‘Yeah, all right, and you can call me Staffie. Everyone calls me that. So, do you know who’s responsible for beating the living shit out of Ricky and killing that girl?’

Lowry could see the hardness in the man’s eyes. He was told how the Regan crew were a force to be reckoned with, but he’d only met Mike Regan, and he was enough to shove anyone out of their comfort zone. He could guess that whatever he’d been told about the Regans had been watered down. Staffie appeared to have much the same attributes. Underneath that rubbery-looking face was a built-in temperament likened to a Rottweiler.

‘No,’ he sighed, forcefully, expelling a mouthful of air. ‘This is a fucking mess. I told Stoneham that it was a bad idea getting you lot involved.’

Straightening his shoulders, Staffie’s expression turned to ice. ‘I’ll tell ya this. If you’ve held anything back that could’ve stopped Mike’s son being hurt, then God fucking ’elp ya. Mike will hit this shit-hole like a tornado, smashing everything in its path. So you’d better make it clear right now why you told your chief it was a bad idea.’

Lowry didn’t flinch: he expected no less from Staffie, since his reputation preceded him.

‘This gang or gangs don’t play by the same rules. Firstly, no fucker knows who they are. Their general, boss, or whoever he is, has these runners. They’re streetwise little shitbags who have no morals. They think they’re hard because they’re blatantly taking out businesses from known hard-core villains. No one seems to be able to get a grip on them. We nick one, and within a day, there’s another taking their place. It’s like the film Mad Max. I ain’t seen anything like it in all my time in the force. Never have the streets been so out of control. My view, which I will share with you, is the powers that be should have taken on more detectives – a special squad – to track down the fucking head honchos who are importing or making this evil drug. Instead, they’re just locking up the runners. The streets will be run alive soon, with every kid hooked and willing to do anything for the shit . . . even kill. If I could print off every street crime in the last month, the fucking printer would run out of ink.’

Staffie was taking it all in, yet his focus was on Ricky’s attacker. ‘What I need to know is this. Do you think our involvement led to Ricky and that girl . . . ?’

Lowry nodded, and then he frowned. ‘Staffie, do you know who that girl was?’

‘Well, no, not exactly. She was a barmaid at the Daylight Inn. Our Ricky took her out on a date. Why?’