Ruthie sighed. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me.’

‘So you see,’ went on Marie, ‘she and the lad could be in grave danger. Do you know where Claire went when she left the refuge? Or even where she is now?’

‘If I could tell you, I would, but I haven’t the faintest idea.’ Ruthie looked directly at Marie. ‘We lost touch eighteen months ago. Her phone suddenly went dead, and she never rang me again. I’m afraid the worst might have happened.’

Marie groaned to herself.

‘But I do know where she went after the refuge,’ added Ruthie. ‘I swore I wouldn’t tell a soul, but now she could be dead for all I know, so I suppose I can say.’

Marie looked at her expectantly.

‘She went to Skegness. A friend of hers from the refuge had a holiday flat there. She wasn’t letting it out, so she said Claire could stay for free. Claire had begun to understand that Nan Cutler wasn’t the problem, but Andrea. So without a word to anyone, she packed their few belongings and disappeared with the boy.’

‘Did she give you the address?’ asked Marie.

‘Yes.’

‘Could I have it, please?’

Ruthie hesitated. ‘Get your notebook out, girl. I know it by heart. Didn’t want to write it down in case. You never know, do you?’

Marie opened her notebook.

‘She ain’t there though. After her calls stopped, I took myself off on the early bus one morning, but it was all locked up and the blinds were drawn. A neighbour said she hadn’t been there for weeks. Right sad, I was.’

But there was still hope. Even though Ruthie had been unlucky, the police had more resources for tracing missing persons. They’d start with the owner of the property. ‘If you could let me have the mobile number too, Ruthie, we might be able to do a trace on it.’

The old lady produced a rather battered phone from her cardigan pocket and scrolled through her contacts. ‘Addresses are one thing, but who can remember numbers? Ah, here we are. Not that it’ll do you any good, lass. It was the cheapest pay-as-you-go phone in the supermarket. I know because I bought it for her.’

‘I really appreciate your help,’ Marie said, ‘and when I find out what happened, I promise I’ll come and tell you.’

Ruthie Grey nodded. She had said all she had to say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Felix Becker was a tall, lean man with a shock of unruly, dark-blond hair.

‘We really appreciate your coming here today, sir,’ began Max. ‘Anything you can tell us about your ex-wife will be a great help with a murder case we’re investigating.’

‘Murder, Detective? You never mentioned murder when we spoke on the phone.’ Becker spoke with a pronounced German accent.

‘Well, it’s a complicated investigation,’ Max said.