Bradfield patted Gibbs’s arm and he sat back. ‘Easy, Spence, that wasn’t how it happened, was it, Kenneth? Yes, you put your hands up for nicking from pensioners, and you owned up to the Magistrate. But this was different: she was lovely and you knew what she was, but that didn’t matter, did it?’
‘I don’t go out with toms,’ Boyle said, shaking his head.
‘Oh come on, Kenneth, you liked her — and you’d got money now, all that cash you nicked. Did you offer to pay her?’ Bradfield asked, and moved Julie Ann’s photograph closer.
Gibbs leaned forwards again. ‘Shit, you were gonna pay to screw her and she still turned you down? That must have fucked your head, cos you knew she was a slag, knew everyone else was getting it.’
‘No.’ Boyle‘s face twisted.
Bradfield slid in his next question. ‘When did you know about the money she had? I don’t believe she’d give you cash for drugs as she already had her own dealer.’
Boyle was so thick he couldn’t see how Bradfield and Gibbs were playing with his head and there was a hideous pause as Boyle stared at the floor and constantly scratched his raw acne.
He wouldn’t look up. ‘She dropped her purse and—’
‘Oh I see, she dropped her purse and you picked it up?’
Gibbs cut in. ‘You ripped her blouse open and pulled off her bra so you could fondle her tits, but she resisted and you went ape and strangled her with her own bra.’
Still Boyle said nothing, but from the look of self-pity on his face Bradfield knew he and Spencer Gibbs had got it right about what happened in the kids’ adventure playground. Gibbs replaced the picture of Julie Ann before she started taking drugs with the one of her body at the playground.
‘That’s what you did to her, you murdered her and then stole her money. Look at the photograph, see her eyes and tongue? Remember them bulging out as you squeezed the life out of her, can you? LOOK AT IT!’ he shouted.
Boyle swiped at the table, and the photographs slid onto the floor as he started crying.
Bradfield leant over and patted Boyle’s back. ‘Come on, now, son, calm down. Take us through what happened, Kenneth. You’ll feel better once you get it off your chest. Just tell us what happened because I know you never meant to hurt her.’
Bradfield waited as Gibbs collected the photographs and stacked them like a pack of cards.
‘You got a tissue, WPC Morgan?’
Kath delved into her pocket and passed over a clean tissue. Bradfield handed it to Kenneth who blew his nose and then began to knead the sodden tissue.
‘It was night-time and I saw her on a swing in the kids’ playground by the Kingsmead Estate. I went over to her, she stopped and looked me up and down and I told her I’d seen her around lots of times, even talked to her once, but she ignored me and said to go away. I tried to talk to her more and was being nice but then she told me to piss off as she was waiting for someone. But I guessed it was for a punter so I said I had money to pay her for sex and she laughed at me. She got off the swing and started to walk away so I touched her shoulder and asked her to stay. Next thing I knew she turned round and spat at me, she gobbed at me right in my face. She dropped her bag and bent over to pick it up and I dunno, I just went crazy — dragged her to the ground and got on top of her.’ He started crying again.
‘I know it must be horrible for you to recall it all, son, but you’re doing well and it’s almost over, so keep going,’ Bradfield said, urging him to confess.
‘Oh Christ, I dunno how it happened. I put one hand over her mouth then ripped her shirt open and pulled at her bra which came undone, then she bit my hand and when I pulled it away from her mouth she started to scream. I was scared someone would hear her and in a panic I put the bra round her neck and shit, I didn’t mean it, but I kept on pulling it tighter and tighter...’
He sobbed, using his hands to show how he had pulled the bra, crossing his wrists as it tightened round her neck, and then tightened it in a knot.
‘I got scared and ran off with her bag. It wasn’t for the money, I swear before God it wasn’t for the money. I didn’t know how much she had until I got home.’
Jane went to the ladies’ locker room to hang up her uniform jacket before going off duty. She saw an upset-looking Kath sitting on a bench and hesitated before going over to ask if she was all right.
‘Yeah, Kenneth Boyle just confessed to killing Julie Ann. It was so sickening listening to him go over it all. He’s being charged now by DS Gibbs and will appear at the Magistrates’ Court in the morning. It’s weird, I just want to cry. But I tell you, Bradfield’s a cool bastard. Just as I thought he was feeling sorry for the pathetic little shit, he laid it on him that he also killed the kid she was expecting. His voice was harsh and you could tell he loathed Boyle. Gibbs is the same, they kind of do a double act, but they got him to admit everything, no big drama it was just...’ She sighed. ‘It wasn’t making me feel good, which I honestly believed it would, you know, getting closure, but all I could really think of was what a waste of life. Anyway this time he won’t get banged up for months, he’ll be there for twenty-five years at least.’
Back in her room at the section house Jane couldn’t stop thinking about what Kath had said about the waste of life. By the time she had got undressed and was ready to take a shower, she didn’t feel like having anything to eat, or God forbid, going to the pub or sitting in one of the TV rooms.
Lying down on her bed, she found herself thinking of Bradfield and his remark ‘Chance would be a fine thing’. Did he mean that he expected an approach by him to be rejected? She curled up and tucked her hands under her chin. At the beginning of the investigation she hadn’t been impressed by his manner but now she knew she was infatuated and even in awe of him. Over and over again she had been surprised by him: the time she had seen him gently touch the dead girl’s foot, his kindness at the Collinses’ house before he knew about their daughter’s beating, how, drunk outside the pub, he’d told her that he felt as if they were the only ones who cared.
She remembered, too, all the odd things he had said to her, unsure if they were complimentary or not. She curled up tighter because now, lying alone in her room, she had to admit to herself that she hoped that he did like her.
Give me just a little bit of your heart now, baby...
Chapter twenty-two
Crossing the station yard to prepare for the early shift parade at 6 a.m., Jane was startled to see a disgruntled Sergeant Harris carrying a large black bin bag.
‘Morning, Sergeant,’ she said overbrightly.
‘Bradfield’s lot had a big booze-up in the CID office last night. The cleaner was refusing to deal with the mess until I offered to help, so I’ve had to schlep out these ruddy beer cans and bottles. Christ only knows how much they all put away, but I heard someone had to carry WPC Morgan to a taxi.’
‘Can I help?’
‘No, it’s done. You can go out on foot patrol today, seven beat covering Shoreditch on the far end of the ground.’
‘Can I get a panda car to drop me off?’ Jane was surprised, yet pleased that Harris was letting her out on patrol for once.
‘No, bloody well walk or get a bus. There’s an outstanding call from last night on that beat so get the details from the control room.’
Jane spoke with the PC who was manning the phones and radios. It transpired the call had come in at midnight, but as it was very busy no one was available to attend and the disgruntled caller was told someone would visit him in the morning. The PC handed Jane a copy of the message and said the night-shift operator had told him the caller had some information about a possible robbery. Jane asked why the CID weren’t dealing with it and the PC said the caller had a squeaky voice and sounded ‘a sandwich short of a picnic’. Jane guessed it was the same person Harris had put the phone down on the day before. She looked at the caller’s details. His name was Ashley Brennan and he lived in Hoxton Street. Gathering up her things, she booked out a Storno radio and put it in her handbag before heading off to catch the bus.