‘Are we going to search the outside premises, Sergeant?’ asked one of the uniformed officers from the response team.

‘Not until we have a few more bodies,’ said Fry. ‘There are too many outbuildings. Too many nooks and crannies. The three of us couldn’t possibly cover it.’

‘We might be here a while. It’s Saturday.’

‘I know.’

Fry wondered how Cooper and Murfin were getting on at the horse market. Last she’d heard, they were just waiting, as she was.

Then she looked at the stables again. She was trying to remember the details of her visit here yesterday with Gavin Murfin. She had a clear picture of Murfin standing in front of the loose boxes, clicking his tongue like an idiot, and asking the names of the horses. ‘That’s Bonny at the end. Baby is the one in the middle. And the gelding is called Monty.’

Bonny, Baby, Monty. But there were only two heads watching her, with no sign of the gelding. Where was the third horse?

AFTER HALF AN hour, Ben Cooper and Gavin Murfin were still sitting in their car at the cattle market in Derby. People passed them clutching bags of carrots, bits of leather tack and hoof oil.

‘Hello, do we know them?’

Cooper jerked his head around at Murfin’s question, thinking he must be missing something. But he saw only a couple of women in denim jeans and body warmers who had stopped to stare at them.

‘You’re going to miss the Rams today, Gavin,’ said Cooper, relaxing again. ‘Aren’t they playing at home?’

‘I don’t care any more,’ said Murfin. ‘I’d rather support Nottingham Forest.’

‘Really? But you were always such a big Derby County fan.’

‘Until last season.’

‘Relegation from the Premiership? Or the new American owners?’

‘Both. And the team has been crap, too. Since the Americans came in, everyone calls them the Derby Doughnuts – because there’s always a hole through the middle.’

‘Is that what’s making you restless?’ said Cooper. ‘You haven’t been yourself for days.’

Murfin pulled a face. ‘Jean has made me go on a diet.’

Now that he thought about it, Cooper hadn’t seen Murfin snacking anything like so much as he used to. It must be the reason for Murfin’s strange behaviour all week.

‘And how do you feel?’ asked Cooper.

‘Terrible. I’ve got no energy. Nothing seems to matter any more. I really don’t want to go into the office on Monday.’

‘I suppose you could phone in sick.’

‘I’ve used up all my sick days. I’d have to phone in dead.’

Cooper dialled Fry’s number. ‘They’re still not here, Diane,’ he said. ‘We’ve been all round the cattle market. No sign of them. How long do you want us to wait?’

‘I think the mother has pulled a fast one on us,’ said Fry. ‘Head back and meet me at Long Acres Farm, soon as you can.’