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afraid.”
    â€œOkay.” He turned to Jo. “Detective Sergeant?”
    â€œWell, as Catherine said, I’ve been looking into Number 12 St George’s Close. This is another empty property, but it’s as much a case of a missing person as a straightforward vacancy. Until less than a week ago the official tenant was a Mrs Alma Deverall. She terminated the tenancy by letter to the council last week. But, prior to that, she had been away from the house for at least five months, and during that time no-one seems to know where she has been. There was no forwarding address; and her rent was paid monthly in cash at the council rent office by a male carer. Presumably – although we don’t know this – he’s been picking up her mail from the close during that time. Somebody must have been because I’ve checked with the post office and they have no forwarding address for the property.
    â€œTwo points make this interesting. Firstly, the long gap between her leaving and deciding to end the tenancy – and the timing of the latter, just after the killings; and secondly, the lack of any clue to her whereabouts during that time – almost as if she’s been deliberately covering her tracks. There might be a simple explanation, but it’s worth checking further. This evening, I’m going to visit… ” – she consulted her notebook – “… a Mr and Mrs Ambrose at Number 11. Apparently, they’ve been there a long time and might be able to shed some light on Mrs Deverall’s disappearance.”
    David took up the story.
    â€œWe know that Mrs Deverall left her house at least five months ago, so there’s a very good chance it could have been more than six months. In which case, if there is some connection between her leaving and trouble on the estate, we wouldn’t have picked it up from the record search. So, unless DC Cottrell comes up with something sensational at the Ambroses’ tonight, we need to look further back – let’s say, initially, twelve months – and narrow the search down to any incident involving Mrs Deverall or anything that happened in St George’s Close, even if it didn’t directly concern her. Remember, ideally, we’re looking for a link to the Bradys, but as they orchestrated just about all the trouble on the estate, any incident would probably lead us back to them anyway. Any questions?”
    â€œIs there no record of a next-of-kin?” asked Omar Shakhir. “I would have thought the council would have some details.”
    â€œNone held now by the council,” said Jo. “Her son was named until a few years ago. Not checked with the DWP yet.”
    â€œWhat about the carer?” This time it was DC Emma Banks. “The NHS must have his details. He must know where she is.”
    â€œNot the NHS; they say he definitely wouldn’t be one of theirs. So he must be Social Services. I’ve contacted them and they’re going to get me his details. Once we get to speak to him, you’re right, Emma, that might well eliminate Mrs D from our enquiries.”
    â€œThat’s true,” put in David, “this may well turn out to be nothing to do with the killings. But we’ve got nothing else, so I want this search to go ahead – full steam. Any more questions?”
    No-one spoke.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “Let’s get all hands to the pumps starting tomorrow as near to dawn as we can – we’ll forego the coffee morning for once – and see what we can turn up for… let’s say… usual time, 4.00 pm tomorrow. If anyone comes up with something before then, let me know and I’ll get us all together right away. As I say, I’m not sure whether there really is something for us here or whether we’ve reached the straw-clutching stage. Let’s find out as soon as possible tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 4
    Jo Cottrell went round to