Double Fault by Judith Cutler

them she’d spoken to the priest who was going to marry Mark and her and asked her to start praying, they’d think she was fit for the funny farm. ‘Apart from those we know about, those you’ve interviewed, none of the players went missing at all? Even if they said they were just using that Portaloo that Mark loathes so much?’
    â€˜No. And none of them has any sort of record. There is one guy who turned up out of the blue and promptly disappeared: we’ve still to trace him. Not much to go on. Just the name Stephen and an appointment at the dentist. Someone’s still checking all the dentists in Kent for a patient called Stephen. Trouble is, no one can recall the make of his car, let alone the reg.’
    Fran gave a sour laugh. ‘Why am I not surprised? Mark says some of the members can’t remember which side of the court they’re supposed to be on. OK, finding him is clearly a priority.’ Unlike Mark to forget a thing like that, all the same. She’d call him the moment she could. ‘Get on to the media, but make it clear we only want him as a witness, not a suspect.’ She drew breath. ‘I’d say our main lines of enquiry must be means of transport and means of concealment. And, tell you what, Ray, I’d suggest you ask Mark to come straight here as soon as he’s returned Marco and Phoebe to their parents.’
    â€˜Have done already, guv’nor. But I don’t think you mean as part of the phone team, do you? More as a witness.’
    â€˜Actually, as neither. You know how you natter at the end of the day about this and that. I’m sure he’s casually dropped out stuff that might just have a bearing, and maybe if you and he just sat down over a coffee … You never know: the brain often throws things up when it’s not trying. Like the make of Stephen’s car.’
    Madge asked, ‘Guv’nor, what did you mean by
means of concealment
? A very large tennis bag? That sort of thing? Or more like the false wall we’ve got at the youth centre?’
    â€˜A tennis bag – hell, even one of those monsters the pros use for tournaments would be hard put to hold a child. Wouldn’t it? I’ll check, all the same. As for walls, we’ve tapped on every single bloody wall at Hogben House,’ Ray said, sounding defensive or exhausted. Or both. ‘Twice. And checked every single rubbish and recycling bin. And all the outhouses.’
    â€˜I’d expect nothing less,’ Fran said, with a warm smile. ‘Look, we could start going round in circles, we’re all so knackered. Heads down for a couple of hours, both of you – I don’t need to write it as a formal order, do I? And then Ray and I can talk to Mark, and you, Madge, just keep pegging away. Talk to Tom Arkwright about his search for Malcolm Perkins. The sooner we find him the better – but just for the time being, we won’t go for media coverage. Twenty-four more hours really hammering at the kidnap case. Then we’ll have to let rip on the wall.’
    Madge amazed her by throwing back her head and laughing. ‘You’ve reminded me of a play I saw at Stratford. Where they talk to the Wall? Two bumpkins.’
    â€˜
Midsummer Night’s Dream
,’ Ray said. ‘A level. Two lovers. Pyramus and Thisbe. Shit. What if any of the kids behind that wall were lovers?’ His face went stiff. He asked, as if he needed reassurance, ‘Fran, do you ever find yourself thinking of victims just as part of a case, not part of a family, as statistics, not individuals?’
    â€˜It’s all too easy. But I’d bet my pension you don’t think of Livvie as a statistic or part of a case. Now shoo, both of you. Snooze time.’
    â€˜For you too, guv?’ Ray asked, over his shoulder.
    â€˜Long enough to make me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when we talk to Mark tonight,’ she promised, ostentatiously