‘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.’
Chapter 16
There were no cars parked outside Connor Clive Blaydon’s villa when Banks and Gerry turned up there after the DNA tests had come up positive and Jason Bartlett had been charged with the murder of Samir Boulad. Annie was still working with the CPS on preparing the case for prosecution, along with that of Chris Myers as accessory. Gerry was quite happy to get out of the squad room for a road trip. Banks wondered how Blaydon managed without Frankie Wallace to drive him around. Maybe he’d hired a new chauffeur.