Marie looked at it and laughed. ‘Puts a few coppers I know to shame, that’s for sure.’

Jackman skimmed through his notes. ‘I’m not sure what Annie Carson intended with this group. Victim support maybe, or therapy. She’s certainly managed to compile an awful lot for us to work on.’

‘Interesting too,’ said Marie. ‘I reckon there might be something in here that will lead us to our man’s identity. We have his image, courtesy of Simon. All we need now is a name and we can start the hunt.’

They read in silence. Then Jackman stopped, read again. ‘Look! Why didn’t I pick up on that when Annie mentioned it?’

Marie looked at him, her mouth slightly open.

‘God, I’m an idiot! It was something Fleur said about a boy who used to climb over the fence into her back garden and talk to her about what was going on in his neighbours’ house.’

‘Yes, I got that.’

‘It was a family that did a moonlight flit. What if it was Claire and Leon? And her husband. Of course! The man we’re looking for. And I happen to know someone who will tell us exactly who they are.’ Jackman reached for his mobile. ‘These people lived in my village. And who knows everything that’s ever happened there?’

‘Hetty Maynard! Your housekeeper.’

Jackman beamed at her. ‘Good old Hetty.’ He found her number and, tapping his foot, waited for her to answer. ‘Len? Evening, Len. Sorry it’s late. It’s Jackman here. Is Hetty around, please?’ He put the phone on loudspeaker.

‘Yes, Mr J? Everything all right?’

‘Yes, Hetty, just fine. I need your local knowledge. Do you have a few minutes?’

‘Oh yes, Mr J, certainly. How can I help?’

‘A family — husband and wife and a boy and a girl — who used to live at number nine, Glebe Close. Do you remember them? Or know their surname?’

Hetty said, ‘Oh them. Bit of a bad lot, I believe. They were nothing but trouble, or so people said. And the girl wasn’t theirs. Cassie was a niece who stayed with them for a while after her parents split up, and the mother took her back when she’d got herself sorted.’

That would be why Claire left with only the boy. ‘And their surname?’

‘Spiller. Yes, that’s it. Jordan and Claire Spiller. The boy was called Christopher, but the neighbours called him Teddy. When he was little, he always carried around this moth-eaten old teddy bear.’

‘Thank you, Hetty Maynard. You’re a diamond.’ At last. A real lead to Teddy. ‘Hetty, we were told they did a runner one night. Was that true?’