Julie opted to have a duty solicitor attend the interview, but waived her right to have someone informed. She figured that her parents already knew anyway, and Rita would probably be in the same position that she was in at the moment. Besides, if she did ring Rita, she feared that her motives might be misinterpreted.
She didn’t think about Vinny; she hardly had time to think at all as Inspector Bowden rushed her through the process, eager to deal with her as soon as possible. Sergeant Miller complied with his demands as he didn’t wish to offend the inspector.
Julie was then handed back to Sergeant Drummond, the female arresting officer, who led her to an interview room and advised her that they had to wait until arrangements for collection of the urine sample were made. Then she would be interviewed.
The time spent waiting seemed a lifetime although it was no more than a couple of minutes. Julie felt clammy and uncomfortable. She was conscious of Sergeant Drummond watching her all the time, and her heart was beating so loud she thought the sergeant must be able to hear it and sense the fear that surged through her body. She tried to look away from Sergeant Drummond, occupying herself by studying the bare, neutral walls, and picking out odd flaws in the paintwork, but always there was the disconcerting sensation of being watched. Like a fly drawn into a web, she constantly needed to check whether she was still being observed, but each time she caught her eye she felt increasingly uncomfortable.
Eventually the custody sergeant entered the room accompanied by a female officer who, he explained, was authorised to take a urine sample. Julie was taken away, thankful to have escaped the watchful eye of Sergeant Drummond, but dreading what might lie in store for her next.
The officer carried out the procedure with the minimum of fuss, but it didn’t lessen Julie’s shame and embarrassment. She then informed Julie that she would now be taken back to the interview room. Julie felt as though she was on a factory conveyor belt; being forcefully transported through the various painful stages of her own destruction, wanting to call a halt to the whole thing but powerless to do so.
When Julie entered the interview room for a second time, she was met by the fierce glare of Inspector Bowden accompanied by his sidekick Sergeant Drummond. Seeing the expression on his face, Julie knew that her initial assumption was about to be proved correct; he was going to give her one hell of a grilling.
For the next twenty-four hours the irrepressible Inspector Bowden and Sergeant Drummond conducted interviews at spasmodic intervals, breaking occasionally for food and refreshments at the insistence of the custody sergeant, Miller, who took great delight in ensuring that the correct procedure was being carried out, and meticulously recording the information on his custody sheet.
Throughout the interview periods the interrogation was relentless, with the two officers asking her the same questions repeatedly in the hope that she would crack and give something away. Part of Inspector Bowden’s interview technique was to ask a series of quick fire questions in his most commanding tone, without pausing, so that Julie felt bewildered and unable to say anything in her defence.
Julie had been supplied with a duty solicitor, a small, balding, meagre looking man in his late fifties. Although a complete stranger to Julie, she had presented her case to him and he had done his best to advise and support her. However, against the might of Inspector Bowden and Sergeant Drummond, their joint pleadings were pitiful.
During the repeated interviews Julie had suffered a range of emotions. She had shouted, argued, cajoled and, at one point, broken down in tears and almost begged for mercy. She felt sheer frustration at her inability to convince the two officers of her innocence.
In the late evening Inspector Bowden switched emphasis. The new scenario that he presented to Julie took her by surprise.
‘On her return home Amanda Morris boasted to her boyfriend about the drugs which she had taken whilst in your company,’ he said.
‘We didn’t take any drugs!’ snapped Julie. ‘We don’t go in for that sort of thing. We’re just normal girls out to have a good time, that’s all.’
‘Normal, Miss Quinley? Normal, do you say? Do you call running around ripping each other’s tights off, normal? Do you call being asked to leave a certain establishment, because you were dancing on the tables, normal? Do you call having to accompany your friend home, due to her severely drunken and drugged up state, normal?’
As the inspector asked each question, his voice took on a more aggressive tone, laying much emphasis on the word ‘normal’. Perversely, what had seemed hilarious to Julie the previous evening, now seemed ridiculous and immature when described by Inspector Bowden. She cringed with embarrassment.
The intervals between questioning were just as traumatic for Julie. She spent her time in a sparse cell that contained a narrow bed with one shabby blanket and no pillow. In one corner of the cell was a washbasin with a pot placed underneath it. The bed was hard and uncomfortable and she felt cold. There was a dank, musty odour, intermingled with the smell of urine.
She was unable to sleep; partly because of the discomfort, but also because of her state of mind. A couple of times she had awoken after a few minutes, shivering, both from the cold and from fear. Her dreams had been disturbing; she had dreamt of death and her own persecution. In one dream she had been tried for murder, and the jury had laughed. She could hear them whispering amongst themselves, “she’s not normal”, “her behaviour isn’t normal” and the foreman sneered at her as he announced the verdict “guilty”. Julie felt despair as the judge passed sentence, and heard herself scream. When she woke up, she could still feel the tension in her muscles especially her throat, which felt sore and dry.
The small, bare cell offered no escape from her nightmares. Each time Julie awoke, she recalled the full horror of the situation as she took in her surroundings.
Eventually Julie gave up on sleep and sat upright on the bed. There was nothing to keep her occupied except her own thoughts, which were almost as tortuous as the dreams. She kept seeing the pained expression on her mother’s face when the police had made the arrest, and her father’s look of anger and humiliation. As much as Julie hated the present situation, she dreaded returning home.
Her mind turned to Rita. Had she been arrested as well? She was presumably the “one other” to whom Inspector Bowden had referred. How was she coping? Knowing Rita as she did, Julie assumed that she would be giving the police a good run for their money. “What if Rita had given drugs to Amanda while I was at the ladies?” she thought, but she pooh-poohed the idea. “Rita might be flirtatious and brash, but she’s far too level-headed to do anything so stupid.”
Julie wished that she hadn’t let Rita persuade her to lace Amanda’s drinks with shorts. “But it’s too late now!” she thought. “The damage has already been done.”
-------------------
Saturday 21st June 1986
Inspector Bowden strode towards the door of Detective Chief Inspector Marshall’s office, stopped and knocked loudly.
‘Come in!’ shouted the DCI.
Inspector Bowden entered and saw DCI Marshall seated behind his enormous desk appearing affable and relaxed as usual. However, Inspector Bowden knew that under his pleasant, rotund exterior, the DCI harboured a hidden depth and determination that was underestimated by those who lived to regret it.
The DCI pre-empted Inspector Bowden by asking, ‘How is the investigation coming along inspector?’
This caught Inspector Bowden a little off guard, changing the scenario that he had rehearsed in his mind. However, he still felt certain that his words would make an impact on the DCI, and bring about a positive response to his request.
‘Very well, sir,’ he replied. ‘In fact, that’s the purpose of my visit, to confirm that we will be taking the suspects to court to request a three day remand in the cells once the 72 hours is up.’
Inspector Bowden thought that by giving DCI Marshall the impression that a three day remand had already been agreed, he co
uld pressure him to make a request at the Magistrates’ Court.
DCI Marshall, however, was well rehearsed in responding to pressure and Inspector Bowden presented very little threat to him. He let out a jaded sigh before replying in a patronising manner. ‘Now then Inspector Bowden, let’s take this one step at a time, shall we? Firstly, before we even think about taking anybody to court, you need the superintendent’s agreement to hold the suspects for the initial 72 hours.’ He paused for effect, and watched Inspector Bowden squirm before he continued. ‘At this point, Inspector Bowden, it has not yet been decided whether we will be holding them that long.’
As Inspector Bowden tried to respond, the DCI raised his voice while placing his right hand in front of him, indicating that he hadn’t finished speaking. ‘Secondly, Inspector Bowden, before we reach a decision, there are a couple of matters that we need to consider. Perhaps you could help me by answering the following questions?’
Again he continued before giving Inspector Bowden a chance to speak. ‘How are the suspects shaping up? Is there any sign of them confessing or do they still maintain their innocence?’
‘Oh they’ll admit it all right. They’ve got to in the end. It’s obvious they’re guilty.’
‘That,’ boomed the DCI, ‘does not answer my question! Have the suspects actually admitted anything?’
‘No,’ Inspector Bowden was forced to concede.
‘Very well then; how about our other enquiries? Have any of the team come up with anything? Have any witnesses come forward to say they saw anything untoward take place?’
‘Yes sir, as soon as the suspects told us which bars they’d visited we sent some officers straight there to question the public. A few of the staff from the Portland Bars remembered their raucous behaviour from last night,’ Inspector Bowden volunteered, ‘and a barman even saw them pouring vodka into one of Amanda Morris’s drinks before handing it to her.’
‘Raucous behaviour is not what killed Amanda Morris, inspector, and if our suspicions prove correct, and there were drugs involved, then a witness to a drink spiked with vodka is simply not good enough! Am I correct in assuming that no drugs were found on either of the suspects or in their homes?’
‘Yes,’ replied the inspector. ‘But Amanda Morris’s boyfriend says she boasted to him about the drugs she had taken while in the company of the suspects, sir.’
‘Are you referring to Mr Leslie Stevens?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘A man with a previous record, I believe.’
‘Yes sir, but not drugs related, just driving offences, and petty theft when he was an adolescent.’
‘Nevertheless, it makes him an unreliable witness. What about the urine samples?’
‘No trace of drugs sir.’
‘Very well. Under the circumstances, I feel that I have no alternative but to recommend to the superintendent that we release the suspects due to lack of evidence.’
As Inspector Bowden began to make desperate protestations, the DCI added, ‘That will be all inspector! You may leave my office.’
Inspector Bowden, realising that he was wasting his time by pleading any further, retreated from DCI Marshall’s office, feeling temporarily defeated.
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Sunday 22nd June 1986
In the early hours of Sunday morning Sergeant Miller entered Julie’s cell.
‘Go and collect your things, you’re going home,’ he instructed.
‘Why, what’s happened?’ she asked.
‘Never mind, just do as you’re told and do it quickly before the inspector changes his mind!’
Julie obliged. She was unaware that Inspector Bowden had been compelled to release her following his meeting with DCI Marshall.
In a neighbouring interview room Rita had also undergone stringent questioning from one of Inspector Bowden’s colleagues, and this interview hadn’t yielded any results either. So Julie left the police cells feeling a mixture of emotions; relief that she was no longer in custody, but anxiety about the reception that she would receive when she arrived home.
Throughout her time spent at the police station, the one person who Julie had not given any thought to was her boyfriend, Vinny. In the midst of her ordeal, it had escaped her mind that she had arranged to meet him at the Bella Vida restaurant at 8pm on Saturday evening.
Chapter 6
Saturday 21st June 1986
Vinny entered the Bella Vida just before 8pm. He was feeling a combination of nervousness and excitement as he thought about his plan to take his relationship with Julie to a higher level of commitment, and toyed with the small package inside his jacket pocket. He was dressed smartly in a pair of beige Chino trousers, a pale blue and beige striped shirt and a navy blue jacket. Vinny had made a special effort for this evening, which he hoped would be a memorable one. However, although he had arranged to meet Julie inside the restaurant at 8pm, there was no sign of her. “Oh well, I am a bit early,” he thought, and he took his seat at the table for two and waited patiently.
While he anticipated Julie’s arrival, his mind became absorbed by thoughts of her. He had known Julie for most of his life. When he was eleven they began to attend the same secondary school; Vinny had recognised her as the well-presented and attractive girl who lived a few streets away. Even at that age there was something about her that made her stand out from the crowd. She later admitted to him that until she saw him at secondary school, she wasn’t aware that he existed.
That didn’t surprise Vinny as he had been the quiet type. All through school they didn’t have much to do with each other. They were in different classes for one thing. Julie was in one of the top classes whereas Vinny was midstream.
He had always liked her and when he reached the age where girls became a major obsession, Julie was top on his list of desirables. He’d never had the courage to approach her though. Although good looking, he wasn’t cool enough to be considered a heart-throb, and he thought of girls like Julie as being well out of his league. In a school of over a thousand pupils, Vinny saw himself as just one of hundreds of ordinary boys.
After leaving school he noticed her the odd time in the street or at the bus stop and they would acknowledge each other with a polite nod of the head. He still didn’t have the courage to ask her out until a couple of years after they had left school.
He was in Saturdays nightclub with some of the lads when he spotted Julie and Rita only yards away. His heart began to race on catching sight of Julie, immaculately dressed and oozing sensuality. He couldn’t help but stare.
Rita was the first to react, and unfortunately, she seemed to be taking his staring as a sign of encouragement.
He noticed them deep in discussion; a discussion that seemed to concern him as Julie also began to look in his direction. To his surprise she submitted a pleasing smile, which he returned. He could feel his face flushing and he reacted by turning away. Mentally he scolded himself as he knew that she would interpret this as a lack of interest. He turned back, thrilled that she was still watching him, and this time he managed to hold her gaze until she and Rita responded by approaching him.
His first impulse was to panic. “Jesus, Julie Quinley’s coming over. What do I do, what do I say?” he thought. He was tempted to walk away, but he knew that if he did he would miss his chance to impress her. So he stayed, and smiled avidly as Rita opened up the conversation.
‘I thought it was you,’ she began. ‘We haven’t seen you in here before. Is this going to become a habit?’
He noticed her initial use of the word “I”, subconsciously excluding Julie, and wondered if they had approached him on Rita’s account. The situation then presented him with more challenges; how to talk to them without making a fool of himself, and at the same time let them know that it was Julie he was interested in and not Rita.
He fumbled for words, staring shyly at the two girls and aware of Julie’s eyes on him. It took a few moments before he replied, but when he did he seemed to do
OK. By turning towards Julie and addressing his reply to her, he made it obvious that she was the one he was attracted to. ‘It’s my first time here,’ he said, ‘but I might just make it a regular thing.’
Once he had broken the silence they began to make small talk, discussing mutual acquaintances, school memories and careers. He occasionally eyed Rita, trying to keep her a part of the conversation out of politeness, but the person who he addressed most of his comments to was Julie. As soon as Rita sensed his lack of interest, she slipped out of their company and found somebody else to chat up, leaving him alone with Julie. The prospect no longer daunted him, however, as the conversation was now in full flow and he felt that they were getting along well. The four pints of lager that he had drunk also helped.
It was obvious that Julie was attracted to him and he couldn’t believe his luck. In fact, he was so eager that he couldn’t help but get tongue tied now and again. She seemed impressed when he revealed that he had bought his own house. That didn’t last long though when he told her that it was in the next street from his parents, and that he still went there for tea most evenings.
As the night progressed and the alcohol loosened Vinny’s tongue, he confessed that he remembered her from as far back as about the age of seven, even before they went to the same school. He had always admired her from a distance but hadn’t done anything about it as he had thought she would not be interested in him. As he put it, ‘brainy girls didn’t go out with lads from his class.’ As soon as he uttered the words he felt foolish and inadequate.
When he plucked up the courage to ask Julie on a date, she delighted him by saying yes. That was two years ago, and they were still no further forward than they had ever been. Vinny wondered why; there seemed to be an aloofness to Julie that he couldn’t penetrate. He felt that even now she didn’t regard him as her equal. But that wasn’t good enough for Vinny. He wanted more from the relationship than just a casual acquaintance. Maybe with a ring on her finger everything would be different, and if she turned him down, well that would prove that she didn’t think that much of him anyway. What he would do if that situation arose he wasn’t quite sure, but at least he would know where he stood, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew that it was something he had to do.
Slur: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1 Page 4
