“No charges were brought. You’ve no right to bring that up. Chris has no criminal record. All mention of what happened should be expunged from your records.”

Banks thanked his lucky stars for the old incident sheets and glanced at Annie. “Let’s move on, then,” he said. “You are in charge of the Neighborhood Watch, so it can hardly be unusual to assume that you have some idea of what’s going on in the neighborhood, can it? I’m simply asking for the benefit of your expertise. Doesn’t that seem reasonable?”

“On the surface of it, naturally it does,” Myers blustered. “But in reality, I’m sure you know as well I do that our brief stops at Cardigan Drive. We don’t police Hollyfield.”

“Nobody does,” said Banks.

“Well, you know what they say. Physician, heal thyself.”

Banks sighed. “If only it were that easy. We don’t have the resources. That’s why we rely on people like you to help us. People who have some sense of pride in their neighborhoods, people who value the safety and security of their families and neighbors. We know we’re falling way short.”

Myers seemed to puff himself up. “Well . . . er . . . as you put it like that, yes, we are certainly aware of the constrictions the police work under, and we’re more than happy to help. After all, it means we’re helping ourselves, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” said Banks. “Glad you see it that way.”

“But it doesn’t alter the fact that I’m still afraid I don’t know anything. We never did patrol Hollyfield, and these days there seems even less point, as there’s hardly anyone left living there.”

“But did you or any of your fellow watchers patrol the park that Sunday night? Did you see Samir suddenly appear there, and in the confusion of the moment, stab him?”

“That’s absurd!” said Myers. “Now you’re accusing me of murder.” He got up. “I want my solicitor. Immediately.”

“Calm down, Mr. Myers,” said Banks. “Keep your hair on. I’m merely asking you a question: did you or any of your colleagues kill Samir Boulad?”

Myers eased himself back into his chair. “Then the answer’s obvious. No. But I suppose that’s what you’d expect me to say, whether I’m guilty or innocent. And I can assure you that I’m innocent.”

Banks shrugged. “I’ve known plenty of murderers who like to confess.”

“I am not a murderer. And for your information, there was no one patrolling the park that night.”

“Are you certain about that?”

“Of course I am.”

At that moment a tall, athletic boy with golden curls flopping over his pasty face came through the back gate; he stopped dead when he saw his father sitting with two strangers. Myers looked as if this new presence was the last thing he wanted.