Johnny Lister ran out of road and got killed. In Latchford, where road is all 
there is. Five miles of road--a hot, straight strip with a dead tree at the
 westerly end of it. The wreckage of Lister's cycle was found a hundred
 yards from his body...
Into the world of jazz and death-happy delinquents came Superintendent 
Gently of the Yard. But the youthful companions of the dead boy seemed 
quite unmoved by his questions. Because in Latchford it's only natural 
to cut loos a little, burn the road up. That's how you stay in touch. Still,
 Gently wondered about the second set of tire marks. They seemed to suggest
 that another cyclist had edged Lister off the road
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