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The next morning, Toby had set the alarm earlier than he needed, in order to be ready for the Landseer car’s arrival. He wanted to ring Miss Crouch and she’d made it plain to him that the best time for calling her was before she left for work. And if Miss Crouch made it plain, nobody was going to argue with her, not even her favourite actor.

“Mr Bowe,” she said, on answering the telephone, sounding bright as a button. “You’re up with the lark.”

“I’m afraid so. I have filming today but before that, I’m on investigating business. We’ve been asked to find somebody who may or may not have gone missing. A young lady called Alexandra Cummings who apparently is a member of the excellent fan club you run, hence me ringing you at this unearthly hour. Her friend—a lady of my acquaintance—is worried about her.” Why did “lady of my acquaintance” sound horribly like a euphemism for girlfriend?

“We have at least one Alexandra among the membership. Sorry to be wishy washy but I don’t have all the details such as surnames at my fingertips.”

“Now that surprises me, Miss Crouch. I thought you’d have everything stored in that remarkable brain of yours.”

She snorted. “Save the flattery for one of your starlets. I have all the spare capacity of my memory strictly reserved for my patients. Ask me about one of them, and I could give you chapter and verse. That’s why I make everyone at the club wear name badges when we convene.”

“There’s me thinking those badges are purely for my benefit when I visit.” Toby chuckled.

“I no doubt said it was. Like I say at other meetings that it’s to help any new or occasional members, so they can feel more at ease. You’re the only one who knows it’s for my benefit.”

“I’ll keep your secret.”

“I believe you.” Miss Crouch’s chatty tone became professional again. “What’s this young lady like?”

“According to her friends, fairly nondescript. Pretty, soft spoken, of average height. She has brown hair and brown eyes. Might have an unusual interest in the weather,” Toby added, in case that rang a bell. “She might have a foot in two camps, as it were, being also a member of Alasdair’s fan club.”

“I see. I’m afraid I’m not aware of anyone who goes to both sets of meetings, but it’s possible they would keep it quiet in case of a fight about which of you or Alasdair is best. Someone with a foot in both camps might be regarded as either a traitor or a spy.”

“This conversation’s turning into a bit of an eye opener. When I see Alasdair at the studio, I’ll let him know about this internecine strife. He’ll be as shocked as I am.” Although would he, given that Mrs Richards could be telling him something similar?

“Some people are…let’s say fixated. You have no idea how cutthroat it can get around who occupies the front row of chairs when you come to one of our meetings. However, I digress. Let me check my records for your Alexandra, although I’m afraid I won’t be able to root through my files until this evening.”

“Take as much time as you need.” Although surely it would be a relatively easy job. There couldn’t be that many women in the fan club, could there? “If you could please let me know what you discover either here if it’s in the evening or via the Landseer office if you ring during the day. I’ll tell them to expect a call. And you must expect a call from me because this counts as duty above and beyond. I owe you a bottle of champagne.”

“There’s no need for that, although I’d be silly to refuse. Wish me luck.”

“I wish you every scrap of luck in the world.” Especially if it meant he got one over on Alasdair by finding the necessary address first.