“Why? Whaddya want?”

“I’ll tell you if you let us come in.”

Danny’s lanky frame still blocked the doorway. “Gorrawarrant?”

“We don’t need one. We just want to talk.”

A figure appeared behind Danny, framed by his outstretched arm and the doorpost, similarly thin, and pale enough to make her flesh-toned bra and panties look like a suntan. Banks could see she had goose bumps on her arms. And needle marks. “Danny, who is it? Tell them to go away and come back to bed.”

“Fuck off, Nadia,” Danny said without turning around. “It’s business.”

Nadia made a face at his back, turned and shambled away.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve come here disturbing my rest for,” he said. “I’ve not done anything wrong.”

“Spare us the poor, wronged-youth act, Danny. You spent last night peddling your wares in the pubs on York Road and South Market Street, then you ended up at a party on the East Side Estate.”

Danny first looked puzzled, then affronted. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Someone else has. I wouldn’t waste my time. Listen, Danny, how about if I tell you we’re not drugs squad and this isn’t about drugs? Not really. We don’t have to search the flat, but we can if you like.”

“Look, you told me…”

“I told you what, Danny?”

“Never mind.”

“I’ve never spoken to you before in my life,” Banks said, gently easing Danny’s arm out of the way and walking into the flat. The living room was a mess, with clothes and CD cases strewn around the place, but at least it was clean and didn’t smell of smoke, or worse. There was a big poster of Bob Marley smoking a spliff on one wall, probably the closest Danny Boy had ever got to Jamaica, and a few sad-looking potted plants on the windowsill, none of them marijuana.

“Just a few questions, Danny, that’s all.”

“I’ve always cooperated with you in the past, haven’t I?”

“Like I said, I’ve never clapped eyes on you before in my life, but I’m sure your conduct has been exemplary,” Banks said. “Let’s keep it that way. Perhaps you might answer one or two little questions? Mind if we sit down?”

Danny looked suspicious, as well he might, and nodded toward two winged armchairs. He scratched his head. “You’re not going to trick me, you know,” he said. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“No,” said Annie, making herself comfortable. “You were born on the ninth of August, 1982. We know that. We know plenty about you, Danny.”

Danny was still standing, hopping from foot to foot. “Look,” he said, “it’s cold. Can I put the fire on and get dressed?”

“Course you can,” said Banks. “It is a bit nippy in here.”

Danny turned on the gas fire and headed to the bedroom to get dressed. Banks followed him. “What you doing?” Danny asked.

“Just routine,” said Banks. “We’ve sort of developed a habit of not letting suspects out of our sight.”

“Suspect? You said this wasn’t about drugs.”

“Get dressed, Danny.”

Nadia lay in bed in the half-dark with the sheets and blanket pulled right up to her chin. “What’s going on, Danny?” she asked in a whiny voice. “Come back to bed. Please.”

“Go to sleep, Nadia. This won’t take long.” Danny pulled on a pair of jeans.

“What were you wearing on Thursday night?” Banks asked.

“Thursday? Dunno. Why?”

“I’d like to see.”

“Whatever it was, it’ll likely still be in the laundry basket over there. Nadia takes care of all that shit.” He glared over at Nadia. “When she can be bothered.”

“Oh, Danny…”

The laundry basket was only half full. “Got a plastic bag, Danny?” Banks asked. “A bit bigger than the ones you use for the stuff you sell.”

“Very funny.” Danny reached into the wardrobe and found a bin liner. “This do?”

“Nicely.” Banks filled it with the clothes from the laundry basket, then followed Danny back into the living room, which was warming up a treat now.

When they had all sat down, Banks asked, “Did you hear about the boat fire just south of town?”

“I might have heard something in the pub last night. Why?”

“Two people died in that fire,” said Annie.

“That’s a tragedy, but it’s nothing to do with me.”

“You think not?” Annie took a folder from her briefcase and opened it on her knees. “We have a statement here from a young lad called Mark Siddons to the effect that you supplied him with heroin for his girlfriend, Tina Aspern. What do you have to say about that, Danny?”

Danny looked mystified. “Look, you know I do people little favors like that once in a while. Like I do for you. You know I’m not some big-time drug dealer. I don’t understand this. What’s going on? You say you’re not drugs squad. You said this wasn’t about drugs.”

“It isn’t, Danny,” Banks explained. “Not exactly. I think I know what you’ve been trying to say. You’re not sure about us, about DI Cabbot and me, so you’re being very shy about it, but you’ve got a nice little deal going with the drugs squad, haven’t you? In exchange for information about the big guys from time to time, they leave you alone. You’ve got protection. You’re immune. It’s a dangerous game, Danny. Those big guys always seem to find out where the leak is in the end, and they’re not forgiving types. But that’s your business. I’m sure you know the risks already. Thing is, you’re not immune from me and DI Cabbot here. We’ve got nothing to do with the drugs squad. We’re Major Crimes. What we’re concerned about is the fire. It’s murder we’re investigating, Danny. That’s why we want your clothes. Arson, not drugs. Unless there’s a connection?”

“That fire was nothing to do with me. I wasn’t even near the place. Nadia and me was down in Leeds till yesterday evening.”

“Picking up more smack to sell this weekend?”

Danny scratched one of his underarms. “Seeing some friends.”

“Getting the itch, are you?” Banks asked.

“You don’t think I use that shit myself, do you?”

“Look,” Annie said, “did you supply Mark Siddons with heroin for his girlfriend Tina Aspern?”

“I don’t know who it was, do I? Wait a minute.” He looked from one to the other. “There was nothing wrong with that shit. Nobody overdosed on that stuff. It was well cut.”

“So you did?”

“Where’s this going?”

Annie looked at Banks and raised her eyebrows. Banks took over. “It’s serious, Danny,” he said. “You see, Tina Aspern was one of the people who died in that boat fire.”

“I didn’t know that. I mean, I hardly even knew her. Poor kid.”

“But if you supplied the heroin, Danny… You see, if she hadn’t been under the influence, she might have survived.”

“You’re not sticking me with that. No way.” He folded his arms.

“It’s a matter of culpability, Danny,” said Banks, stretching the truth and the law quite a bit. “See, if you sold her that stuff and it resulted in her death, even indirectly, then you’re responsible. You don’t think we’d bring you in just for selling a bag here and there, do you? This is serious business, Danny. Serious jail time.”

“That’s a load of bollocks and you know it,” said Danny. “You must think I’m stupid, or something. I didn’t make her shoot the stuff. I didn’t even sell it to her. It was him who bought it from me, the boyfriend. He probably stuck the needle in her, too. How does that make me guilty of anything?”

“It’s the law.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll wait to hear what my brief has to say about that, won’t we?” He picked up a mobile phone from the coffee table. Before he could dial a number, Banks slapped it out of his hand and it bounced on the hardwood floor into the corner by the stereo.

“Hey, if you’ve broken that…” Danny started to rise from his chair but Banks leaned forward, put his hand on the boy’s chest and pushed him back. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“Now, you wait-”

“No. You wait a minute, Danny. Hear me out. What happened? Did Mark and Tina rip you off, or did you figure they had more money stashed away on the boat and you’d go over there and help yourself while they were on the nod? You weren’t to know Mark wasn’t a user.”