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and Lucy turned out to be quite different from the sour, stand-offish person she had seemed to be yesterday. She was funny, and incredibly sarcastic about everybody at Blight, Simpson & Vane; and althoughhe hadn’t thought she was very pretty yesterday, he suddenly saw her in a completely new light. She had wide blue eyes and a pouty mouth and a very mischievous laugh.
    â€œI didn’t think you liked me yesterday,” he said, as he finished the last dregs of his Coke.
    Lucy took out her handbag mirror and admired himself. “Do you think I need a nose job? No, I make it a rule never to like anybody on their first day. They might turn out to be total nerds and then where would you be? Friendly with a nerd.”
    â€œBut you don’t think
I’m
a nerd?”
    â€œNerd-
ish
, at times. But you’ll grow out of it. Just have a bit more confidence.”
    As they walked back to the office John said, “That Mr Vane’s weird. He gave me the creeps this morning.”
    â€œOh, there’s all kinds of rumours about Mr Vane. Liam thinks he’s a vampire. Courtney breaks out into a sweat just being in the same office with him. He’ll be dead glad he wasn’t there today.”
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œ
I
think that he’s got a terrible, terrible secret. It’s so awful that he doesn’t want anybody else to find out what it is. He’s got a different piece of the secret hidden in each of the houses on his special list, and that’s why he won’t let anybody else handle them, except him.”
    â€œAnd what’s the secret?”
    â€œHow should I know? If I knew what it was, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”
    That night, after his mother had gone to bed and Ruth had shut herself in her bedroom to play records, John and his father sat together in the sitting-room, watching television. They didn’t say very much, but they were both tired, and they didn’t really have to.
    After the news, John’s father stood up and stretched. “Think I’ll turn in now. I’m starting at six tomorrow.”
    He was just about to switch off the local news round-up when a face suddenly flashed on the screen. John said, “Dad – don’t! I want to listen to this!”
    â€œWhat?” said his father.
    The newsreader was saying, “…
missing from his home in Streatham. Police say that he was due to keep an important business appointment yesterday afternoon at two o’clock but failed to turn up. His car was found in a backstreet near Streatham Common station, containing his briefcase and other business papers. So far there are no clues as to where Mr Rogers might have gone
.”
    â€œIt’s Mr Rogers,” said John, excitedly. “Dad – Dad, it’s Mr Rogers!”
    â€œWho’s Mr Rogers when he’s at home? Not the chap who used to own the pet shop?”
    â€œNo, this is another Mr Rogers. He came into the office yesterday and asked me to give him the key to 66 Mountjoy Avenue. He was the man I got into trouble for.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me you got into trouble. What – on your first day?”
    â€œNo, look, listen! He wanted the key to 66 Mountjoy Avenue and I gave it to him when I shouldn’t have. But Mr Cleat went out and got it off him. But now he’s missing.”
    â€œWell, that’s not
your
fault, is it?”
    John said, “No. No, it isn’t. But he’s missing, isn’t he? He could have been kidnapped, couldn’t he? He could have been killed!”
    His father stood by the door and looked mystified. “If you say so,” he said.

5
    As soon as Lucy arrived at the office the following morning John frantically beckoned her into the kitchen. She was wearing a black short-sleeved blouse and a short white linen skirt and she had pinned up her hair.
    John said, “Did you see the news last night?”
    â€œNo, I went