“You’re arguing against your own logic, Banks. What would it matter if he told the police if we were all as corrupt as you make out? Why go so far as to kill the kid if Bradford thought we could control the outcome anyway?”

Banks looked at Michelle before continuing. “That puzzled me for a while, too,” he said. “I can only conclude that he knew which police officer not to tell.”

“How do you mean?”

“Graham had definitely been to the Mandeville house. What if he saw someone there? Someone who shouldn’t have been there, like a certain detective superintendent?”

“That’s absurd. John wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what? Mandeville’s parties catered to all tastes. According to his wife, John Harris was homosexual. We don’t know if Mandeville or Fiorino found out and blackmailed him or if they set him up. Maybe that’s how he took his payoffs from Fiorini and Mandeville, in young boys. Or drugs. It doesn’t matter. Point is, I think Graham saw him there or knew he was connected in some way and made this clear to Bradford, too, that he’d go elsewhere with his story.”

Shaw turned pale. “John? Homosexual? I don’t believe that.”

“One of my old school friends has turned out to be gay,” said Banks. “And I didn’t know that, either. John Harris had two damn good reasons for keeping it a secret. It was illegal until 1967, and he was a copper. Even today you know how tough it is for coppers to come out. We’re all such bloody macho tough guys that gays terrify the crap out of us.”

“Bollocks. This is all pure speculation.”

“Not about John Harris,” Michelle said. “It’s what his ex-wife told me.”

“She’s a lying bitch, then. With all due respect.”

“Why would she lie?”

“She hated John.”

“Sounds like she had good reason to,” Banks said. “But back to Graham. He threatened to tell. I don’t know why. It could have been greed, but it could also have been because Mandeville wanted him to do more than pose for photos. I’d like to think that was where Graham drew the line, but we’ll probably never know. It also explains why he was preoccupied when we were on holiday in Blackpool just before he disappeared. He must have been worrying about what to do. Anyway, Graham knew he’d better go farther afield than the local nick. And he had the photo as evidence, a photo that could incriminate Rupert Mandeville. He compromised the whole operation. Mandeville’s and Fiorino’s. That was why he had to die.”

“So what happened?”

“The order went down to Donald Bradford to get rid of him. Bradford had to be at the shop by eight o’clock, as usual, that morning. That gave him an hour and a half to abduct Graham, kill him and dispose of the body. It takes a while to dig a hole that deep, so my guess is that he planned it in advance, picked the spot and dug the hole. Either that or he had help and another of Fiorino’s henchmen buried the body. Either way, with Harris on the payroll, Bradford could at least be certain that no one was looking too closely at his lack of an alibi.”