Blaydon looked like a retired academic, thought Banks, who had met a few in his time. The casual lemon sweater over an open-neck white shirt, unruly head of brown, gray-flecked hair, aquiline nose, keen, watchful eyes behind wire-framed spectacles. He wasn’t in the least bit imposing; in fact, he seemed perfectly relaxed, as if he might have been sitting there marking a pile of exam papers rather than renting out empty properties to drug dealers or madams of pop-up brothels.

“Were you in Eastvale on Sunday evening?” Banks asked.

“Eastvale? Yes, I was.”

“Why?”

Blaydon leaned back in his chair. It creaked. “Why? Well, as a matter of fact, I was having dinner with some business colleagues.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with anything?”

“We’re investigating an incident,” said Annie. “We’re questioning anyone who might be able to help us.”

“I see. I’m afraid I can’t help you at all. I went to the restaurant, dined and left. I saw no incident. What sort of thing are we talking about?”

Banks paused, then said, “It was a murder.”

“Murder? Good Lord. I think I would have remembered something like that.”

Roberts returned with the coffee, silver carafe on a silver tray, with matching silver cream and sugar bowls. Banks took his black and Annie took cream and one sugar. Blaydon declined. When Roberts had gone, they carried on.

“Which restaurant were you at?” Banks asked.

“Marcel’s. Le Coq d’Or. It’s on—”

“I know where Le Coq d’Or is,” said Banks. It was the most expensive restaurant in Eastvale—in the entire Dales, for that matter—and had been awarded not one, but two Michelin stars. Neither Banks nor Annie had ever eaten there, and probably never would.

“We often dine there,” Blaydon went on. “His truffle and—”

“Who were you dining with?” Annie’s question stopped Blaydon mid-sentence.

“I told you. Business colleagues.”

“Can you give me their names?”

“I don’t want you bothering my friends about such matters. I’ve told you, none of us saw or heard anything unusual. I’m assuming whatever happened was near Marcel’s?”

“Friends?” Annie said. “I thought you said business colleagues.”

Blaydon gave her a cold stare. “Business colleagues. Friends. What does it matter? I don’t want you bothering them.”

“We promise not to bother them,” Annie said.

“And we’ll find out one way or another,” Banks added.

Blaydon sighed and shot them a poisonous glance. “If you must know, it was the Kerrigan brothers. Thomas and Timothy.”

Banks whistled. “Tommy and Timmy Kerrigan, eh? Reg and Ronnie. They certainly get around. Fine company you keep.”

“The Kerrigans are respectable businessmen. We do a fair bit of business together.”

“Like the Elmet Centre?”

“That’s one project we’re involved in, yes.”

“A pretty big one, too. Did you drive to Eastvale?”

“Not personally. No license, you see. Slight difference of opinion with a Breathalyzer. I had my chauffeur, Frankie, drive me and wait for me out front. Where did this murder take place?”