Lynda La Plante - Backlash

‘He’s through, Detective Travis.’

‘Thank you. Mr Zacks, I don’t know if you remember me – I came to your flat to ask you some questions about Henry Oates.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I am really grateful that you have agreed to talk to me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You mentioned to me that you ran a business supplying doormen to a number of clubs in London.’

‘Not any more.’

‘But you did, and you had a very successful business.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You started off in the East End, is that right?’

‘Yeah, Mile End Road, near the boxing club.’

‘Do you recall the names of any of the men you employed?’

‘It’s not exactly employed – I give ’em the job and they give me a cut; it wasn’t like I employed them back then, if you know what I mean, and I didn’t have no contracts, it was verbal with me.’

‘Yes, I understand, it’s just very important if you could remember any of the men that worked for you and I realize it is a long time ago, but perhaps they were ex-boxers…’

‘Yeah.’

‘I am talking nearly five years ago, so it might be a test of your memory.’

‘You don’t say. What’s in this for me anyway?’

Anna licked her lips and decided to test Zacks’ empathy.

‘You remember me showing you a picture of a little girl that was missing? Well, if you could remember – you have children of your own and…’

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s to do with Henry Oates, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well I only used him the once and he was no use, didn’t have a suit either, but it wasn’t in Mile End, that was over in Kilburn.’

‘So do you remember anyone working for you in Mile End?’

There was a pause and she could hear his heavy breathing.

‘Yeah, okay, Brian Heigh, middleweight, good bloke.’

She waited; he was clicking his tongue against his teeth.

‘Tony Jackson, he used to be there, but I don’t remember nobody else. Wait a minute, there was one of the guys I knew from York Hall, he worked there a few times, shit, can’t remember his name.’

‘Describe him to me.’

Ira exhaled and said she was asking a lot and then without hesitation he said, ‘Of course, it was Tim Bradford, there you go, shows my grey cells are still working, nice fighter, but bled like a stuck pig. I remember him now, lived up the road in Bromley-by-Bow, but he didn’t do more than a few months.’

Anna’s hand was shaking as she replaced the phone, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she could write down the information. Then she made her way to the interview room, tapped on the door and opened it. ‘DCI Travis with a message for DCS Langton,’ she said for the benefit of the tape. Langton came out, closing the door behind him.

‘I tried the softly-softly and he still won’t give it up.’

‘Try this.’

Anna explained to him about the Mile End connection, and her idea that the night Angela Thornton had disappeared, Bradford could have been working the doors on the club. He had lived just up the road from there and had never been questioned about her disappearance as they had CCTV footage of her leaving the club and heading for the Tube station. Anna had also checked with the DVLA to confirm that at that time Bradford owned a car. It was a red Ford Fiesta and a witness had claimed to have seen a red car parked close to the Tube station, although the car and driver had never been traced. Langton folded the notes and gave a brief nod of his head, but he took a few moments before he returned to the interview room.

Anna sat in the viewing room, watching as Langton took his seat, intrigued as to how he would handle the new information. First he set aside the files he had been using before the interruption. He then stacked them onto the trolley. He next removed the Angela Thornton file and the exhibit bag with her bracelet, setting them in front of him. He took out his fountain pen, drew his notebook close, wrote something and then replaced the cap.

Bradford looked at his solicitor then back to Langton. Meanwhile, Mike had been given Anna’s latest findings, which he read before returning them to Langton.

‘My client has been in custody since midday and it is now 7.30 p.m.,’ the solicitor pointed out. ‘If you have no further questions to put to him and are not charging him with any offence then I suggest-’

Langton ignored her and cut in.

‘Tell me about the time you worked on the Mile End Road, Mr Bradford.’

Bradford’s mouth dropped open.

‘What is this in reference to?’ his solicitor asked.

Langton held up the photograph of Angela Thornton.

‘The murder of this girl, Miss Adams.’ He turned to Bradford. ‘What happened, Tim, you see her dancing around, having a night out with her friends, too good for the likes of you, you try and get a date, did you? She turn you down, did she? Look at her, LOOK AT HER!’ He slapped the photograph down on the table. ‘Just a washed-up amateur boxer, only jobs you could get were working the doors, and there was this lovely girl, shiny blonde hair, blue eyes, and this lovely bracelet – was it that you were after? Did you want to nick her gold bracelet? You’d never be able to afford anything as nice as this to give to a girl. You were still dependent on your mother and stepfather; he didn’t like you, did he? Reckoned you were a big free-loader…’

As Langton talked it was like watching a tight spring begin to uncoil. Bradford was squirming in his seat, his fists clenched one minute, the next pressing down on his thighs. His body twisted, and he kept moving his head from side to side as if his neck was stiffening up.

‘Can I give you a lift, love, can I give you a lift in my red Ford Fiesta?’ Langton adopted a singsong voice, smiling. ‘You can trust me, love, I work the doors, I protect people, I don’t let in the tough guys, I look out for the customers, you can trust me, get in the car, I can take you home…’

Langton stopped smiling as he leaned across the table and raised his voice.

‘But you didn’t take her home, did you? DID YOU? How did you break her little gold bracelet? Grab her by the wrists, did you? Smack her around, did you? Punch out this lovely little girl, look at her face, look at her face, Timmy.’

‘I want to speak with my solicitor,’ Bradford said softly.

‘You do that and I hope she advises you that it would be in your best interests to tell us the truth about everything!’ Langton shouted.

Anna thought that Langton was going to reach over and grab Bradford by the hair and shove his face down onto the table. But before he could launch into another likely scenario of what might have happened that fatal evening, Bradford began to punch his own chest. His fists smacked hard into his flesh, ape-like, but far from an animal show of superiority, it was a pitiful show, his last fight, before he broke down and the floodgates opened.

The following morning the team gathered in the incident room at 9 a.m. for an update briefing from Mike Lewis and Anna about the previous day’s interviews and interesting developments concerning Timmy Brad ford working at the nightclub in the Mile End Road. The same club that Angela Thornton had been to the night she was believed to have been abducted and murdered. Langton stayed in Mike’s office, listening to the recorded interviews they had already had with Bradford and preparing for the further interview with him that was to take place after the briefing.

The interview of Timmy Bradford, again with his solicitor Mary Adams present, started at just after 10 a.m. Anna, Barbara and Joan were all in the viewing room, eager to see if Langton would finally get Timmy Bradford to tell the truth and confess to his involvement in Angela and his mother’s deaths, but more importantly if he would reveal Oates’s involvement in the crimes.