‘Thanks for your help,’ said Farmer, and Poulter snorted and left him to it.

The case DI Maguire had been looking into on the week he vanished was a multiple stabbing in a tenement block in the East End. Gang fight over territory. Nothing very surprising, although two fatalities had come of it and two suspects had been nicked and charged, bail denied. Farmer took a careful note of all the names and addresses of the people involved then went off home with sore eyes and a headache to slap something in the microwave and get some shut-eye.

Next morning he waited for DI Hunter to turn in for work, anxious to get his permission to pursue the stabbing case further. He twitched about the office, making tea, chatting to the other officers.

‘Hunter’s in with the Super,’ someone told him, and so he sat down at his desk and started pushing papers around to kill the time.

Finally, Hunter showed up. Farmer was on his toes in an instant.

‘Boss, can I have a word?’

‘Yeah sure. What about?’ Hunter was loosening his tie, looking disgruntled.

‘Maguire, sir. The case he was investigating on the day he disappeared . . .’

Hunter held up a hand and Farmer fell silent. ‘Stop right there. I’ve been talking to the Super and he has just given me a bollocking to remember. Someone’s told him what you’ve been doing and he doesn’t want us wasting any more police time on this.’

Farmer’s mouth dropped open. He’d been gnawing at this for ages. It was like a permanent itch under his skin, tormenting him. He had to solve the damned thing. ‘But, sir . . .’

‘Don’t give me that look. The Super said drop it and so you will drop it. You got me?’

Farmer was silent.

‘Don’t be fucking obstinate, Farmer. This is not a request. This is a direct order,’ said Hunter.

Farmer took a steadying breath. He felt with every fibre, every cell, that the Maguire case stank to high heaven. But he couldn’t go up against Hunter, and he certainly couldn’t ignore an order from on high. That would be career suicide.

‘All right, sir,’ he said at last. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do, Farmer.’ Hunter sat down at his desk. ‘I understand your frustration. Of course I do. But people run off. You know that. They get overwhelmed and they just up and go, and it looks like Donny Maguire did precisely that. Now, come on. What delights do you have for me today?’

Farmer heaved a heavy sigh. Then he picked up the thick bundle of case files in his in-tray and started to fill his boss in on the details of the first one, while in his mind he saw Donny Maguire’s sharply handsome face and wondered about the man. Donny was devious, cruel, a womanizer. Probably good to his kids and old ladies, but still – not a nice bloke.

And now he’s bloody gone, disappeared, thought Farmer.