But at this moment the mobile phone mounted upon the dashboard lights up to indicate an incoming email. DS Leyton stoically tosses the suit into the back seat and takes up the handset. ‘From the school, Guv – it’ll be the photo and the boy’s personnel file.’ Skelgill, however, is already distracted by the task of finding his way into the brown paper bag that holds his order of bacon rolls. ‘Holy smoke.’ ‘What?’ Skelgill sounds only vaguely interested. Guv – you won’t believe it – it’s Cholmondeley!’ ‘What’s he done?’ ‘No, Guv – the missing kid – the Chief’s son – it’s Cholmondeley!’ Skelgill squints at the grinning flame-haired boy whose image fills the screen. ‘Bloody hell – of course.’ ‘Guv?’ ‘The name – I knew it rang a bell.’ He snaps the fingers of his free hand. ‘The Chief goes by her maiden name, doesn’t she? That’s right – her old man’s a Cholmondeley. I’ve seen him once or twice with her in photos – you know, in the local rag, the court and social pages.’ ‘And the ginger hair, Guv. Stone me.’ Skelgill nods. ‘Yeah, the ginger hair.’ ‘Guv – it explains why the Housemother gave me a queer look when I referred to him by the Chief’s surname.’ Skelgill nods. ‘They’ll know both names – she probably assumed we use the mother’s.’ DS Leyton shrugs. ‘Yeah.’ He scratches his head rather distractedly. ‘Guv...?’ ‘Aha?’ Skelgill takes a substantial bite of his roll.
