about to knock again, when there was the sound of a lock being drawn and the front door opened.

A woman, in her seventies at least, looked at them.

‘Hello,’ she said. She looked worried, her eyes moving from DI Wynne to DS Dudek. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘I’m Detective Inspector Jane Wynne,’ Wynne said. ‘And this is DS Dudek. I take it you are Edith Jameson? We have some questions for your son, Carl. Is he here?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m Edith Jameson. And Carl is in the front room. Do you have any identification? Sorry to ask, but – you know.’

Wynne and Dudek held up their warrant cards. ‘Take your time,’ Wynne said. Edith Jameson’s neighbour was still watching them. ‘If you have any concerns, we’re happy to have your neighbour join us.’

‘That’s OK,’ Edith said. ‘Come in.’

Inside the hall, Edith gestured at a closed door. ‘He’s in there,’ she said. ‘He’s up, but let me check he’s ready.’