They sat in the car, looking at the circus that was the photo shoot in the distance.

"Well?" said Oz. "Have you solved the case? Is he the kidnapper?"

"No." Ess shook her head. "He genuinely likes her, I think. And he says she left his studio about six. Which is something, I suppose, but I don't know where that gets us."

"Nowhere. Which is good."

Ess turned to him. "What?"

"Well, we don't want to solve the mystery too quickly, otherwise it's not much of a mystery. Besides, we're on a daily rate, aren't we?"

"Oz! There's a woman missing, maybe in danger."

"Oh shush. You know I'm just pulling your chain. Besides, we don't know that. I pumped the models whilst you were hob-nobbing with the nob." He waggled his eyebrows at Ess. "Lovely girls. A little anorexic for my tastes. I'd be afraid I'd snap something. Still, they have such big... ambitions. Anyway, much as they liked Daisy, despite the rivalry, they were of the opinion she is somewhat mercurial at the best of times." When Ess didn't react he continued. "Mercurial. It means -"

"I know what it means, Oz. Nick said the same thing. He thought she was probably sailing the Med or something."

"So, we wait. She turns up in a couple of days and we claim the credit. Jobs a good 'un."

"No. We look for her. Just because she's a free spirit doesn't mean she isn't in trouble. Besides, we promised."

Oz patted her hand. "Of course we did. I wouldn't expect anything less of you. So what next then? What vital clues did you glean from your new friend in the nobility?"

"Shut up."

"I shall interpret that as, 'Despite a vigorous and thorough interrogation no new data was forthcoming, so our only course of action is to wait and see if she turns up.' So much better than my plan."

"I mean it, Oz. Shut up. There's her agent. I've booked an appointment with her tomorrow. And there's Regents Park." It didn't seem much. She hated it when Oz was right. He would be so smug if she did turn up tomorrow.

"And maybe Lord Snapper or the Twig Triplets will hear something and give us a bell. Oh, that reminds me. I got some printed for you too." He leant to the side, fished in a pocket and produced a small cardboard box. Ess looked at the card glued to the top.

Vanessa Williams BA
and
Prof. E. F. Dawkins DD
Private Investigators

Both their phone numbers followed, but it was the job title in an ornate font that caught her eye. She stared at the card aghast.

"What?" said Oz, leaning over and looking at the card. "I spelled your name right. I put you first, though we both know you'd be nothing without me. What?"

"You can't do this," she said. "Private investigators? You can't just call yourself that. You need to be trained and licensed and stuff. And besides, we're not private investigators."

"No? Then what are we? We accept private commissions to find missing people, or at least missing entities of various species. And in actuality, we don't need to be licensed. You've been watching too many seventies American television shows. Oh, the government are making noises about it, but for the present we can call ourselves the grand poobars of crime-fighting for all it means. It's not like we carry concealed firearms. But on that note, I'm thinking of changing my name. Oz just doesn't sound right. Clint, maybe, or Rocky. Something dangerous and catchy."

"Like rabies? Look, you can't just go ahead and do things like this. I'm grateful for your help, when you're not being a clown or a perv, well, when you're not just being those, but you can't just make unilateral decisions like this. Why didn't you discuss this with me?"

"Because you would have reacted just like you are. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Besides, it was a special offer. Time limited, just for me. Very reasonable. And handing out cards saying you're an animal massage therapist is hardly going to open doors in the London underworld."

"Now who's been watching too many TV shows?"

Oz grinned, started the engine then twisted in his seat, scattering gravel in front of the car as he reversed out of the parking space.

"Or maybe the name of a place. You know, like Texas Pete or the Cincinnati Kid." He threw it into first and launched the car forward. He frowned. "Though Dorking Dawkins lacks a little punch, I fear."