Читать книгу Tennison - Lynda La plante - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAs soon as Bradfield heard they had arrested Eddie Phillips, he went down to the cells with DS Gibbs to get him out for an interview. True to his word he took down a bottle of whisky for each of the arresting officers from the crate stashed in his office.
Eddie was asleep on the thin mattress when Bradfield threw open the cell door and kicked his feet to wake him, but he just lay there moaning like a belligerent child who didn’t want to get out of bed. Gibbs grabbed Eddie by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off the mattress. He was like a rag doll and it didn’t take long to realize Eddie was still stoned and could hardly string two words together, never mind stand upright. Bradfield got straight to the point and asked him who Julie Ann had phoned from the doctor’s office while he kept lookout. Eddie mumbled something about the police harassing his grandmother and picking on him. Bradfield told him he hadn’t even started yet and instructed one of the uniform officers who’d arrested Eddie to ply him with coffee for the next two hours in order to wake him up so that he could be interviewed.
*
Jane ushered a pale-faced George Collins upstairs to Bradfield’s office. He was wearing a dark navy pinstriped suit, and he was so thin that the shoulders appeared to be padded. Underneath the suit jacket was a pristine white shirt, with a tie that had a small crossed golf-club monogram on it.
He was cordial as he shook hands with Bradfield and apologized for not being able to come to the station earlier due to a meeting with the vicar about his daughter’s funeral. Bradfield explained it might be some time before the body was released, but he would speak with the coroner whose decision it would be. He then invited Mr Collins to sit opposite him and offered refreshments. He declined, and still standing reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a cutting from a newspaper which he unfolded and placed on the table for Bradfield to see.
‘This morning’s paper describes my daughter as a drug addict and prostitute. Why did you tell them that, Mr Bradfield?’ he asked calmly, but with a look of hurt in his eyes.
Bradfield scanned the article. ‘I can assure you, Mr Collins, that I said nothing of the sort to the newspapers.’ Collins took a deep breath. ‘My wife is beside herself.
She’s inconsolable and feels ashamed.’
‘I would very much doubt that it was one of my officers who spoke to the press. It’s possible the leak may have come from one of the mortuary staff and I will investigate the matter, Mr Collins.’ He refolded the article and held it up. Collins shook his head, so Bradfield threw the cutting in the bin and asked him to sit down, which he did.
‘Have you charged the man you arrested with the murder of my daughter?’ Collins asked nervously.
‘Not as yet, and it’s looking more likely that he may not be the person responsible.’
‘But he must know something if you arrested him, so why aren’t you—’
‘We are doing everything possible to find Julie Ann’s killer, Mr Collins. I can assure you we are following up on some leads that we hope will be very productive . . . However, there are also a few questions of a delicate nature I need to ask you.’
‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
‘Firstly, and regrettably, I have to inform you that Julie Ann was twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant at the time of her death.’
Bradfield paused to let a shocked-looking Mr Collins digest the information. Jane was struck once again by how gentle Bradfield’s manner was, but she felt deeply sorry for Mr Collins, who was struggling to speak.
‘How can you be sure . . .? Could it be some kind of mistake?’
‘I won’t go into specifics, but suffice to say the pathologist has confirmed it, Mr Collins, and I am sorry but I have to ask if you and your wife were already privy to this information?’
‘Dear God no. If Julie had told us we would have done everything possible to make her come home.’
‘Did she make contact with you when she was upset or in any kind of trouble?’
‘The first few times she ran away – once or twice. My wife and I begged her to come home, but she’d accuse us of trying to control her life. We just wanted to get her away from the drug dealers and addicts.’
‘That’s totally understandable, and you and Mrs Collins must have been under immense stress. Do you know who any of her dealers or drug-addict friends may have been?’
‘No, but believe you me if I did I’d swing for them.’
It suddenly occurred to Jane that behind Bradfield’s soft tone and calm manner there was an underlying purpose to his line of questioning, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
‘I understand that you cared for your daughter deeply, but may I ask why you stopped reporting her missing?’
‘I have already explained this – she kept running away from home and your lot got fed up with us and Julie, so there was no point in reporting it any more. One officer virtually accused us of being terrible parents who had spoilt our daughter. We loved her and thought she loved us, but it seems she came to love drugs more.’ He was pressing his bony hands together and twisting them round in agitation.
‘Did you look for her yourself?’
Jane thought the question a bit harsh and could see that Mr Collins was angered by the insinuation behind it, but was also close to tears.
‘Of course we did, day and bloody night all over London, in some of the most unsavoury places imaginable, but to no avail. Some people recognized her photograph so we knew she was alive, but as time went by we eventually realized we’d have to wait for her to make contact. The weeks and months passed but she never did . . . and now she never will.’ His voice was filled with emotion as he finished his sentence. He stared forlornly at the floor.
Jane listened intently as Bradfield changed tack. ‘It must be of some solace to know that Julie Ann had voluntarily checked herself into a drug dependency unit.’
Mr Collins looked up with sadness, tears welling in his eyes. ‘Your detectives told me yesterday, but didn’t say when.’
‘About ten weeks ago. She may have been trying to kick the habit for herself and the baby she was carrying. However, two weeks ago she suddenly stopped attending after she made a phone call from the drug unit. Did you receive a call from your daughter two weeks ago?’
Mr Collins ran his bony hand through his thinning hair. He was shaking.
‘No, no, I did not. I’ve already said that we hadn’t heard from her for almost eighteen months.’
Bradfield paused, took a deep breath and flicked to a page in his notebook. ‘She was last seen getting into a red car near the hospital, possibly a Jaguar XJ6 or 12. Do you know anyone who may own a red Jag?’ he asked and closed the notebook.
Mr Collins shook his head.
‘Did Julie Ann ever call you for money?’
Mr Collins gave a slight snort of derision and leaned forward.
‘At first, yes, a couple of times, but you clearly have no idea what hell it is to live with a heroin addict, do you, Mr Bradfield? Of course they ask for money . . . and if you don’t give it to them they will steal it from you, and pawn your prized possessions to feed their habit.’
Jane watched, mouth open, as a very tense Mr Collins sat upright in his chair waiting for an irritated-looking Bradfield to say something.
‘Do you recall if your daughter associated with anyone called Paddy?’
Mr Collins was becoming frustrated. ‘She never mentioned or used the name in my presence . . . and before you ask I only know it as a colloquial term for an Irishman.’
‘Do you know if your daughter had any black male friends?’
‘This is getting ridiculous, DCI Bradfield. She was at an all-girls’ school, and I can assure you there are no blacks living in any streets near us.’
‘But as a heroin addict she probably did mix with black drug dealers and addicts, you’d agree?’
‘Dear God, I keep telling you, I hadn’t seen my daughter in over a year so I have no idea who she’d been mixing with recently.’
Jane thought, from the way the interview was going, that Bradfield was going to be heartless and reveal the fact that Julie Ann had had sex with a black man, and that there was a possibility of rape.
‘I’m just trying to do my job, Mr Collins, and I am sorry if what I ask you is upsetting. To try and find who murdered your daughter I need to know as much as possible about her, even details that may seem unpleasant.’
Collins stood up. ‘What do you want from me? Everything you tell me rips me further apart. I refuse to be subjected to any further questioning. I came here to help, not to be interrogated like this. I would like to go home now, please. Surely you have the decency to understand that all my wife and I want to do now is bury our daughter? Everyone here refers to her as Julie Ann but we always called her just Julie . . . Sometimes it feels as if you are describing another girl, but it isn’t . . . She was my beloved child and now all we want is to be left alone to grieve for what could have been . . .’
‘Excuse me a moment, Mr Collins,’ Bradfield said, then got up and walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. He gave a short whistle to attract DS Gibbs’s attention, who came out of the incident room and joined him in the corridor.
‘Spence, bring Eddie Phillips into my office as Tennison takes Collins out.’
Bradfield returned to his office. ‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Collins. I will inform you of any developments in our investigation. WPC Tennison will show you out.’ He gestured for Mr Collins to leave as Jane followed.
As Mr Collins opened the door Eddie entered, and they had to squeeze past each other through the narrow space. Bradfield watched closely and was sure he saw an expression of surprise on Mr Collins’ face, as if he’d seen Eddie before. As the door closed Bradfield pointed to the seat Collins had used and told Eddie to sit down.
‘Fuckin’ hell, this is like musical chairs from one room to another. You got me coming in and out of here – it’s not right when I ain’t done nothin’.’
‘Shut up and stop moaning,’ Gibbs said and dragged him across the room by the collar before banging him down onto the chair.
Bradfield stood over him. ‘Right, you piece of scum, I want some answers, and by that I mean the truth . . . no lies. Do I make myself clear?’
Eddie pointed at DS Gibbs. ‘He’s just given me a hard time in an interview and I don’t know nothing more than I already told ya. I wanna speak to a solicitor. I know my—’
Eddie’s head flew forward from the unexpected slap Bradfield gave him to the back of his head.
‘Don’t start quoting Judge’s Rules and arrest rights to me or next time it’ll be more than a gentle tap I give you. Do you understand me?’
Eddie was rubbing his whiplashed neck. ‘Yes, all right.’
‘That man in the suit who just left, you know him?’
‘No.’
‘He acted as if he’d seen you before.’
‘I’ve never seen him in me fuckin’ life.’
Gibbs, who was taking notes, leant over to Bradfield and whispered that the detectives who visited Mr Collins yesterday for a statement had shown him a picture of Eddie.
‘Why the fuck didn’t they tell me in the meeting so I didn’t waste my time!’ Bradfield snarled.
Eddie was still rubbing his neck. ‘This is all makin’ me grandmother sick, you lot showing up in yer patrol cars is frightnin’ the life out of her – she’s seventy-eight years old and got angina . . . it’s doin’ her head in.’
‘That the same granny that told my detectives to fuck off, is it? Taking in a junkie like you must be what’s doing her head in. Did she also take in Julie Ann, did she stay with you at your grandma’s?’
‘No. Me gran don’t like drugs and I respect that so I never does them in her flat. I also don’t take other addicts in cos I know they’ll try and nick stuff.’
Gibbs laughed. ‘Yeah, like you never have, Eddie.’ Gibbs explained to Bradfield that Eddie had told him Julie Ann either used squats or slept rough, and that the squat on the Pembridge was where he’d ‘shoot up’ heroin and had first met Julie Ann. He had only known her for a few months and never seen her around Hackney before that. Bradfield asked Eddie if he knew where she’d been staying before he met her and he said that he didn’t know, but from what she did say he thought she had run away from home.
‘Did she speak about her parents?’
‘Her mum sometimes. She said she missed her but didn’t want to go home.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know and I didn’t ask.’
‘Did she ever talk about her dad?’ Bradfield asked and
Eddie shook his head.
‘Who did she call from the doctor’s office on the last day you saw her?’
‘I don’t know.’
Bradfield nodded to Gibbs who slapped the back of Eddie’s head. ‘That’s a lie – you were keeping lookout while she was in the office and got caught,’ Gibbs said.
Eddie squealed. ‘OK, OK, lay off with the slaps as I can’t think straight.’
He admitted that he was keeping watch, walking up and down and checking round the corner that no one was coming, so he didn’t hear who she called or what was said, and then O’Duncie the tea lady had caught them.
Bradfield asked if Julie Ann had ever mentioned anyone called Paddy who she wanted money from.
Eddie said the name wasn’t familiar and Bradfield asked if it could be a drug dealer or pimp she was using.
Eddie paused and looked nervously at Bradfield who could sense he was hiding something.
‘Cough it up, Eddie.’
Eddie picked at his spots, refusing to look up. ‘I can’t.’
‘Then I’ll charge you for withholding evidence in a murder investigation, you’ll be remanded in custody and do cold turkey in prison. I’ll also make sure your cell mates think you’re a grass and use you as a punchbag.’
Eddie was shaking like a leaf and couldn’t look them in the eye.
‘Not to mention some inmates like to shag young boys,’ Gibbs added.
Eddie looked up at Bradfield. ‘There was a dealer she spoke about called Big Daddy, but I don’t know if it was him she called. Sometimes she paid him cash and other times she let him have sex for drugs.’
‘What’s he look like and where can I find him?’
‘Honestly I don’t know . . . I’ve never met or seen him. She said he had a mate called Dwayne and Big Daddy made her do sex with them both at the same time. I’m being honest – that’s all Julie Ann told me.’
‘Did Big Daddy or Dwayne drive a red Jag like the one you saw her get into?’
Gibbs interjected and said that Eddie had been looking through the Jag brochures just before he brought him into the office. Bradfield asked if the car was like the XJ6 or 12.
‘Shit, I only saw it for a few seconds. I dunno now for sure if it was a Jag, but it was definitely red and as I’ve said over and over I didn’t see the driver and I’ve never seen Big Daddy or Dwayne. It’s not like me and Julie Ann was together all the fuckin’ time.’
Bradfield rocked back in his chair, lit two cigarettes and handed one to Eddie who thanked him and took a long slow drag.
Bradfield stood up and indicated for Gibbs to join him in the far corner of the room. Eddie puffed on the cigarette, hunching his shoulders and staring at their backs, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.
‘What you reckon, Spence? Is Big Daddy real or a name he’s made up to appease us?’
‘Probably real, but I think he knows more about him, and understandably he’s scared shitless . . . especially if Big D murdered our victim. We could slap him round the room all day but for fear of his life I doubt he’ll give us more.’
‘Well, let’s call his bluff, make him think we know more and see what reaction we get.’
They returned to their seats and Bradfield stubbed out his cigarette and lit another for Eddie before continuing.
‘Come on, Eddie, what kind of boyfriend are you that just watches his girl get into a car and doesn’t even look to see who she’s with? What kind of prick are you that knows she’s missing for two weeks and does nothing about it?’
‘Listen, I was just her friend, right, I never shagged her.’
‘So you’re a little poofter who likes it up the arse then,’ Gibbs interjected.
‘No I’m not, but she was pickin’ up blokes to pay for drugs.’
‘Smack for you as well, obviously,’ Bradfield said. He deliberately paused and stared at Eddie.
‘Yeah, she gave me some – so what?’
‘So you’re her pimp and living off immoral earnings.’
‘Jesus Christ, I didn’t force her to do anything . . . it was me that took her to the clinic to get her off the hard stuff.’ Bradfield leaned across the table and dragged Phillips’ arm towards him, rolling up his denim-jacket cuff.
‘That looks like a fresh track to me . . . you back using, are you?’
‘Only cos you bastards are houndin’ and harassin’ me and it ain’t right at all.’
‘Let me tell you what is right, Eddie. We know Julie Ann was shagging a darkie and three months up the duff. You were with her when she made that phone call – she was overheard asking for money. How long after that call did you see her get into the red Jaguar?’
‘I dunno – an hour or so, maybe more.’
‘She was pregnant with Big Daddy’s baby, wasn’t she?’ Eddie didn’t look up, his hands and body shaking as he inhaled the smoke from the cigarette.
‘This Big Daddy, describe him to me. Is he black, white, big, small—’
‘Black and big.’
‘Tell me more about him or I’ll rip your grandma’s flat apart on a drugs search and leave her to clean up the mess.’
‘You bastards leave her alone . . . I only seen him a few times . . . he’s huge and a flashy dresser, two-tone shoes an’ a big felt hat, and he’s always wearing shades. You can slap me all you want but I don’t know nuffink else.’
Bradfield opened the envelope containing the crime scene and post-mortem photographs. He got up and stood beside Eddie placing the most graphic ones from the postmortem on the table.
‘Look at her, Eddie, LOOK AT WHAT WAS DONE TO HER!’ Bradfield shouted as he pushed Eddie’s head forward so his nose was virtually touching the gruesome picture. Eddie was horrified and gasping for breath as he began to heave and gag.
*
Jane was writing up some further details on the sheets of paper on the wall. Kath took a sip from her mug of coffee and checked her watch.
‘They’ve been in there with Eddie Phillips for ages. Wonder if they got anything out of him about the phone call that fat woman O’Duncie overheard Julie Ann making?’
As if on cue Bradfield walked in and tossed the crime scene and post-mortem photographs onto Jane’s desk.
‘Stick these up on the wall and get someone to empty the waste bin full of Eddie Phillips’ puke in my office. There’s a bit on the floor that needs cleaning as well.’
Kath frowned. ‘Eh, by someone do you mean us, sir? No cleaner will be around at this time. We had a drunk in the cells the other night that shat on the mattress and—’
‘I don’t care, just get me a coffee first and then get it cleaned up.’
Kath huffed as she left to get him a coffee.
‘How did it go with Eddie Phillips, sir?’ Jane asked.
‘We made some progress and got a couple of black drug dealers’ names out of him, but by his description of one of them he’s seen too many movies.’
Bradfield lit a cigarette and told Jane he wanted her to ring the drug squad at Scotland Yard to see if they knew them. He said the main man was described by Eddie Phillips as a huge bloke nicknamed Big Daddy. The other was his mate Dwayne and according to Eddie they passed Julie Ann round like a rag doll, screwing her in return for heroin.
‘The phone call from the hospital . . . maybe she was calling Big Daddy, not Paddy . . .’
Bradfield raised his eyebrows and Jane realized her comment was a bit like telling him to suck eggs.
‘Maybe, but it was rather strange that when I mentioned to Mr Collins that his daughter made a phone call he never asked who to.’
Jane now realized why Bradfield had paused when he mentioned the phone call to Mr Collins.
‘You think she may have phoned her father for money?’ Bradfield tapped his nose twice and it reminded Jane of Shaw Taylor on Police 5 when he used his catchphrase ‘Keep ’em peeled’ when asking viewers to be observant.
Jane continued, ‘Thing is, if she was calling her father then you’d expect she’d know her home phone number and wouldn’t need to ask the switchboard for it. She could maybe have wanted money for an abortion.’
‘Might not have been approved by a registered practitioner, but a back-street abortionist would do it for cash,’ he said, and cocked his head to one side at her concerned expression.
‘It’s so tragic, and it just gets murkier and murkier – every chance in life and she goes off the rails. Do you think something drove her to go against her parents and turn her back on them?’
He shrugged his shoulders: Jane seemed so naive. It got murkier all right, and sometimes it weighed you down. The upside would be when they found the killer, and he knew they would start a fresh round of enquiries now. The case had at last warmed up.
‘Trying to sort out the time frame isn’t easy – three months pregnant, calls from the hospital wanting money . . . Eddie sees her getting into a red Jag about an hour later and swears it was the last time he saw her. She then goes missing for almost two weeks. I dunno – can you type it all up in chronological order for me?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes, certainly, sir.’ She flushed as she looked at him. Something she hadn’t noticed previously was how blue his eyes were, and unlike most red-headed people, his eyelashes were incredibly dark.
‘Is there something else?’ he asked.
‘No, sir.’
Kath returned with a coffee and handing it to Bradfield told him there was a clean bin in his office but she’d need Dettol to sort out his carpet.
‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said, and left the room.
Kath followed him out muttering under her breath, ‘Right, sir, every single DC’s done a runner which just leaves me, so I’ll go get an effing bucket and mop.’
Jane set to work on the time frame, as Bradfield had asked her to do. Kath eventually reappeared wearing yellow Marigold gloves and grinning.
‘Christ, now I stink of Dettol. There was more than just a bit of puke on the floor and boy did it smell.’
‘I’m sorry, I should have helped you.’
‘Don’t be, all done and dusted and at least he didn’t crap everywhere . . . I wouldn’t clean that up for anybody. DS Gibbs is taking a shower – the kid puked over him and his pointy shoes.’
‘Not his winkle-pickers?’ Jane remarked, knowing how upset he’d be.
‘You want a laugh, come with me . . . come on.’
Jane smiled, put some carbon paper between two blank sheets of paper and popped them into the typewriter.
‘Come on, hurry up.’
Curious about what Kath was so eager to show her, Jane followed her out of the room.
‘By the way, Kath, I’m going to the continuation training centre tomorrow for that lecture by the forensic scientist, so I won’t be in.’
‘Ah pity. It’s one of the detectives’ thirtieth birthdays, so you’ll miss a big piss-up in the office. God, they can pack it away. Why don’t you pop in after CTC for a drink and get to know the team a bit better?’
They headed down the stone stairs to the basement, Kath leading the way.
‘I’ll see how I feel,’ Jane said.
‘Sometimes letting your hair down is good for releasin’ all the bloody tensions, Jane, but it’s up to you.’
Kath stopped outside the men’s locker room, inched the door open and leaned in.
‘Ah pity, I think we missed it.’
Jane was still confused as to why they were there.
Kath looked at her. ‘He was givin’ a rendition of Gerry and the Pacemakers before, you know he sings in this band . . . no, hang on . . . shush and listen.’
Jane was anxious to get back to finishing the time frame, but Kath waved her hands for her to be quiet. From the gents’ shower room wafted the unexpectedly clear voice of DS Gibbs loudly singing the Moody Blues song, ‘Nights In White Satin’.
Kath gave a gleeful shrug of her shoulders and whispered that when she could afford it she was going to buy one of those new small tape recorders, as Gibbs continued singing.
‘Kath, I should get back to my desk,’ Jane said, turning to the stairs, but Kath grabbed her arm.
‘No, listen, keep listening . . .’
Kath started mimicking Gibbs quietly in a sing-along, but the more she got carried away the louder her voice became. As Kath’s reached a crescendo Gibbs’s suddenly went silent and she sang solo on the next few lines.
Jane laughed when the disgruntled voice of Spencer Gibbs bellowed out, ‘Eh, who is that . . . is it you, Morgan?’
‘Sing that at my funeral, will you, Spence?’
‘Shut the fuck up, Kath.’
Jane and Kath were holding back the laughter as the shower door opened and Gibbs stepped out with a towel wrapped around him. They both beat a hasty retreat hoping he hadn’t seen them, and Jane wondered if there was something going on between Gibbs and Kath – if so, they certainly kept it quiet.
*
At the end of her shift Jane left the typed time frame and interview notes on Bradfield’s desk and decided to go home.
On the bus she sat in her usual rear seat on the top deck and read through some of her study notes for next month’s probationary exam whilst listening to her radio, which helped divert her mind from the events of the last few days.
There were four teenagers screeching and laughing up at the front, and they began banging on the window when the bus stopped to let passengers on and off. She pushed the earpiece further in and looked down to the pavement to see a teenage boy mouth ‘Fuck off’ and give a two-fingers gesture to the kids on the bus. Jane shook her head and thought that in a poor area like Hackney they probably had nothing better to do.
She was about to continue reading her study notes when she saw Renee Bentley walking slowly towards the bus beside a wheelchair that was piled high with Co-op bags filled with groceries and cans of beer. Holding the handles of the chair was a chiselled-faced man in his early thirties. He had blond shoulder-length hair and walked with bowed legs, dragging one foot slightly, but he had a big chest and wide athletic shoulders like a weight-lifter. Jane remembered PC Donaldson telling her about David Bentley falling from the church roof. She had seen the chair when she took Renee Bentley home, and wrongly presumed it was for her, but it was obviously for her son.
Mrs Bentley’s pale face made her look worn out, but she was quite well dressed in a smart coat with a fake-fur collar. The boy on the street who had been gesturing to his friends on the top of the bus was walking backwards when he accidently banged against the wheelchair. David Bentley reacted instantly with speed, pushing the kid aside with one sweep of his right arm. The kid almost stumbled off his feet, and David lost his balance, but Renee caught his arm to steady him. The boy ran off laughing as David gripped the wheelchair handles and eased it down the kerb to cross the road. As the bus pulled away Jane stood up to look from the back window. She could see Renee and David standing in the gutter and she realized how close they were to being knocked over. Jane could see the frustrated fury on David’s face from when the boy had laughed at him, and as Renee put a protective arm around her son he shrugged her away.
Jane sat back in her seat remembering how John Bentley had scared her, the way he had shouted and frogmarched her out of the flat. David in comparison looked rather pitiful, but recalling the tired face of Mrs Bentley she felt sorrier for Renee.
