“He was found in one of the houses on Hollyfield Lane, right? On the old estate marked for demolition and redevelopment.”

“Yes. Number twenty-six. Rehousing everyone is proving a slow process, especially if it’s to be affordable. Stokes was on his pension, for example. Then there’s planning, environmental assessments and the rest of the red tape. It seems Stokes was a legitimate tenant, by the way, and not a squatter.”

“If Stokes was on a pension, where did he get the money to feed his heroin habit? You said he hadn’t resorted to crime.”

“Dunno,” said Annie, “but it might be worth following up.”

“You think so?”

“No need to be sarky. There is one other interesting point.”

“Yes?”

“The owner of the property.”

“Blaydon?”

“No. The Kerrigan brothers. On paper, at any rate.”

“Tommy and  Timmy? Are they, indeed? So they’ve branched out from nightclubs and amusement arcades into rental properties.”

Annie smiled. “I thought you’d find that interesting. They rented it out at a fairly exorbitant rate, too. However, with the new project going ahead, they’ll stand to make quite a bundle, especially if they’re in cahoots with Blaydon. And Hollyfield abuts Elmet Hill, which is already quite posh and ‘desirable.’ There’s only that little strip of parkland and Cardigan Drive separating them. As you know, Elmet Hill isn’t so far from The Heights, either. Anyway, according to Gerry, there’s been a bit of friction between some of the residents up the hill and the people living on Hollyfield. Especially arguments over the park that separates the two. The hill residents sort of see it as their own property. They’ve even got a Neighborhood Watch, night patrols and everything. They argued that crime was on the increase. I checked, and it’s true. There’s been a couple of break-ins recently, and a sexual assault.”

“Hardly surprising,” said Banks, “the way we’ve had to cut back on coppers on the beat and patrol cars. I remember that sexual assault. Girl called Lisa Bartlett, right?”

“That’s right. Month ago. Gerry investigated it. Sixteen years old. She was on her way home from a dance at the comprehensive. She walked most of the way along Cardigan Drive with a couple of friends, but they peeled off just before The Oak, at the corner there, and she was left to walk the last few yards alone.”

“Remind me. Where exactly was she attacked?”

“She was taking a shortcut through the pub car park and a little stretch of waste ground beyond, leading to Elmet Court, when someone jumped her from behind.”

“I remember now. She didn’t see her attacker, did she?”

“No. Couldn’t give Gerry any sort of description. The poor kid was terrified.”

“She wasn’t raped, though, if I remember right.”