There hadn’t been a reaction from Kevin at all, not even a glimmer, so I continued, ‘A senior policeman once told me that he didn’t like my organisation but he couldn’t believe I was stupid enough or so far beyond redemption that I would arrange to have a young girl murdered to further my own ends. You are though Kevin, aren’t you?’
‘What did you just say?’ asked Joe Kinane sharply and he was leaning forwards in his seat now like he was about to launch himself at me. I could sense Palmer tensing in readiness.
‘It was him Joe, your son. He killed Gemma Carlton. Your eldest here heard me ranting about DI Carlton getting in our way. There I was, wishing this annoying copper would just pack up and fuck off out of it, because his obsession with bringing me down was getting to me, so he decided to solve the problem, though he had a funny way of doing it. I can understand your shock Joe, but Kevin has to account for it.’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid,’ Kinane told me, ‘you’ve got this all wrong…’
‘Kevin hangs out at Cachet all the time, meets loads of girls there, always chatting to them, so who’s gonna remember one more, eh? And the CCTV doesn’t cover the VIP bar, only the lift, so he could meet anyone he liked up there. One day he hears about Gemma Carlton. Maybe she’d mentioned to someone that her dad was a copper so Kevin took an interest, then he realised who she was. He figured getting rid of her would knock the stuffing out of her old man, and he was right about that. So he got to know her, just a little bit, enough to slip her a VIP pass on the QT and give her a lift home. He was seen doing that. Did you get her to introduce herself to Golden Boots too Kevin, or just encourage Louise to do that for you? I reckon so. She was his type wasn’t she; young, pretty and a bit naive, the way he likes them. When he shagged her you had the perfect patsy; a suspect that surprised nobody.’
‘I’m warning you,’ Joe Kinane told me and he got to his feet. Palmer took a step towards him and they eyed each other.
‘Hear me out Joe, you’d be wise to. We’ve been looking for the driver, the one who took Gemma Carlton from that party out into the woods but I found him. I’ve had Kevin looking for the guy and it was him all along. That’s why he volunteered to work with Sharp to hunt for the killer. It was him and he didn’t even take her to the party. He didn’t have to. Kevin arranged to pick her up at her student house, drove her somewhere and killed her in the car. That’s why nobody really remembers her being there. Not because they were all off their tits on drugs but because she really wasn’t there. Kevin told everyone she’d been seen there that night but she couldn’t have been. She was already dead.’
‘You’re out of your fucking mind,’ Joe Kinane told me. He looked at his son, but Kevin was saying nowt. Instead he was listening intently so he could learn what I had against him before he tried to deny it.
‘Kevin stuck her body in the boot of a car he’d lifted from Golden Boots’ place, leaving traces of her hair and fibres from her clothes all over it. His too, probably, but then nobody was looking for him and he could just say he’d driven it before, loads of people had. The important thing was leaving traces of Gemma for the police to find, so they could build a case against Golden Boots.
‘Kevin drove her out to the woods and dumped her body. It looked like someone had panicked and ditched her there but Kevin wanted her to be found. The bit he thought was really clever was taking her phone and handbag and planting them at Golden Boots’ house later. That, and the DNA in the boot of the car, is doing the work of the Prosecution for them.
‘Gemma’s dad was out of the picture and we had a fall guy he knew the police would love to put away. Trouble was, DI Carlton immediately thought it was me who’d killed his daughter. You see he thought she was a blushing virgin, tucked up in bed at night with her school books and a hot-water bottle for company. He knew nowt about Golden Boots and his parties, so obviously he thought I was responsible for her death and he was right, wasn’t he Kevin? I was, indirectly.’
‘Why are you saying all this?’ Joe Kinane’s tone had changed to one of pleading. It was hard to tell what was upsetting him more, me talking or his son staying silent.
‘Because we have a witness, Joe. More than one, in fact. A girl in Gemma’s street, for one, who saw the man who took Gemma Carlton away in a car that night. He’s a distinctive-looking lad, your Kevin. Not a face you’d easily forget,’ then I looked Kevin right in the eye, ‘you should have had your teeth fixed Kevin. If you’d done that I might never have known.’
Kevin Kinane looked sick. I’d deliberately worded the bit about the witness so he wouldn’t know who it was or how many people had seen him that night. I didn’t want him charging down to Theresa’s house and trying to shut her up. The way I’d told it, he was screwed.
Eventually I said, ‘Your dad is waiting for you to deny it, Kevin, but I know that you won’t. I just want to know why. What the fuck got into your stupid, sick head that made you think killing a copper’s daughter was a good idea?’
Kevin Kinane stared back at me, then he turned to his father. Joe Kinane looked as if he was finally really seeing his son for the first time.
‘It isn’t true,’ said Joe, ‘tell him it isn’t true Kevin, please. Tell me and him that he’s got it wrong. No son of mine could…’ and his words tailed away.
‘We killed a girl before, remember?’ Kevin told his dad. ‘She was innocent too, or have you forgotten about her?’
‘Jesus, that wasn’t… that was an accident,’ Joe Kinane protested, ‘and no, I have not forgotten about her. I think about her every day. Not a single night goes by when I don’t wish I could turn the clock back and find a way to see off Braddock that doesn’t involve killing that poor lass. All this time it’s been eating me up inside,’ and I believed him, ‘And you? What do you do? You don’t lie awake at night thinking about her. You go off and do something far worse. How the hell could you do this Kevin? How can you live with it?’
Kevin Kinane wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer that one.
‘You once told me that when we finally found the lowlife who’d killed this young girl we should kill him,’ I reminded Joe, ‘you told me that was what he deserved. I said no, that we needed to hand him over to the police to clear my name and when he got a life sentence that would be justice of sorts. Well, now you know it’s Kevin, so what are you going to do, kill him or send him down for life? You tell me Joe, because I have run out of answers.’
I had never seen Joe Kinane knocked down by anyone before but those words, and the knowledge that came with them, floored the big man. He took a step backwards and his legs seemed to give way, as he dropped back onto the couch, brought his huge hands up to his face and buried his head in them.
39
It took the jury eleven hours to reach its verdict. It was a big day for the Premier League. They finally had their first convicted murderer.
Afterwards the Press had a field day, going into moral overdrive, reminding us that Golden Boots was a beast of our own making, while conveniently forgetting their role in the feeding of that monstrous ego. It was our misplaced adulation, our distorted sense of the importance of celebrity that had really killed Gemma Carlton, or so they told us. By indulging Golden Boots throughout the whole of his pampered life, by never saying no to him, always finding excuses for his behaviour, giving him more second, third and final chances, than any human being should reasonably be allowed, we were all of us complicit in her death. They told us it was only ever going to be a matter of time before a footballer had such an overblown sense of the importance of his own life that he thought nothing of robbing a young girl of hers.
Of course, like much of what passes for journalism in this day and age, it was bollocks. Golden Boots didn’t kill Gemma Carlton at all. I knew that, but I wouldn’t have been able to save his worthless hide even if I’d wanted to.