Joe’s Eaterie was empty apart from one man, reading the paper over a plate of beans on toast, and he did not look up. Serrailler got tea and flapjacks. The place was a functional provider of all-day breakfast, sandwiches and cakes from six in the morning to three in the afternoon. It was warm, cheerful and impressively clean.

‘It’s a bit of a story.’

‘I’m listening.’

He listened for a long time, to the story of Vince’s marriage to a violent narcissist, the divorce which gave him custody of his four sons, and his efforts to do as many jobs as possible to bring in enough money and keep an eye on them.

‘I did long-distance lorry driving for a bit when she was there but I can’t do that any more. Now it’s the nightclub job and a bit of relief security but it doesn’t pay. I’m always looking for something daytime.’

Vince put a small black phone on the table. The story of Brookie and the mobile came eventually and it was clear that the Chief had been right, the county lines dealers had infiltrated all corners of the force’s area, and Starly was high on their list for several obvious reasons. That a boy as young as eleven was being groomed, with a new school bag and then a mobile, and was now being sent streams of messages, was shocking but true to their form – whoever they were.

‘How often had this Fats guy given your son a lift home from school?’

‘Two or three. He didn’t seem to think it was anything to bother about, but he still made sure not to say much to his brothers.’

‘They’re not involved?’

‘No. He’d have said. It’s just Brooklyn. And it makes me bloody mad.’

They had more tea while Serrailler heard the story of the greyhound track and the man who might be the same Fats.

‘I’m going down there on Wednesday’

‘What’s your plan – if you’ve got one?’

‘Not got it completely worked out yet.’

Simon waited. A lot of talks with stray blokes like Vince Roper were spent waiting patiently, not pushing, not probing, waiting until they got it together and trusted him enough.

‘I read in the paper about these county lines . . . what the Chief Constable said, the usual about anyone with information . . . only I didn’t have . . . maybe I still don’t and won’t, but if I do . . . I could be useful, couldn’t I?’

‘Possibly.’

‘I wouldn’t do anything risky. I’ve got four lads, like I said, only it’s funny what you hear when you hang about and I could do that.’

‘Tell me.’