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wherever she wished to go free of charge, in recognition of all that her husband had done for his career, but she always insisted on paying him. Like her late husband, Mrs Pargeter was a great believer in the encouragement of free enterprise.
    The chauffeur delivered her to the Savoy, where she checked into her room and changed into a beautifully cut rich lilac evening dress. She dined early in the hotel, and went by taxi to see a new musical which had received extravagantly favourable notices. Back at the hotel she had half a bottle of champagne in her room.
    She woke too late the next morning to bother about breakfast, but made up for it with a huge traditional English lunch.
    On the dot of three-thirty the limousine arrived to take her back to Smithy's Loam.
    It had been a very restful weekend. Among the many things for which she had to be grateful to the late Mr Pargeter was the way he had taught her to enjoy treats.
    CHAPTER 10
    Mrs Pargeter began the continuation of her campaign at nine-thirty sharp on die Monday morning. She got through to Littlehaven's straight away.
    'Oh, good morning. My name is Pargeter. I wonder if you could help me? I'm ringing about a removal job you did last week.'
    'Listen,' a truculent male voice objected, 'if you've got any complaints, you should've got back to us within twenty-four hours. We can't possibly be expected to— '
    'It isn't a complaint.'
    'Oh,' said the voice, partly mollified but still wary.
    'You see, I'm the person who's moved into the house from which you removed the previous owner's possessions.'
    'If anything got left behind, we must've had instructions about it. My men are very thorough. They don't go around—'
    'No, no, it's all right.' Mrs Pargeter was beginning to wonder whether paranoia was an occupational hazard of furniture removers. 'The fact is,' she continued, 'that the former owner of the house did give me her address, but I've lost the piece of paper she wrote it on and I am sure you must have on your records some— '
    'Look, if you want a flaming Missing Persons bureau,' the voice complained, unaware of how apt its words were, 'you've come to the wrong place. I'm running a removals business here. I haven't got time to bust a gut chasing information about – '
    It wasn't worth pointing out that in the time he had taken to say all that, he could have found the information and given it to her. Instead, soothingly, she interrupted, 'That wasn't the only reason for my call. I might also be putting some business your way.'
    The lie had the required effect. 'Oh. What sort of business?'
    'Um . . . A removal job,' she replied, thrown by the question.
    'Well. In that case . . . who was the person you were enquiring about . . . you know, last week's job . . . ?'
    'The name was Cotton. Smithy's Loam.'
    'Oh, yes. The Surrey job. Long way for us, that is. Don't usually go that far. So what was it you wanted to know?'
    'The Cottons' new address. Where you delivered to the other end.'
    The voice laughed harshly. 'Well, we didn't deliver the other end, did we?'
    'What, you mean you got there and found the address didn't exist?' Her question burst out instinctively.
    'Eh?' The voice sounded bewildered. 'No, of course we didn't. It wasn't a removal job from one house to another. It was a storage job.'
    'So you mean you now have all the Cottons' furniture in store?'
    'That's right. In containers. In our warehouse. Five miles away from here.'
    'Ah.' The extent of the planning behind Theresa Cotton's disappearance was becoming clearer by the minute. 'And did Mrs Cotton say how long she wanted everything stored?'
    'Well, she paid for six months in advance. Said it might be longer, though. Her husband had got some posting abroad or something.'
    'Really?'
    'Look, what is this?' The voice was again becoming suspicious. 'Why are you asking all this stuff?'
    'Well, as I say, what I really wanted was the Cotton's new address . . .'
    'I haven't got it. And if you don't mind,