Many Rivers to Cross

Chapter 15

Naturally, both Jason’s and Chris’s parents made a big fuss when the police came by the following morning to take their sons in for interviews under caution, search their rooms, and impound their computers and Chris’s car for forensic analysis. Both sets of parents trailed down to the station behind their boys and demanded to be present at any interviews. As both suspects were over eighteen, their requests were denied. Jason was placed in interview room one, and Chris in room three, both with their duty solicitors. The outraged parents went back outside the building and threw themselves into slagging off the police to the assembled media crowd, who loved every minute of it.

While Chris and Jason waited in the sterile and stuffy interview rooms, listening to their lawyers brief them, the team went to Banks’s office, where they drank strong coffee, planned strategy and simply let time pass. At one point, Banks sent Gerry over to the lab to find out the status of the tests. It was too soon, but Jazz had determined so far that the blood was human; the DNA test had been underway for a while. There was a good chance she would be ready later in the morning. Banks wasn’t too concerned, as he knew it would work just as well as a threat. Under PACE, they could hold the boys for twenty-four hours, anyway, by which time Jazz would certainly have finished her tests. If Chris or Jason had stabbed Samir, then they would know already that his blood was in the park, and perhaps also that their DNA was on the roaches or chewing gum found there, too. Still, a positive result before or during the interviews would certainly help. And a murder weapon.

‘Let’s take Jason first,’ Banks said. ‘Annie, you come with me. Gerry, stay on top of the lab.’

If Gerry was upset at being excluded from the interviews, she didn’t show it. Banks and Annie marched to interview room one, dismissed the constable standing guard over Jason and sat down. In contrast to Chris Myers’s golden curls, Jason had straight dark hair over his ears and down to his collar. He was also a little overweight. Not obese, exactly, but not as slender and athletic as his friend. He looked as if he would be the last one to be picked for the rugger team at school games.

And Jason was nervous. He had clearly been biting his knuckles and fingernails, though he tried to stop when Banks and Annie entered. It wasn’t long before he was chewing on them again. Sitting beside him was Harriet Lucas, a duty solicitor Banks had worked with before on a number of occasions; he had always found her fair and unflappable.

‘I don’t know what all this is about,’ Jason said, ‘but I’ve got an important exam this afternoon.’

‘We’ll inform your school if we need to keep you beyond the exam’s starting time.’

‘But... that’s hours yet. You can’t...’ He turned towards Ms Lucas, who simply shook her head once.

‘The exams can wait,’ said Banks. ‘There’ll always be another opportunity. It takes as long as it takes, Jason. If you cooperate, we’ll be done in no time.’ But you won’t be heading out to sit any exams, he thought.

Then Annie started up the recording machines and cautioned Jason. When Ms Lucas had explained the caution to him, and he had said that he understood, they began.

‘You know why we’re here, Jason,’ said Banks. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier and quicker if you just told us what happened that Sunday night in the park?’

‘What Sunday night? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘A week ago last Sunday, when you and Chris Myers were down in the little park at the bottom of Elmet Hill smoking marijuana.’

‘We weren’t there. And you can’t prove anything.’

‘Oh, yes, we can. We turned up quite a lot of evidence there yesterday, and the scientists have been working overtime on it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re expecting the results any moment. We told them to bring what they found straight here to us.’

‘I don’t believe you. Even if you did find stuff, you can’t know when it was put there, or who by.’

‘If we find Samir’s blood, we’ll know that it wasn’t put there after that Sunday night, because that’s when he was murdered.’

‘A bit melodramatic, Superintendent,’ Ms Lucas interjected.

‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ said Jason.

‘What about if we find your DNA in the saliva on those roaches, or the chewing gum?’

‘I don’t chew gum. What roaches?’

‘Didn’t you know? We found two roaches in the woods there, close to where we found the blood. We think you were there smoking up when Samir turned up and you killed him. You forgot to take them with you when you left the scene. Sloppy, Jason.’

Jason said nothing. Banks thought he could hear the wheels turning.

‘We know Chris was involved with drugs because he was caught at a drug party last year,’ he went on. ‘You’re his best mate. It’s no great stretch to say you were involved, too, even if you weren’t at that particular party.’

Ms Lucas whispered in Jason’s ear, and he said, ‘No comment.’

‘How long have you been carrying a knife, Jason?’

‘I don’t carry a knife.’

‘But you were carrying one on the night we’re talking about, weren’t you? Why? Were you nervous about being in the park, about being out so near Hollyfield after your sister had been attacked? She said she was scared to walk through there by herself.’

‘That’s stupid.’

‘Mr Bartlett says he wasn’t carrying a knife,’ said Ms Lucas. ‘I think we should leave it and move on unless you can prove differently.’

‘Fine. But is it really so stupid, Jason? Ask yourself. I don’t think so. What do you think of people from the Middle East? What do you think of Muslims?’

‘What? I don’t think anything about them.’

‘I think you do. I’ve read your essay. You talk about “migrant hordes streaming over the sea and through the ports” and “open floodgates poisoning our society, our culture”. You say that if it’s allowed to go on, we “won’t be able to live by our own laws in our own country any more and there won’t be any jobs left for honest, decent white people”. You call them “no better than animals” and accuse them of “raping our women”. You say we need to leave Europe and close our borders. Did you write that, Jason?’

‘So what if I did? It’s true. A person’s entitled to his opinions, isn’t he? It’s still a free country. At least it was last time I looked.’

‘Don’t you realise that even if we end free movement throughout the Union, it won’t mean getting rid of migrants, of all the migrants, especially the Pakistanis and blacks that seem to bother you so much? They’re not from Europe, Jason. Samir wasn’t from Europe.’

‘I know that. They’re all the same, though, when you get right down to it. They’re all foreigners. They’re different from us. They’re contaminating our culture, our breeding, our way of life.’

‘We’ve got your computer, Jason. We’re well aware of the sick websites you’ve been visiting, the kind of hate literature you’ve been reading. Is that what spurred you on to kill Samir?’

‘I didn’t kill anyone.’

‘Was it Chris, then? Did he do it? We know it happened when you were both in the park that night and Samir ran there from Hollyfield Lane.’

‘How can you know that? You weren’t there. You’re just bluffing, trying to trick me into confessing to something I didn’t do.’

‘If you tell us now, Jason, things will go better for you. If you help us.’

Jason folded his arms. ‘We didn’t do anything.’

‘Where’s the knife, Jason? What did you do with it?’

‘I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Superintendent, I thought we’d left the knife behind us?’ said Ms Lucas.

‘They didn’t do that,’ said Banks. ‘They took it with them.’

‘Cheap shot. You know what I mean. Stick to the script.’

‘Why did you do it?’ Banks asked Jason. ‘Surely it wasn’t because he saw you taking drugs? Surely you didn’t think he’d tell? And so what if he did? Was it because he was Middle Eastern? One of them? The migrant hordes. He was just a child, Jason. He was only thirteen.’

Jason just shook his head.

Banks let the silence stretch for a while, then handed over to Annie. ‘Did you know Samir before that night in the park?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Jason. ‘I mean no, I didn’t know him at all. Ever. Stop trying to trick me. And there wasn’t no night in the park.’

‘Is that where you got your drugs? The house on Hollyfield Lane? Did you know it was a trap house for the county line?’

‘You’re way off beam. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t you? Am I? Did something go wrong? Did Samir short-change you? Did he sell you a bad product?’

‘I never bought nothing off of him.’

‘You’re a bright boy, Jason. Look at you, you go to a posh private school. Your sister doesn’t. Lisa only goes to Eastvale Comprehensive. That’s how she got assaulted, walking home from there after a dance. Did you think it was Samir who did that to her? Or someone like him? Maybe if she went to a private school, like you, it would never have happened. How does that make you feel? Does it trouble you?’

‘It’s not my fault. I hate that fucking school, all right? I never asked to go there.’

‘So what happened?’

‘My dad. Mum and Dad. They wanted me to go, become a doctor or a lawyer or something. Go to fucking Oxford or Cambridge or somewhere. I never wanted it. They could only pay for one of us to go.’

‘And you were their best bet?’

Jason just glared at her.

‘Interesting as all this is, DI Cabbot,’ said Ms Lucas, ‘I can’t really see the point in this line of questioning. Can we move on to the matter at hand?’

‘Maybe I don’t know enough to judge,’ Annie said, ‘but I’ve met both of you, and I’d say Lisa is by far the brightest. Was it you who planted the idea in her mind that her attacker was dark-skinned?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Sure you do. It sounds like the kind of thing you would say. The kind of thing you wrote about in that article they wouldn’t publish in the school magazine.’

‘The school’s corrupt. They make their money from terrorists paying to have their kids educated here so they can infiltrate us and kill us.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ Annie asked.

Jason said nothing.

‘The matter at hand, Ms Cabbot,’ said Ms Lucas. ‘No sense going off on ideological tangents.’

‘Lisa didn’t see her attacker,’ Annie said. ‘She had no idea what colour he was. He came from behind, knocked her down.’

‘She saw his hand.’

‘Did she? Or did you convince her that she did? You got her so confused, Jason, that she thought she’d been attacked by a dark-skinned person because you believe they’re the ones who do all the raping and assaulting in this country, don’t you? You see, Lisa never mentioned that he was dark-skinned when we started our investigation, when DC Masterson first questioned her.’

‘She was in shock then. Confused.’

‘It was you who confused her. Your own sister. Just to fit in with your sick beliefs.’

‘DI Cabbot, is any of this really relevant?’ asked Ms Lucas.

‘I’m trying to discover whether this was a hate crime,’ Annie said. ‘I’d say that’s a reasonable line of inquiry, wouldn’t you?’

Ms Lucas sighed. ‘Very well. Carry on. But you’re on a short leash.’

Annie squared her shoulders. ‘Were you getting your revenge for what happened to Lisa, Jason? Taking it out on the first dark-skinned person you could find? Did you do it for Lisa? Because she couldn’t go to a posh school? Because she got assaulted on her way home from a dance at the local comprehensive? Did you kill Samir for Lisa?’

Jason put his hands over his ears. ‘Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more. I didn’t kill anyone. I want to go home.’

‘Look,’ said Banks, gently taking over the questioning again. ‘I understand, Jason. Honest, I do. You had all this stuff going around in your head about migrant hordes, Lisa had been assaulted, you’d been smoking marijuana, then all of a sudden this young Arab lad just turns up out of the bushes. He was running away from someone. Someone he thought was going to harm him but was simply charged with taking him home. But he ran into you, didn’t he? He startled you. That’s understandable. And you took out your knife and stabbed him. Why? Did you think he was armed? Did you think he was going to attack the two of you? Big strapping lads. Bigger than him, older than him.’

Jason started shaking his head from side to side and banging his fist on the table. Ms Lucas put her hand on his shoulder to calm him. Banks glanced at Annie. There wasn’t much point going on right now, he thought, so he gave her the nod and they left the room.

‘I’m not going to lie to you, Chris,’ said Banks, ‘but Jason is very upset back there. I think he finally realised the enormity of what you’ve both done, and it’s overwhelmed him.’

Chris Myers gave a sly grin. ‘Jason’s no fool,’ he said. ‘Besides, we weren’t in the park that night, so why would he say we were?’

‘I’m not saying he admitted you were. But something about our questions upset him. Where were you that night?’

‘What night?’

‘Sunday before last.’

‘At home studying.’

‘You didn’t see Jason?’

‘We’re not inseparable, you know. Yes, he’s my mate, yes, I give him a lift to school, but we’re not joined at the hip.’

‘Would your parents vouch that you were at home that evening around half past ten?’

‘I suppose so. If they remember. I was up in my room most of the evening revising, and they were downstairs watching TV, so I didn’t see them.’

‘It wouldn’t have been too hard to nip out without being seen, then, would it?’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘For a smoke.’

‘I don’t smoke.’

‘You know what I mean. And you do have a track record with drugs.’

‘Oh, that fucking stupid party again,’ said Chris. ‘I wish I’d never been there. Do you know, I had no drugs at all that night? I didn’t even get high. Nothing. OK, so I had a few cans of beer, and I wasn’t old enough to drink. Big fucking deal. Arrest me. I was only there cause there was a girl I fancied. A college girl. It’s not as if we’re constantly surrounded by totty at school.’

‘I think the statute of limitations has run out on your underage drinking,’ Banks said. ‘Not to mention lust.’

Even the duty solicitor, Willy Carnwood, managed a smile at that.

‘Who had the knife, Chris? Was it you or Jason? He denies it, but then—’

There came a knock on the door, followed by DC Gerry Masterson carrying a file folder. Normally, Banks would have been annoyed at the interruption, but he had asked Gerry to come immediately if anything turned up at the lab. By the expression on her face, something had.

Banks thanked her, noted what had happened for the tape recordings and took the folder. Annie edged closer to read it over his shoulder. Gerry remained in the interview room, standing by the door.

‘Hmm,’ said Banks. ‘This is interesting.’

‘May I see it?’ asked Willy Carnwood.

Banks had hoped he wouldn’t ask, but as he had, he knew he would have to pass the file across. But not just yet. ‘It’s just come in, as you know,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to refer to it during my questioning. Then I’ll make sure you get to see it.’

Carnwood nodded. ‘OK.’

‘Want to know what it says?’ Banks asked Chris.

Chris looked nonchalant, bored even. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me anyway,’ he said with a sneer.

‘Yes. I think we might be able to bring these proceedings to a swift conclusion.’

‘You mean I can go home?’

‘Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.’ Banks tapped the sheets in front of him. ‘See, the DNA analysis of the traces of blood we found in the park is a match for the samples taken from Samir Boulad’s body. It’s Samir’s blood, Chris. No doubt about that.’

Though Chris now looked a little less nonchalant, he merely shrugged and said, ‘So what? Seeing as I’ve already told you I wasn’t there that night, I don’t see what it has to do with me. I’m very sorry and all that. It’s terrible that such a thing should happen so close—’

‘Oh, cut the crap,’ said Banks.

Carnwood shot him a reproving glance, but Banks carried on.

‘Well, in itself, maybe it doesn’t mean too much to you right now that we found traces of Samir’s blood in the woods. But our toxicologist also found two different DNA samples in the saliva from the roaches and chewing gum we recovered; your feelings might change when we have samples for comparison from you and Jason.’

‘What? No way.’

‘Oh, there’s a way, all right,’ said Banks. ‘Ask your solicitor. We’ll be taking mouth swabs or plucked hairs while he’s present. Or we can get a doctor to come in and take a blood sample, if you give your written consent. Believe me, we’ve plenty of grounds for arrest or a court order. Your choice. Anyway, the best is yet to come.’

Banks let the silence stretch and watched Chris chew his lower lip.

‘Our technicians haven’t finished the analysis and comparisons yet, but they also found traces of blood in the boot of your car. It’s being analysed further as we speak. Now what are the odds against us finding it’s a match for Samir’s, too?’

Chris swallowed and Banks guessed from his expression that he was doing a lot of quick thinking and re-evaluating his position. He hardly seemed aware of the duty solicitor’s presence. Finally, he rested his palms on the desk and said, ‘OK, I’ll make a statement. But it wasn’t me who stabbed him. It was Jason.’

As usual, the ‘celebration’ of a case solved was a sweet and sour affair, taking into account the sense of achievement in uncovering a killer, and the awareness of how many lives the revelation would ruin in addition to the killer’s and his family’s.

But alcohol helped blur the lines, and in its glow, tears soon turned to euphoria, and the mingled feelings of sorrow and regret had morphed into black humour by the time the third pint came along. It helped that they’d had another, albeit vicarious, success that afternoon: a man caught for a sexual assault in Hull had admitted to also assaulting Lisa Bartlett in Eastvale. A white man.

It also helped that Cyril, the landlord of the Queen’s Arms, was playing one of his most upbeat playlists. Even Ray would have appreciated the inclusion of ‘Lady Rachel’ by Kevin Ayers among the more standard sixties’ fare of The Who, Kinks, Byrds and Stones. Banks slugged back some beer. The Beatles’ ‘And Your Bird Can Sing’ came up next, two minutes of pure joy.

Sausage rolls and pasties appeared on their tables, courtesy of Cyril. It was a quiet night, and he clearly appreciated the business a solved case had brought him. Annie was there, deep in conversation with Stefan Nowak, whom Banks knew she fancied. Gerry chatted away with a very pregnant Winsome, demurely sipping orange juice, her husband Terry beside her. Jazz Singh and Vic Manson had got stuck with AC Gervaise — ACC McLaughlin had sent his congratulations, and regrets — and Banks felt outside it all, watching over them like a founding father. One thing was certain, he was the oldest in the group, though Vic couldn’t be too far behind.

The door opened and Joanna MacDonald walked in, a breath of fresh air. She smiled all around and made a beeline for Banks. He had invited her, but he hadn’t expected her to come.

‘All by yourself?’ she said, sitting down beside him.

‘So it would appear. Drink?’

‘I’ll have a G&T, please.’

Banks went to the bar and got her one, along with another pint of Timothy Taylor’s for himself. The cobbled market square was darkening fast outside, and one or two people still sat drinking and smoking at the tables Cyril had put out. The Beatles finished, and a more subdued Françoise Hardy came on singing ‘All Over the World’ in English. How Banks had lusted after her when he was a teenager. It wasn’t merely her beauty or her voice, but the whole ‘Frenchness’ of it all; her world was exotic, foreign, intoxicating; it reeked of Gauloises and Calvados. Her French version of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Suzanne’ sounded particularly sexy.

Banks carried the drinks back to the table. Joanna took a dainty sip and said, ‘I’ve heard the edited highlights, but maybe you’d like to tell me the full story?’

‘It seems ages since we sat last here and you told me about Blaydon,’ Banks said.

‘I gather he didn’t do it?’

‘No. Not to worry, though. He’s done plenty, and he certainly had a hand in it. We’ll be paying him another visit before too long.’

‘So what happened?’

‘You were spot on about the county lines connection. They were using a house on the Hollyfield Estate. It belonged to an old sixties junkie called Howard Stokes, who let them use it as a dealing centre in exchange for heroin. The whole estate has been condemned to make way for a new development — one of Blaydon’s projects — which I understand isn’t progressing too well.’

‘Why not?’

Banks shrugged. ‘The economy. Austerity. Whatever. It seems people aren’t in a mood for new shopping centres, and his home-building plans didn’t quite match up with the affordable social housing ideas the government has in mind, so there go the grants. It’s on hold, and the investors are getting antsy. Including your Leka Gashi.’

‘So Gashi is involved?’

‘About as deep as you can get. He’s known Blaydon for years, from the Corfu days, and he may even have helped him get rid of his partner Norman Peel, all those years ago. Though we’ll never prove that. But Gashi and his heavies took over the county line from a dealer called Lenny G, who was a pussycat by comparison. He turned up gutted in the Leeds-Liverpool Canal a few weeks ago.’

‘Charming. What’s Blaydon’s part in all this?’

‘I was just coming to that. He’s not directly involved, as far as we know, but he’s business partners with Gashi and does him little favours now and then. Like you said, Blaydon likes to think he’s playing with the big boys. I think Gashi probably treats him like a gofer, but it gives him the criminal’s credibility he seems to crave. That and the drugs and girls it gives him access to. He’s quite famous for his parties. I walked in on one a few days ago.’

Joanna raised an eyebrow. ‘And?’

‘It was a sort of aftermath, really, but quite interesting. The morning after. A few people sleeping, one or two lounging about in the pool, a couple of naked girls, three people having sex in one of the bedrooms.’

‘You sound envious.’

‘Not at all. Especially as the girls were young enough to be his granddaughters. Besides, once you’ve talked to Zelda, you can never be sure that someone like that doesn’t come from a similar background of trafficking and slavery and sexual abuse.’

‘But Blaydon didn’t kill the Syrian boy?’

‘Samir. No. That was a different thing altogether. A different set of unfortunate circumstances. Coincidences, if you like. Of course, the culprits denied it at first, but we got it out of them. We found both their fingerprints matched some on the wheelie bin Samir was dumped in. First Chris Myers, the one who didn’t actually stab Samir, cracked and told us his mate Jason Bartlett did it. Then when we confronted Bartlett with the DNA evidence and his friend’s statement, he broke down and confessed. All above board. Solicitors present, and all. And both are eighteen, so they’ll be facing adult court and adult prison time.’

‘That’s sad.’

‘It is. It’s a great waste. But it’s not half as fucking sad as what happened to Samir. Pardon my French.’

Joanna smiled and patted his arm. ‘You’re forgiven.’

‘It seems Bartlett had taken to carrying a knife ever since his sister was attacked and sexually assaulted on her way home from a school dance over a month ago. Just a kitchen knife with a four-inch blade, but it was long enough and sharp enough to kill Samir. He says he threw it in the river later. There’s not much chance of our finding it. According to his head teacher, Jason Bartlett has got some rather nasty racist views. I read an article he wanted to publish in the school magazine, saw the websites he visits, and it’s true. The usual diatribe against immigrants, especially Muslims and everyone with a darker skin colour than himself. We also found some nasty white supremacy sites bookmarked in his Internet browsing history. Anyway, it seemed he somehow half-convinced his sister that she’d been attacked by a dark-skinned man, even though she maintained at first, and later on, that she hadn’t seen her attacker, not even his hand.’

‘So he was already wound up and jumpy about immigrants?’

‘Yes. Just when you start to think that this generation has got beyond the racism of your own, someone like Bartlett comes along.’

‘It’ll always be around. You know that. What happened on the night of the murder?’

‘Two worlds collided. It was Samir’s first time in Eastvale as a line manager for Gashi. The poor kid had been through hell. I’m not saying he didn’t know he was doing wrong, but these people groomed him and exploited him. So he came up here on the bus with a backpack full of heroin and crack cocaine and headed straight for Stokes’s house. Unfortunately, when he got there, Stokes was dead from an overdose. We think it was either accidental or self-administered, and we may never know which. Anyway, Samir freaked and rang Gashi, who happened to be down in London on business at the time. Gashi phoned Blaydon, who was dining nearby at Le Coq d’Or, and asked him for a favour.’

‘Lucky him,’ said Joanna. ‘It’s a really great restaurant.’

‘You’ve eaten there?’

‘Yes. Why not?’

‘The price, for a start.’

‘Let’s just say I had a generous boyfriend.’

‘Had?’

She thumped him playfully and picked up her glass. ‘Get back to your story. Blaydon was having dinner at Le Coq d’Or.’

‘With the Kerrigans, who are in cahoots with him on the Elmet Centre development, as you know. Anyway, Gashi asked Blaydon to drive to Eastvale — he didn’t know he was already there — and pick up Samir, who was still upset at finding Stokes dead, and drive him back to Leeds. Blaydon was having too much fun eating his snails and frog’s legs, so he dispatched his driver, Frankie Wallace, to go pick up Samir.’

‘You know, you’re showing your ignorance as well as your prejudice when it comes to French food. It’s a racial stereotype. They don’t have—’

‘Frog’s legs or snails at Le Coq d’Or. I know. Marcel McGuigan told me. It was just a figure of speech.’

‘You talked to Marcel McGuigan?’

‘Had to do. He was Blaydon’s alibi.’

‘But he’s... I mean, he’s a foodie GOD. Have you any idea what he can do with sweetbreads?’

‘I don’t, actually. I’m not that much into puddings. But I know about McGuigan. Michelin stars and all that. He’s really quite a nice bloke. No pretensions, down to earth. By the way, he offered me a free dinner any time I want. With a guest of my choice.’

Joanna narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s playing dirty. If you think...’

‘I told him no, I couldn’t possibly. It might be misconstrued.’

‘You’re right, I suppose.’

Banks smiled. ‘I could always say I’ve changed my mind...’

‘Don’t hold your breath. Back to the night of the murder.’

Banks drank some more beer and went on. Françoise Hardy gave way to the late great Scott Walker singing ‘Joanna’.

Joanna MacDonald’s ears perked up on hearing her name. One or two people who knew who she was were looking towards her with silly grins on their faces. ‘Did you do that to embarrass me?’ she whispered at Banks.

‘Me? I have no control over Cyril’s playlists,’ Banks said. ‘Don’t you know the song?’

‘No.’

‘It’s Scott Walker.’

‘Just go on with your story.’

‘Right. Frankie entered through the back door,’ Banks went on. ‘He’s an ex-boxer and can look like a terrifying figure with all his scar tissue and so on, especially to a young lad, I should imagine. Anyway, Samir got scared and ran off through the front door and turned right, towards the park at the bottom of Elmet Hill. That was the last we could find out about his movements until we interviewed Chris Myers and Jason Bartlett. It turns out they’re the best of friends, and they both enjoy the occasional joint, so they’d got in the habit of heading down to the park after dark and smoking up in the bushes. There was never anyone around in the park at that time, they said, and they were pretty well hidden from the main path and Cardigan Drive. After that, it all happened so fast, Chris Myers told us. Samir came bursting from the trees and startled them. Without thinking, Jason just reacted, got out his knife and lunged. He might have thought Samir was carrying a weapon, but there’s no evidence of that, despite what he says. He was stoned, too, so his senses were befuddled. And it was dark. He saw a dark-skinned guy, and with all that was going around in his head at the time, he just lashed out. Sadly, he did it with a very sharp knife and managed to puncture Samir’s aorta.’

‘Christ,’ said Joanna. ‘What a story. I suppose they panicked then?’

‘That’s right. They couldn’t revive Samir, and after a while they figured out he was dead. They couldn’t very well leave him there, either. Much too close to home. It was Chris’s idea, apparently, to move him, so he got his car and parked it in a lay-by on Cardigan Drive right next to the bushes. They got Samir in the boot without anyone seeing and thought it would be best to dump him on the East Side Estate, where they thought the police would expect to find someone like him.’

‘A drug dealer? Did they know him? Did they buy drugs from him?’

‘No. They didn’t know what he was doing in Eastvale. The county lines operation didn’t deal in marijuana. Not enough profit in it, I suppose. The line dealt more addictive products — coke, crack, heroin. And Samir had just arrived in Eastvale that evening to take Greg Janson’s place. They didn’t know him from Adam. Chris Myers told us eventually that they bought the pot from a bloke in a pub near the college.’ Banks shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s true. Anyway, I suppose it’s lucky for us that they forgot about the roaches and possible blood stains in their panic. But then there was no reason they would expect us to search the park if Samir’s body was found on the East Side Estate. And we didn’t. Not for quite a while. We were lucky the traces were still there. They had no idea of Samir’s connection with Hollyfield, that it would eventually come out and lead us to the park. They had no idea where or what he was running from. We wouldn’t have had, either, if Frankie Wallace hadn’t told us he saw Samir running in that direction.’

‘Why did he tell you?’

‘Working for Blaydon and Gashi was getting a bit too rich for Frankie’s blood. He seemed pretty disgusted by the way things were going. He’s not a hardened criminal, really, just an old-fashioned minder. I’m not saying he wouldn’t buy something he knew fell off the back of a lorry, maybe even threaten someone who caused a problem, but I think he’s the sort of bloke with his own moral code, his own boundaries. The heavy drugs and the underage girls and the violence for its own sake just weren’t his scene. At the bottom of it all, he’s quite a moralist, is our Frankie. Must be that old Scottish Presbyterian influence.’

‘Lucky for you.’

‘Yes. It was Frankie who put me on to Jason and Chris. Or at least the idea that Samir might have been killed in the park by someone up to no good, someone who had nothing to do with the county lines. Then we found out about Jason’s racism, the drug use, then the forensic evidence in the park. I pushed Jason hard and set Gerry to keep an eye on his movements after I left. Naturally, he phoned his pal and they had a confab. That was when we decided to haul them in. The rest was pretty easy.’

‘What are you two up to?’ It was Annie, suddenly standing by the table.

‘Bring us a couple more drinks and I’ll tell you,’ said Banks.

‘Righty-ho.’ Annie wandered off to the bar, not entirely steady on her feet. Luckily, they were all taking taxis home tonight.

‘About what I said earlier,’ Banks said while Annie waited at the bar. ‘You know, about the restaurant and all.’

‘Yes.’

She clearly wasn’t going to help him. Banks felt his tongue growing too big for his mouth. Annie was paying for the drinks now. ‘Well, I mean, would you?’

‘Would I what?’

‘Like to have dinner with me at Le Coq d’Or.’

‘I’d love to,’ said Joanna.

‘You would? I mean, I don’t think I can honestly take a free meal there, but if I start saving up now, I might be able to make a reservation before Christmas.’