‘All right, Antonio, thank you, darling,’ his mother interrupted, exchanging pained glances with her husband. ‘Off you go to tennis now.’
‘Where was the house?’ Williams grabbed the little boy by the arm.
‘He’s late for his lesson,’ Juan Encerrito said sternly. ‘Please, Mr Williams, do not abuse our goodwill. Your business does not concern my son.’
‘Sure it does.’ Williams matched the older man’s irritated tone. ‘I need that address, Señor Encerrito. Frederique Zidane may be the one person who actually knows what might have happened to Charlotte. Imagine how Charlotte’s poor family feel right now, sir, not knowing anything. How would you feel if it was your child?’ He nodded towards Antonio, who hovered anxiously, not sure whether to stay or go.
The boy’s father relented. ‘Do you remember where this house was, Antonio?’ he asked, gently.
‘Oh yes.’ The boy smiled. ‘I have an excellent memory.’ Turning to Williams he added helpfully, ‘I could take you there right now if you like?’
Frederique Zidane was a plain young woman in her early twenties, short with mousy brown hair and the sort of pale, doughy figure more usually associated with middle age. Her dress sense, however, made no concession to these shortcomings. She answered the door to Williams in a denim skirt so short it barely merited the name, and a tight white T-shirt beneath which a straining red lace bra was plainly visible. She was also obviously a kind person. When Williams explained the nature of his business, she bent over backwards to help.
‘Do you know, you’re the first person who’s bothered to come and talk to me about Charlie?’ she informed him, clearing a space on the messy sofa for him to sit down and pressing a glass of iced water into his hand. ‘Apart from that charity lady.’
‘Charity lady?’
‘From Missing,’ Frederique clarified. ‘They’ve been trying to help, getting Charlie’s name and picture out there. Which is great, ’cause the police here couldn’t care less.’
That’s interesting, Williams thought. He’d understood from Tucker and Mary Clancy that Valentina Baden and her charity had only contacted them recently, in the States, to offer them some free publicity. But now it seemed Valentina had taken an interest in Charlotte’s disappearance from the start. Strange she’d never mentioned that, or her meeting with Frederique, to the Clancys.
‘I was told the American police would be getting involved,’ Frederique went on, ‘but I never heard from them either.’
Born and raised in Rouen, she spoke English with only the slightest of French accents. Williams was impressed.
‘I traveled all over as a kid,’ Frederique told him. ‘I learned English as a baby but I also speak Spanish and Italian. I think that made it easier for me here. Poor Charlie was kind of isolated, because her Spanish wasn’t that great. She relied on me a lot to translate for her. And because I was older, you know? This job was her first time away from home. God, it’s so sad.’
‘I’m trying to build a picture of her life here, in the months she worked for the Encerritos,’ said Williams.
‘OK.’ Frederique leaned forward eagerly, a thick roll of belly fat escaping over the elastic of her skirt as she moved. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘The family she worked for said they never saw a boyfriend. Is that true?’
‘It’s probably true they never saw one,’ said Frederique. ‘But Charlie was seeing somebody, for sure. I already told the police this, and Missing, but they didn’t seem interested.’
‘I’m interested,’ Williams assured her. ‘Did you meet him? Do you know his name?’
Frederique shook her head. ‘No. That’s the whole thing. He was a secret. Charlie was really into him, she talked about him all the time. But he was married, and a lot older than her, and really rich and powerful – that’s what she said anyway. None of us were allowed to meet him or know who he was.’
Williams listened eagerly. This was a break, of sorts.
‘Was he Mexican? American?’
‘I don’t know his nationality, she never said. I assumed he was local, but maybe that was wrong … I do know he traveled a lot. He wasn’t always in town and Charlie would pine for him like a lost kitten whenever he was away.’
Williams made a note. ‘Do you know how they met?’
Frederique thought for a moment. ‘I think she met him at her employers’ house. Maybe he was a business associate of the dad?’
‘Anything else?’ Williams pressed her. ‘Did she tell you what job this man did, or any details about his family, his background? Anything that might help me track him down?’
‘Not really.’ Frederique bit her lower lip. ‘I’m not being much help, am I? I think he might have been in finance. It was some big-money job, anyway. And like I say, he was married but beyond that I don’t know. All she really talked about was how great he was in bed. That, and the presents he bought her.’
‘Presents?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Frederique’s big brown eyes lit up. ‘He bought her diamonds and thousand-dollar shoes. Really fancy, expensive stuff. She adored him, but it looked as if the feeling was mutual.’
‘And were they still together when she went missing?’ Williams asked. ‘Had they had a fight, or broken up?’