Peter Robinson - Aftermath

“Was he still moving then?”

“Not very much. He was sort of twitching and breathing heavily. There was blood on his mouth.”

“Final question, Janet: Did you hit him again after he went down?”

Her eyebrows shot together in fear. “No. I don’t think so.”

“What did you do?”

“I handcuffed him to the pipe.”

“And then?”

“Then I went to help Dennis.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit him again after he went down? Just to make sure?”

Janet looked away. “I told you. I don’t think so. Why would I?”

Annie leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. “ Try to remember, Janet.”

But Janet shook her head. “It’s no good. I don’t remember.”

“Okay,” said Annie, getting to her feet. “Interview over.” She pushed a statement sheet and a pen in front of Janet. “Write out what you’ve told me in as much detail as you can remember.”

Janet grasped the pen. “What happens next?”

“When you’ve finished, love, go home and have a stiff drink. Hell, have two.”

Janet managed a weak but genuine smile as Annie left and shut the door behind her.

DCs Bowmore and Singh looked shifty when they walked into Banks’s temporary Millgarth office, as well they might, he thought.

“Sit down,” he said.

They sat. “What is it, sir?” asked DC Singh, attempting lightness. “Got a job for us?”

Banks leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “If you call sharpening pencils and emptying the wastepaper baskets a job.”

Their jaws dropped. “Sir-” Bowmore began, but Banks held his hand up.

“A car number plate ending in KWT. Ring any bells?”

“Sir?”

“KWT. Kathryn Wendy Thurlow.”

“Yes, sir,” said Singh. “It’s the number Bradford CID got in the Samantha Foster investigation.”

“Bingo,” said Banks. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Bradford send us copies of all their files on the Samantha Foster case when this team was set up?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Including the name of everyone in the area who owned a dark car with the number plate ending in KWT.”

“Over a thousand, sir.”

“Over a thousand. Indeed. Bradford CID interviewed them all. And guess who’s among that thousand.”

“Terence Payne, sir,” answered Singh again.

“Bright lad,” said Banks. “Now, when Bradford CID were working on that case, did they have any links to any similar crimes?”

“No, sir,” answered Bowmore this time. “There was the girl went missing from the New Year’s party in Roundhay Park, but there was no reason to link them together at the time.”

“Right,” said Banks. “So why do you think I issued an action shortly after this task force was set up to go over all the evidence on the previous cases, including the disappearance of Samantha Foster?”

“Because you thought there was a link, sir,” said DC Singh.

“Not just me,” said Banks. “But, yes, three girls, as it was then. Then four. Then five. The possibility of a link was becoming stronger and stronger. Now guess who was assigned to go over the evidence in the Samantha Foster case.”

Singh and Bowmore looked at each other, then frowned and looked at Banks. “We were, sir,” they said as one.

“Including reinterviewing the list of car owners Bradford CID got from the DVLA.”

“Over a thousand, sir.”

“Indeed,” said Banks, “but am I correct in assuming that you had plenty of help, that the action was split up and that the letter P was among those alphabetically assigned to you? Because that’s what it says in my files. P for Payne.”

“There were still a lot to go, sir. We haven’t got around to them all yet.”

“You haven’t got around to them yet? This was at the beginning of April. Over a month ago. You’ve been dragging your feet a bit, haven’t you?”

“It’s not as if it was the only action assigned us, sir,” said Bowmore.

“Look,” said Banks, “I don’t want any excuses. For one reason or another, you failed to reinterview Terence Payne.”

“But it wouldn’t have made any difference, sir,” Bowmore argued. “I mean, Bradford CID didn’t exactly mark him down as their number one suspect, did they? What was he going to tell us that he didn’t tell them? He wasn’t going to decide to confess just because we went to talk to him, was he?”

Banks ran his hand over his hair and muttered a silent curse. He was not a natural authoritarian – far from it – and he hated this part of the job, dishing out bollockings, having been on the receiving end of plenty himself, but if anyone ever did, these two prize pillocks deserved the worst he could give. “Is this supposed to be an example of you using your initiative?” he said. “Because if it is, you’d have been better advised to stick to procedure and follow orders.”

“But, sir,” Singh said, “he was a schoolteacher. Newly married. Nice house. We did read over all the statements.”

“I’m sorry,” said Banks, shaking his head. “Am I missing something here?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Well, I’m not aware that Dr. Fuller had given us any sort of profile of the person we were looking for at this point.”

DC Singh grinned. “Hasn’t given us much of anything when you get right down to it, has she, sir?”

“So what made you think you could rule out a recently married schoolteacher with a nice house?”

Singh’s jaw opened and shut like a fish mouth. Bowmore looked down at his shoes.

“Well?” Banks repeated. “I’m waiting.”

“Look, sir,” said Singh, “I’m sorry, but we just hadn’t got around to him yet.”

“Have you talked to any of the people on your list?”

“A couple, sir,” muttered Singh. “The ones Bradford CID had marked down as possibles. There was one bloke had a previous for flashing, but he had a solid alibi for Leanne Wray and Melissa Horrocks. We checked that out, sir.”

“So when you’d nothing better to do, you’d fill in a bit of overtime by ticking a name or two off the list, names that Bradford CID had put question marks beside. Is that it?”

“That’s not fair, sir,” Bowmore argued.

“Not fair. I’ll tell you what’s not bloody fair, DC Bowmore. It’s not bloody fair that at least five girls that we know of so far have most likely died at the hands of Terence Payne. That’s what’s not fair.”

“But he wouldn’t have admitted it to us, sir,” Singh protested.

“You’re supposed to be detectives, aren’t you? Look, let me put it simply. If you’d gone around to Payne’s house when you were supposed to, say last month, then one or two more girls might not have died.”

“You can’t put that down to us, sir,” Bowmore protested, red in the face. “That’s just not on.”

“Oh, isn’t it? What if you’d seen or heard something suspicious while you were in the house interviewing him? What if your finely developed detective’s instinct had picked up on something and you’d asked to have a look around?”

“Bradford CID didn’t-”

“I don’t give a damn what Bradford CID did or didn’t do. They were examining a single case: the disappearance of Samantha Foster. You, on the other hand, were investing a case of serial abductions. If you’d had any reason at all to look in the cellar you’d have had him, believe me. Even if you’d poked around his video collection it might have raised your suspicions. If you’d looked at his car, you’d have noticed the false plates. The ones he’s using now end in NGV, not KWT. That might have rung a few alarm bells, don’t you think? Instead you decide on your own that this action isn’t worth rushing on. God knows what else you thought was so much more important. Well?”