Rupert sat at his desk with a steaming black coffee daily at ten to nine. Today, he arrived at eight.

"You're early, sir," said the desk sergeant.

"I need to check on the cleaners. I will not have my staff working in a pigsty."

"I know them, sir. They do a pretty good job."

"That may be the case, sergeant. Have you seen those records my people are dealing with? They are disgusting."

"I understand, sir." He turned, "Bill, watch the front desk. I'm going with the governor to check the cleaners have done the business."

On exiting the lift, the sergeant waited while Rupert unlocked the doors. He waved his hand, operating the lighting sensor.

"All mod cons, sir."

"Saves money, sergeant. When the room is empty, the lighting goes off automatically."

"I know what you mean, sir. From experience, I know how many offices remain lit when the staff go home. I'll have to have a word with the office manager and have some of those units fitted."

Rupert scanned the open area before the lines of shelving. To his left unopened boxes of files covered the wall from floor to ceiling. "At least the rubbish has gone." He started walking, his eyes inspecting like a parade ground sergeant major. "They did as asked, sergeant. They will have the same again tonight. Make an entry in the log for the duty officer to check before the cleaners leave."

"Yes, sir. Is it alright if I return to the front desk, sir?"

"Of course. Thank you for checking with me."

"My pleasure, sir."

Rupert smiled as he strolled into his office and turned on the coffee perculator.

Wearing their white coveralls, the team arrived minutes later.

Maggie knocked on Rupert's office door and entered. "Morning, guv. Same as yesterday?"

Rupert held up both hands. "Until all the detritus we call material evidence finds a home. That's the way it is. You can't work any harder than you are."

She glanced into the storage room. "The team are great, and we laugh at some items in the boxes. So far, we have come across eight vibrators, and we have lost count of the bondage handcuffs. Julie was embarrassed when the first vibrator in the shape of a bent candle fell out of the box. Whatever you think, it's a ridiculous world out there."

Rupert grinned. "Make sure you put them back where they belong."

She chuckled. "Of course, guv." Turned and left.

He gazed through the glass panels of his office at his team. In pairs, they opened boxes, unloaded, read the description and logged them into the main directory.

The tray on his desk contained files needing a decision. He remembered the well-abused maxim of a cold case. An unsolved investigation pending further investigation.

He leant back in his chair, placed his hands behind his head, and remembered the oldest cold case. The murderer, "Jack the Ripper, terrified the Whitechapel area of London in 1888, killing at least five women and leaving their bodies mutilated in a way that indicated he was more than just a little familiar with human anatomy. Could he have been a surgeon? A horse doctor? No one knows because he was never caught.

Again, he glanced at the files. Did they return to the storage or require further investigation? He opened the first and grinned as he read each word. The report stated that a man was regularly seen walking along the main road of a nearby village naked. It had stopped, but no arrest was made. He checked the date forty years ago.

Removing a brand new rubber stamp from his desk drawer, he stamped CLOSED in red letters on the front.

"One down," he muttered. In his mind, he knew most of the records to be checked would be closed and no further action taken. The detective in him secretly wished for something of interest to land on his desk, but he doubted if it would. He pulled another file from the dusty heap.

Joan Dickson, age 38. He glanced at the photo stapled to the inside cover. She wore a red dress and was smiling at the camera. Hanging around her neck was a green opal pendant on a gold chain. Her long brown hair curved around her face. Married with two children, one boy and one girl. A local haulage company employed her husband as a driver. The report stated Joan employed a babysitting service for the evening she disappeared. The sitter told the investigating officer that Joan looked forward to her night out. On being asked, it was believed she met with the local vicar, Ian Spence. This, on further investigation, proved to be incorrect. The leader and members of the local Round Table confirmed his whereabouts. He was their guest speaker for the whole of the night in question.

Every enquiry produced nothing. When Joan left her house, she vanished without a trace. Reports were forwarded to The Salvation Army and British Red Cross.

Rupert was convinced people do not vanish without a trace. At some time, if they are alive, they make a mistake or contact their children but never the police.

He considered the situation. He was the disclosure officer, and Maggie and Julie could become the officers involved in a criminal investigation if he ordered. After nine years, he doubted if anything would have changed, but it was a start to the other half of his duties.

He stood, opened the door to his office and waited. When Maggie looked in his direction, he beckoned to her.

She dropped the bundle of files on top of another and walked to him. "Yes, Guv?"

"Grab Julie, wash your hands. We need to chat in my office.".

A few minutes later, Maggie and Julie seated themselves in front of his desk.

"Before we start. Julie, would you be so kind as to pour three cups of coffee?"

"No problem, boss."

Rupert smiled. "You two are not old enough to remember a radio programme called Listen with Mother. It started with the words, 'Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin. Part of your job is to assist me with cold cases. Maggie, you are passed for Inspector, so I expect you to instruct Julie on the rights and wrongs of policing. Today's question is why married women leave home never to appear again. Julie, please write out half a dozen reasons why women walk out of a marriage and, in some cases, never be seen again. Murder is not one of the answers. It is usually the result of a mad husband losing control. Julie, do you understand the question?"

With a broad smile on her face, she answered. "Yes, boss. I'll do my best."

"If you want to be promoted to sergeant, I need better than your best. Maggie will guide you, but I will be asking the questions."

"How long do I f have."

Rupert smiled. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning."