Tennison. Lynda La plante

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ