‘And Danny Cullen’s your man? Hand-picked?’

‘You’d be surprised. It takes courage to ban drugs from a pub on a housing estate in Batley. And to enforce it.’

‘He enforces it?’

‘I’ve seen it myself. He turfs them out.’

Joe took the two lists from his pocket, confirming that Cullen and his two assistants were on both.

‘Mr Rank and Mr Scholes. Ranksy and Daz, I assume?’

Turner nodded, with just the hint of a smile.

‘Our trusty foot soldiers.’

‘Tell me,’ Joe said, ‘what do you know about Craig Shaw?’

Turner’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘Very little. Other than he was a known drug dealer.’

Joe put the lists back in his pocket.

‘Known to you?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘We’re looking into the Patriot League’s links to Shaw. It’d be helpful if you could start to think of possible points of connection. Does anything spring to mind?’

‘Nothing that I can think of.’

‘Nothing at all? You can think of no connection between Craig Shaw and any members of the Patriot League?’

‘No. I cannot.’

Joe took a moment. Turner must have known something about Cullen’s daughter and her relationship with Shaw. Not much to be gained from accusing him of lying, though, not just now.

‘OK. I’ll be in touch. Please be available this time.’

Turner accompanied him to his car.

‘A-ha!’ Joe said as he opened the door, his best Columbo impression. ‘Do you own a bike? Mind if I take a quick look?’

Turner paused.

‘A bicycle? I… I do have one, as it happens.’

Without another word he strode out around the side of the house, pristine gravel crunching underfoot. The garage was at the back, a small, freestanding stone building out of sight from the main road.

‘Here,’ he said, pulling the doors open to reveal a black bike.

‘Impressive,’ Joe said, running a hand gently along the crossbar. ‘Twelve-speed?’

‘Fifteen. It’s a hybrid. Like a racer but a bit more robust. Perfect for the roads around here.’

‘Do you use it a lot?’ he asked as he took a couple of pictures on his phone, including a close-up of the tyre.

‘Most days. I try to keep fit. Either cycling or long walks.’

Joe nodded appreciatively. Sam kept telling him to join a gym. But he worked on the assumption that if he couldn’t be bothered to drag himself there to register, it was unlikely he’d ever be inspired to use the facilities.

‘Last Thursday, for example? Thursday evening?’

‘Thursday? Yes, I probably had a training session. Ninety minutes, thereabouts. Up and down the valley. I take the cycling quite seriously.’

‘What time?’

‘Mid-evening. Eight-ish, I guess.’

‘Can anyone confirm that?’

Turner held up his phone.