This, of course, was the nub of it, but Hardy played it down. ‘Phyllis might have lost the message. Happens all the time,’ he lied.

‘I’ll call Susan,’ Moses said, referring to his wife. ‘Maybe she’s heard something.’

‘OK.’ Hardy looked at his watch. Two fifty. ‘I’m sure she’ll be home anytime. I’ll call.’

Forty-five minutes later, the phone had rung twice more, but neither one was Frannie.

First had been Susan, checking to make sure that Moses had not misinterpreted what Hardy was saying. Was Frannie really missing? Hardy didn’t want to say that, not yet. She just wasn’t home yet. He’d call Susan back when he heard from her.

The second call was Erin Cochran, home from a long weekend that she and her husband Ed had spent in the Napa vineyards. No, she hadn’t talked to Frannie in a week. Mrs Wilson’s call on her machine had told her that Frannie hadn’t gone to pick up the children, then she’d gotten Hardy’s message. What was going on? Was Frannie back yet?

She tried to hide it, but the worry in her voice was unmistakable. It was now nearly three hours since Frannie should have picked the kids up at school and Hardy still hadn’t even heard from her? Did he need help at home? Erin could be right over.

Hardy admitted that maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea.

He’d put off making the next call for as long as he could, but now – nearly four thirty, with two red-eyed children at the table listlessly pushing around some Graham crackers and milk – he punched in a number he knew by heart.

‘Glitsky. Homicide.’

Lieutenant Abe Glitsky, the chief of San Francisco’s homicide department, was his best friend. Being in the criminal justice system, Glitsky could circumvent a lot of bureaucracy.

‘Abe, it’s Diz.’

This was so different from their usual obscene or ironic greeting that it raised Glitsky’s red flag. ‘What the matter?’

Hardy told Abe to hold a minute, then stood up with the portable phone, and told Rebecca and Vincent he was talking to Uncle Abe – adult stuff – he was just going into the living room for a little privacy. He’d be right back. They should keep eating their snacks.