He was good-looking, Annie thought. Late thirties or early forties, she guessed, tall, with earthy brown eyes and an athletic frame. He wore his hair cropped, like Banks, and had a neatly trimmed beard turning a little gray around the edges. The other man in the cook’s garb went over to his station and prepared to heat up some pizza and deep-fry the kebab. He was more well padded than his workmate, and probably a year or two younger, with a smoother, lighter complexion and slightly longer, greasy hair.

Gerry was making a face and mouthing, “Calories.”

“It’s all right,” Annie whispered. “You don’t have to eat the bloody thing.”

“Not from round these parts, are you?” the man asked. “I’m Sunny, by the way. This is my caff. Sunny’s Kebab and Pizza.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Annie. “No, we’re not from around here.”

“Thought I hadn’t seen you before.”

“Do you live nearby, Sunny?”

Now he started to appear suspicious. “Who’s asking?”

Annie showed him her warrant card.

“Fuzz,” he said. “I should have known.”

“Fuzz?” echoed Annie with a wide-eyed glance at Gerry. “Fuzz? Nobody calls us fuzz anymore.”

Sunny shrugged. “It’s the nicest word I know.”

“I’m confused,” said Annie. “What have we ever done to you that ‘fuzz’ is the nicest word you know for us? Just a few moments ago you were calling us ‘my lovelies.’ Now some women might find that offensive, but my friend and I don’t mind, do we, Gerry?”

“Always nice to be called lovely,” mumbled Gerry. “Better than fuzz.”

“We get harassed all the time. Insulted. Threatened. One of my friend’s sons got beat up just walking home from the mosque the other night. My friend down the Strip had a brick thrown through his window not so long ago. Did you lot do anything to help? No. You should have seen the trouble he had getting anything out of the insurance company.”

That is hardly a problem of racism, Annie thought. Nobody can get money out of an insurance company. But there was no point arguing. She had worked in racially sensitive areas, and she knew the score. Eastvale wasn’t one of them, but Wytherton clearly was. It was a delicate exercise in political correctness and positive discrimination. You really had to know your catchphrase of the day and jargon of the moment. Annie took the drawing out of her bag. “What my partner and I would really like to know is whether you’ve seen this girl around here.” She held up the image.

Annie could have sworn that an expression of shock and fear flashed across Sunny’s face before he said, rather too quickly, “No. I’ve never seen her before.”

Annie gestured to the cook. “What about your friend?”