“Of course. Mid-sixties, that’d be. Peterborough. It was called the Mid-Anglia Constabulary back then. Why?”

“Do you remember a case involving Rupert Mandeville?”

“Do I? How could I forget. That’s the reason I left Cambridgeshire. If it comes right down to it, it’s the reason I left the force not long after, too.”

“Could you tell us what happened?”

The kettle boiled and Talbot filled the pot with boiling water, then carried it on a tray along with three cups and saucers to the island. “Nothing happened,” he said. “That was the problem. I was told to lay off.”

“By whom?”

“The super.”

“Detective Superintendent Harris?”

“Jet Harris. That’s the one. Oh, it was all aboveboard. Not enough evidence, my word against theirs, anonymous informant, that sort of thing. You couldn’t fault his arguments.”

“Then what?”

Talbot paused. “It just didn’t feel right, that’s all. I can’t put it any other way than that. There’d been rumors for some time about things going on at the Mandeville house. Procurement, underage boys, that sort of thing. It was the start of what they called the permissive society, after all. Ever heard of Carlo Fiorino?”

“We have,” said Michelle.

Talbot poured the tea. “Rumor has it he was the supplier. Anyway, the problem was, Rupert Mandeville was too well-connected, and some of the people who attended his parties were in the government, or in other high-level positions. Real Profumo stuff. Of course, I was the naive young copper fresh from probation, proud to be in CID, thinking he could take on the world. Not a care had I for rank or sway. We were all equal in the eyes of God as far as I was concerned, though I wasn’t a religious man. Well, I soon learned the error of my ways. Had my eyes opened for me. When the super found out I’d been out there and caused a fuss, he had me in his office and told me in no uncertain terms that Mandeville was off-limits.”

“Did he say why?” Michelle asked.

“He didn’t need to. It’s not difficult to add up.”

“An operation like that, and one like Fiorino’s, would need police protection,” Banks said. “And Harris was it. Or part of it.”

“Exactly,” said Talbot. “Oh, he was clever, though. He never admitted it in so many words, and he got me transferred out of the county before my feet even touched the ground. Cumbria. I ask you! Well, I ran into one or two nice little gentleman’s agreements between local villains and constabulary up there, too, so I called it a day. I mean, I’m no saint, but it just seemed to me that no matter where I went I found corruption. I couldn’t fight it. Not from my position. So I resigned from the force. Best move I ever made.”

“And you told no one of your suspicions about Harris?” Michelle asked.

“What was the point? Who’d believe me? Jet Harris was practically a god around the place even then. Besides, there were implied threats of what might happen to me if I didn’t do as he said, and some of them were quite physical. I’m not a coward, but I’m no fool, either. I cut my losses.”