“We don’t. Dr. Galway wouldn’t speculate on that. There’s just no evidence that anyone did. I mean, if you want to kill a drug addict, an overdose is a pretty foolproof method.” Annie paused. “There were a couple of interesting points that came up, though.”

“Yes?”

“Dr. Galway also discovered during the post-mortem that Stokes was a diabetic. He didn’t take very good care of himself, as we know, and there’s a good chance he might have lost a foot or a leg before long if he’d carried on the way he was doing.”

“You might also be interested to know,” said Gerry, “that I checked with the local GPs and dispensing chemists, and Stokes hasn’t received any prescriptions for methadone—or anything other than insulin—for at least six months.”

“So he’s been getting the real thing from someone?”

“Looks that way, guv.”

“And there’s one more thing,” Annie said. “According to Dr. Galway, Stokes had cancer. Pancreatic. One of the worst. It had already spread to the liver and lungs.”

“How long—”

“Not very long at all. She wouldn’t say exactly, but I got the impression it was weeks rather than months.”

“So there’s even a chance he killed himself?” said Banks.

Annie nodded. “I’d say so. If you have the means at hand, and you know how bad what’s coming is likely to be . . . Anyway, I think we can pretty much rule out foul play in Stokes’s case.”

“Did the drugs squad have anything to say about Blaydon?” Banks asked.

“Pretty much the same as DI MacDonald told you, guv,” said Gerry. “They clearly share information with Criminal Intelligence. They suspect that Blaydon is acting as a bagman for the Albanians, especially this bloke Leka Gashi, who’s the front man for the northern drugs operations, helping them take over the local county lines and so on. Apparently, Blaydon and Gashi first met up in Sarandë about ten years ago.”