‘Hold on, I’ll check the roster.’ The sound of computer keys clicking, then: ‘No, David’s not scheduled today. He’s got the day off.’
‘Has he been in at all? Maybe came in for something?’
‘Not that I’ve seen. Want me to ask around?’
‘No, that’s fine. Thank you.’ Brodie ended the call and turned to Lucy. ‘Day off. So where is he?’
‘Could be out shopping, running errands. Maybe visiting someone.’
‘Maybe.’ But Brodie’s instincts were telling him otherwise. They left the house.
Movement caught his eye – a curtain twitching in the neighbouring house. He nudged Lucy and nodded towards it.
‘We’ve got an audience. Let’s see if the neighbours know anything.’
The woman who answered the door was in her seventies, with carefully permed white hair and the kind of alert, interested expression that marked her as the neighbourhood’s unofficial watch commander. She looked them up and down with frank curiosity.
‘You’re police,’ she said before Brodie could introduce himself. ‘I saw you knocking at David’s door. Is something wrong?’
Brodie held up his warrant card anyway. ‘DCI Brodie, DI Warren. We’re trying to locate Mr Duffy. Have you seen him today?’
‘Oh yes, this morning. Around ten o’clock, I’d say. I was putting out my recycling and I saw him getting into a car.’
Brodie’s pulse quickened. ‘Can you describe the car?’
The woman’s brow furrowed with the effort of recollection. ‘Well, it wasn’t his usual one. David drives that little red thing – a Corsa, I think? But this was different. Bigger.’
‘What colour was it?’
‘Green, I think.’ She paused, uncertainty crossing her face. ‘Or possibly blue? I’m sorry, I’m not terribly good with cars. My late husband was the one who knew all about makes and models. It could have been either, really. One of those colours that looks different depending on the light.’
‘That’s all right,’ Brodie said, keeping his voice patientdespite his frustration. ‘What about the make or model? Was it a saloon, an estate, an SUV?’
‘I think it was a saloon? Four doors, ordinary-looking. Nothing fancy or sporty. Just a normal car, really.’ She looked genuinely apologetic. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more specific. I wasn’t paying close attention – I was more focused on sorting my bottles and cans.’
‘Was Mr Duffy driving, or was someone else?’
‘Oh, someone else was driving. David got into the passenger side. I remember thinking it was a bit odd because David usually drives himself everywhere. Very independent, he is. But I suppose maybe his car was in for repairs or something.’
Lucy leaned forward slightly. ‘Did you see the driver? Can you describe them?’
‘Not really, dear. The car was facing away from me, and I only caught a glimpse through the windows. I could tell it was a man – I think – but I couldn’t see his face or tell you what he looked like. Dark clothing, maybe? But that’s about all I can say.’
‘Did Mr Duffy seem distressed?’ Brodie asked. ‘Was he being forced into the car, anything like that?’
The woman looked startled. ‘Forced? No, nothing like that. He walked normally, got in the car like it was perfectly ordinary. They drove off quite calmly. Should I have been worried? Is David in some kind of danger?’
‘We’re just trying to locate him for an ongoing investigation,’ Brodie said, pulling out a card and handing it to her. ‘If you see Mr Duffy return, or if you remember anything else about the car or the driver, please call me immediately. It’s very important.’
‘Of course. I do hope David’s all right. He’s such a nice man, very quiet, keeps himself to himself. Never any trouble.’
‘Thank you for your time.’
Back at their car, Lucy was already on her phone, calling thestation. ‘We need to put out a locate notice for David Duffy. White male, fifty-three years old, last seen getting into a green or blue saloon car in Glenrothes at approximately 10a.m. today. Unknown make or model, driver unidentified male.’
Brodie leaned against the car, his mind working through the implications. David Duffy had got into a car with someone willingly, which suggested he knew the driver and trusted them.
Lucy was already back on her tablet, pulling up records and making connections. ‘I’m checking for family properties – anything that might be in the Duffy name, inherited from parents, holiday cottages, anything remote where you wouldn’t be easily found.’
