Kath suggested that Jane go and give Bradfield the good news, but she hesitated.
‘What’s up?’
‘Do I smell of Dettol?’
‘Yeah, I noticed it, why?’
‘I must be getting used to it – my jacket and skirt need dry-cleaning.’
Kath went to her bag, took out a perfume spray, and before Jane could refuse gave her a few squirts. It was an expensive perfume she always wore herself.
‘There you go. It’s called Ambush, Goddess of Fragrance.’
Jane was about to go to Bradfield’s office when DS Gibbs walked in and sniffed.
‘Bloody hell, smells like somebody shat in a pine forest in here.’
‘Piss off,’ Kath mumbled under her breath.
‘What did you say, Morgan?’ Gibbs said with a glare, wondering if she was being insubordinate.
‘It’s off.’
‘What’s off?’
‘The search for Eddie Phillips. He’s been nicked and is in the cells downstairs—’
Gibbs was out of the office to tell Bradfield the good news before she could even finish the sentence.
Jane couldn’t believe how much Kath had pushed her luck, but was pleased not to have to see Bradfield when she was reeking of Kath’s perfume.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As 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 t
he 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?’
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