What on earth could he say to Sam? Don’t get too drunk? Stay out of danger? Wrap yourself in cotton wool? He put his phone down and stabbed a chip. He had it halfway to his mouth when the phone pinged.

The Greyhound pub in Tong? I’m very close, if you fancy it.

He fancied it, he told himself, grabbing the ketchup and emptying half its contents onto his chips.

27

Back at Elland Road, he didn’t need to traipse all the way down to Forensics. Gwyn Merchant was in the operations room, grinning like a dog with two dicks.

‘Joe! You heard?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘Your man Shaw? Mr Class B, eh? Or is he? Ta-dah!’

A bellyful of well-ketchupped cow grease did little to make Merchant’s childishness any more bearable. Fortunately, Bridgette’s report was already on the system.

As Joe logged on and read it, Merchant reclined in a nearby chair, feet up on the desk, hands behind his head, like a lobster dripping in serotonin.

The report was brief. Under Shaw’s car, within reach of the driver, two small magnetic boxes had been found, the kind that some drivers still use to keep a spare key in. One box had contained a dozen wraps of cocaine and fentanyl, the other, ecstasy and ketamine.

‘They took their bloody time finding that!’ Joe said, clicking the file closed.

‘Heat from the fire had kind of moulded ’em to the chassis.’

‘I know, I just read it. Shit!’

‘Yep. Shit. Doesn’t get us anywhere, but shit.’

‘Cheers for the input. You know what I think? If someone was warning Shaw off, if I was part of a rival drugs operation, for example, what would be the best cover? How about anti-drugs vigilantes? Ranksy and Daz? They’ve been seen warning drug pushers on the street. We still haven’t spoken to them. Do it now?’

Merchant swung his legs off the desk.

‘Ticked that box, as it happens. I chased ’em up this morning. They’re off the radar.’

‘What? They threatened the mother of a murder victim. Said they’d sort him out. They’re right on my radar.’

‘Yeah, no, no, I mean, for Beverage. I was over there early on today. Did a bit of digging. I’ve got ’em outside Spider’s nightclub in Batley ’til two in the morning. They work the door, both of ’em. Plenty of witnesses, bar staff, manager. They started at six the previous evening. Poor bastards have to clean the bogs before the place opens! The victim was still alive at a quarter to eight.’

‘Rita’s got that already?’

‘Yeah. Beverage phoned a mate, said he was off to meet a copper. They’ve already got a statement. She’s a fast worker, Rita.’

‘He was meeting a copper? What details do we have on that?’

‘His mate said the copper were called Peters or Peterson or something.’