LITMIR.BIZ

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by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off the mattress. He was like a rag doll and it didn’t take long to realize Eddie was still stoned and could hardly string two words together, never mind stand upright. Bradfield got straight to the point and asked him who Julie Ann had phoned from the doctor’s office while he kept lookout. Eddie mumbled something about the police harassing his grandmother and picking on him. Bradfield told him he hadn’t even started yet and instructed one of the uniform officers who’d arrested Eddie to ply him with coffee for the next two hours in order to wake him up so that he could be interviewed.

      *

      Jane ushered a pale-faced George Collins upstairs to Bradfield’s office. He was wearing a dark navy pinstriped suit, and he was so thin that the shoulders appeared to be padded. Underneath the suit jacket was a pristine white shirt, with a tie that had a small crossed golf-club monogram on it.

      He was cordial as he shook hands with Bradfield and apologized for not being able to come to the station earlier due to a meeting with the vicar about his daughter’s funeral. Bradfield explained it might be some time before the body was released, but he would speak with the coroner whose decision it would be. He then invited Mr Collins to sit opposite him and offered refreshments. He declined, and still standing reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a cutting from a newspaper which he unfolded and placed on the table for Bradfield to see.

      ‘This morning’s paper describes my daughter as a drug addict and prostitute. Why did you tell them that, Mr Bradfield?’ he asked calmly, but with a look of hurt in his eyes.

      Bradfield scanned the article. ‘I can assure you, Mr Collins, that I said nothing of the sort to the newspapers.’ Collins took a deep breath. ‘My wife is beside herself.

      She’s inconsolable and feels ashamed.’

      ‘I would very much doubt that it was one of my officers who spoke to the press. It’s possible the leak may have come from one of the mortuary staff and I will investigate the matter, Mr Collins.’ He refolded the article and held it up. Collins shook his head, so Bradfield threw the cutting in the bin and asked him to sit down, which he did.

      ‘Have you charged the man you arrested with the murder of my daughter?’ Collins asked nervously.

      ‘Not as yet, and it’s looking more likely that he may not be the person responsible.’

      ‘But he must know something if you arrested him, so why aren’t you—’

      ‘We are doing everything possible to find Julie Ann’s killer, Mr Collins. I can assure you we are following up on some leads that we hope will be very productive . . . However, there are also a few questions of a delicate nature I need to ask you.’

      ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’

      ‘Firstly, and regrettably, I have to inform you that Julie Ann was twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant at the time of her death.’

      Bradfield paused to let a shocked-looking Mr Collins digest the information. Jane was struck once again by how gentle Bradfield’s manner was, but she felt deeply sorry for Mr Collins, who was struggling to speak.

      ‘How can you be sure . . .? Could it be some kind of mistake?’

      ‘I won’t go into specifics, but suffice to say the pathologist has confirmed it, Mr Collins, and I am sorry but I have to ask if you and your wife were already privy to this information?’

      ‘Dear God no. If Julie had told us we would have done everything possible to make her come home.’

      ‘Did she make contact with you when she was upset or in any kind of trouble?’

      ‘The first few times she ran away – once or twice. My wife and I begged her to come home, but she’d accuse us of trying to control her life. We just wanted to get her away from the drug dealers and addicts.’

      ‘That’s totally understandable, and you and Mrs Collins must have been under immense stress. Do you know who any of her dealers or drug-addict friends may have been?’

      ‘No, but believe you me if I did I’d swing for them.’

      It suddenly occurred to Jane that behind Bradfield’s soft tone and calm manner there was an underlying purpose to his line of questioning, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

      ‘I understand that you cared for your daughter deeply, but may I ask why you stopped reporting her missing?’

      ‘I have already explained this – she kept running away from home and your lot got fed up with us and Julie, so there was no point in reporting it any more. One officer virtually accused us of being terrible parents who had spoilt our daughter. We loved her and thought she loved us, but it seems she came to love drugs more.’ He was pressing his bony hands together and twisting them round in agitation.

      ‘Did you look for her yourself?’

      Jane 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

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