Emma nodded. ‘He worked for my father and returned to Cyprus after his death. He came back to England a few years ago and found out where we lived. I wrote the letters to the council about a move to get away from him... Asil is a criminal, just like my father was.’
‘It sounds like you’ve spoken to him.’
‘He waited for me outside my work one day. I didn’t know who he was at first, but he called me Emira and I could see the resemblance to my father. I told him I wanted nothing to do with him and walked away, but he begged me to hear him out and said he only wanted to help me and Rachel. I said we were fine and didn’t need his help, but he followed me and said he was already helping us.’
Jane guessed what Asil had done.
‘He’d threatened the people on the estate who were abusing you.’
‘Not him directly. He hired some people to find us, they witnessed it and he told them to sort it out.’
‘So you did talk with him.’
‘Yes, I couldn’t get away from him. He told me he never worked for my father and sent us to St. Cuthbert’s because he was unable to raise us on his own. Now he’d returned to the UK he wanted to make amends, but I told him Rachel and I would never forgive him and not to come near us again or I would call the police. He handed me a large envelope and said it contained twenty-five thousand pounds, which we could use to buy a place of our own. I told him I didn’t want his ill-gotten gains and threw it back at him. Then he handed me a business card and tried to convince me he owned a company in Cyprus that exported fruit for big supermarkets. I knew he was lying, tore the card up and walked away.’
‘When did you speak to him?’
‘About two months ago.’
‘And you haven’t heard from him since?’
‘No, but I’m sure he’s watching us. You have to understand I can’t risk Rachel finding out the truth. If we can get moved off the estate then he won’t be able to find us.’
‘He has already, and he will again if he wants to. The good thing is that so far he hasn’t turned up here. I’m grateful you’ve told me the truth, Emma, but knowing what I do now puts me in a difficult position. I can’t lie to the council to help you get a move—’
‘And I can’t tell them the truth for Rachel’s sake.’
‘Leave it with me for now. My detective inspector was arranging for a local detective to speak to you next week. I’ll have to tell him about our conversation today and seek his advice about the best way forward, then I’ll let you know what he suggests.’
On the way back to the car Jane told Teflon about her conversation with Emma in the kitchen.
‘That puts everything in a different light,’ he remarked.
‘I wouldn’t want Rachel standing up in court where the defense could use her family past against her and she wouldn’t have a clue what they were talking about.’
‘In that case, do you think you did the right thing by asking her to keep helping us?’
‘We can use what she tells us as intelligence and not evidence. That way we won’t need to call her as a witness and can protect her identity.’
‘That’s good thinking, but I’d run it by Murphy first and let him make the decision.’
He opened the driver’s door. She got in the passenger seat and looked at her pocket notebook.
‘Do you want to get off home now or are you happy to carry on working?’
‘I’m easy. Where do you want to go?’
He started the car and prepared to drive off.
‘I was thinking of visiting Abby Jones. She’s the young girl who saw the man shooting at the police car—’
‘Didn’t Murphy say to hold off on her for now?’
‘Yes, but I’ve a gut feeling she may have seen O’Reilly’s face. What she said to me at the scene doesn’t add up.’
He frowned at Jane. ‘That will piss Murphy off big time — and that’s not something you want to do right now.’
She checked something in her pocket notebook.
‘I asked Abby to describe the tall man who got out of the passenger seat of the Cortina. She told me he was wearing a balaclava, even though every other witness said he was wearing a brown stocking mask.’
Teflon shrugged. ‘The poor kid obviously made a mistake — which is understandable when there are bullets flying round your head and police cars crashing in front of you.’
‘From where the getaway car stopped in Woodville Road there were two trails of blood. One ran to the middle of the road, where several drops were confined to a small area, which indicates someone was standing there. The fired cartridge cases were near there as well, and the direction of the other blood trail was returning to where the car had been—’
He was starting to get frustrated with her stubbornness.
‘I think maybe it’s best we call it a day.’
But Jane wasn’t going to be deterred.
‘If the man who fired the handgun at the police car had a cut to his forehead, you’d expect the stocking mask to soak up the blood and maybe leave a few drops here and there.’
‘What’s your point, Jane?’
‘If the blood was being soaked up by the stocking it would spread like ink on blotting paper, making it difficult to see. We think O’Reilly was the man who fired the handgun, and we know he has a cut to his head. I believe he took the stocking mask off before he got out of the getaway car because he couldn’t see with it on. Abby wasn’t mistaken; she lied because she was frightened. But if she can identify O’Reilly in a line-up, we’ve got him. Likewise, if Fiona Simpson can identify Graham, plus we can link them to the Ripley brothers—’
‘Even if Abby Jones agrees to do an ID parade, she might bottle it on the day, then you’re left with nothing. You nick them on the plot, and they’re all fucked in one hit.’
‘That could happen, but we won’t know unless we speak to her. If she agrees to look at an ID parade, we can tell Murphy, then he can decide on the next move.’
‘He’ll still be pissed off.’
‘God forbid the next robbery our suspects commit should go wrong again. Like Murphy said, one of us — or worse, an innocent bystander — could get killed... all because we want to make a pavement arrest.’
He sighed and shook his head. ‘Christ, you can be infuriating at times... What’s Abby’s address?’
‘Number 6 Leybourne Road, Leytonstone.’ She grinned. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll take the blame if Murphy gets his knickers in a twist.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jane rang the doorbell of a terraced, two-bedroom Victorian property and Abby opened the door. She looked worried when she saw who it was.
‘Hi, Abby.’ Jane smiled. ‘You remember me? This is my colleague DC Johnson. Are your mum and dad in?’
‘No, they’re both out,’ she said with a frown.
‘I wonder if we could come in and have a quick word with you about what you saw on Thursday morning in Woodville Road?’
‘I’ve already told you everything.’
‘Have you told your parents about it?’
‘Yes, and my dad was angry with me, he said I shouldn’t have spoken to you without his permission.’
‘If you’d still been sixteen that would be true — but now you’re seventeen we don’t need his permission.’
Teflon threw Jane a warning glance, but she ignored him.
‘There are just a couple more questions I’d like to ask you, then we’ll be on our way.’
Abby sighed and opened the door.
They followed her into the living room, where her son Daniel was asleep in a bassinet on the sofa. Abby sat down next to him with a surly look on her face and her arms folded.
‘What do you want to ask me?’
Jane decided to get straight to the point.