Banks shrugged. “The economy. Austerity. Whatever. It seems people aren’t in a mood for new shopping centers, and his home-building plans didn’t quite match up with the affordable social housing ideas the government has in mind, so there go the grants. It’s on hold, and the investors are getting antsy. Including your Leka Gashi.”

“So Gashi is involved?”

“About as deep as you can get. He’s known Blaydon for years, from the Corfu days, and he may even have helped him get rid of his partner Norman Peel, all those years ago. Though we’ll never prove that. But Gashi and his heavies took over the county line from a dealer called Lenny G, who was a pussycat by comparison. He turned up gutted in the Leeds-Liverpool Canal a few weeks ago.”

“Charming. What’s Blaydon’s part in all this?”

“I was just coming to that. He’s not directly involved, as far as we know, but he’s business partners with Gashi and does him little favors now and then. Like you said, Blaydon likes to think he’s playing with the big boys. I think Gashi probably treats him like a gofer, but it gives him the criminal’s credibility he seems to crave. That and the drugs and girls it gives him access to. He’s quite famous for his parties. I walked in on one a few days ago.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“It was a sort of aftermath, really, but quite interesting. The morning after. A few people sleeping, one or two lounging about in the pool, a couple of naked girls, three people having sex in one of the bedrooms.”

“You sound envious.”

“Not at all. Especially as the girls were young enough to be his granddaughters. Besides, once you’ve talked to Zelda, you can never be sure that someone like that doesn’t come from a similar background of trafficking and slavery and sexual abuse.”

“But Blaydon didn’t kill the Syrian boy?”

“Samir. No. That was a different thing altogether. A different set of unfortunate circumstances. Coincidences, if you like. Of course, the culprits denied it at first, but we got it out of them. We found both their fingerprints matched some on the wheelie bin Samir was dumped in. First Chris Myers, the one who didn’t actually stab Samir, cracked and told us his mate Jason Bartlett did it. Then when we confronted Bartlett with the DNA evidence and his friend’s statement, he broke down and confessed. All above board. Solicitors present, and all. And both are eighteen, so they’ll be facing adult court and adult prison time.”

“That’s sad.”

“It is. It’s a great waste. But it’s not half as fucking sad as what happened to Samir. Pardon my French.”

Joanna smiled and patted his arm. “You’re forgiven.”