Cath Staincliffe - Make Believe

‘No!’ Breeley was shouting, ‘You don’t go near my van.’ Breeley tried to grab Richard, pull him back but Richard, the bigger man shrugged him off.

‘No. Leave it!’

Richard reached the van and glanced in, turned back. ‘Here all along, one lens broken.’

‘It’s nothing!’ Breeley shouted, ‘Just a pair of specs.’

Richard pulled handcuffs out and moved quickly to Breeley. Began the caution, ‘Joseph Breeley, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything…’

Mandy, her mouth open, was shaking her head. Then she began to shout, ‘Leave him alone, get off him, he hasn’t done anything. Leave him.’ The baby was crying and Janine steered them back towards the house. ‘Leave him alone,’ Mandy shouted, ‘where are you taking him?’

‘He’ll be at City Central Police Station while he helps us with our inquiries,’ Janine said. ‘We may wish to speak to you in due course.’

‘I can’t,’ Mandy said, ‘the kids… what about the kids?’

‘If necessary we can provide temporary child care while we speak to you if you can’t find anyone yourself.’

‘He didn’t… he couldn’t…’ she broke down.

Denying everything. Had she suspected her husband of such a crime? She had given him the alibi for the Saturday morning. Maybe that was genuine. The child could have been placed there another day, though that didn’t account for the noise of the van heard so early in the day.

Or maybe Mandy Breeley suspected her husband but wouldn’t admit it to herself. Shut down the whispers in her head, made light of the worry gnawing away inside. Wanted to believe him innocent. To believe he was a good man, a decent man. Not think that the father of her children murdered another child.

While Joe Breeley was booked in and a solicitor was arranged, Janine and Richard prepared the interview, going over all the facts, the evidence they had and the contradictions in what Breeley had told them so far.

Janine had sent CSIs to recover the van. In the lab, Joe Breeley’s glasses prescription was being compared to the broken lens found close to the manhole, and an examination was underway to see if the glasses screw fit the frames. In the custody suite, Breeley was being processed, having his fingerprints taken, giving a DNA sample and a hair from his head. The lab would look at the hair to see if it resembled the one recovered from inside the sheet. A DNA profile would establish if they came from the same person.

Once word came back positive on the screw and the lens prescription, Janine felt a wash of relief and the kick of excitement. Finally, finally they were getting closer, things were adding up. Still a lot of blanks to fill in but if they could just get Joe Breeley talking.

His solicitor was a whey faced woman with greasy hair. Thankfully she had not advised her client to offer no comment, perhaps because of the seriousness of the crime. She sat next to Breeley and opposite Richard and Janine in the interview room.

‘What can you tell me about the body of a child recovered from Kendal Avenue on the twenty-eighth of April?’ Janine said to Breeley.

‘Nothing. I don’t know anything about it, I swear,’ he said.

‘How do you account for the fact that a screw of the same type to that missing from your glasses was found in the sheet wrapped around the child’s body?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You told us before that the manhole cover had been closed and that you had no need to access the drainage tunnel. So how come your glasses screw ends up in the drain, inside the sheet covering the child.’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking away.

Janine could see a pulse ticking fast at the side of his neck.

‘We have a witness who heard your vehicle arriving at the address at six-fifteen on the morning of the nineteenth of April,’ Richard said.

The solicitor interrupted, ‘Is this witness able to distinguish individual vehicles by the sound of their engines?’

Janine knew it was a fair point.

‘A diesel engine, a sound the neighbours had become familiar with over the course of the weeks you were working there,’ Richard said.

‘I was at home then,’ Breeley said.

‘I don’t think that’s the case. When did you break your glasses?’ Richard said.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Where did it happen?’ Richard said.

‘Not at work,’ he replied.

‘The screw must have worked loose, dropped onto the sheet. Later, as you were moving the body, your lens fell out and broke,’ said Richard.

‘It’s not mine,’ Joe Breeley said. He rubbed his jaw.

‘We can identify the prescription from the fragments. It matches yours,’ Richard said.

‘You’re bound to find traces of me all over the shop. I worked there,’ Joe Breeley said.

‘But you have just told us that you didn’t break your glasses at work. I’m confused,’ Janine said.

‘You went to work early, in the van,’ Richard said, ‘you put the little boy there, left. Came back at nine. What happened, Joe?’

He refused to answer.

‘How did particles of glass that match your missing lens come to be on the driveway at Kendal Avenue?’ Richard said.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ Temper or desperation edged his reply.

‘We’ve taken a DNA sample from you along with hair from your head. Will we find that matches material recovered from the victim?’

Breeley stilled though Janine was not sure why but then he recovered. Had he remembered something incriminating? She decided to push this topic a bit further.

‘Anything like that could have come from the house,’ he said, ‘we use the basin, the toilet.’

‘And how might that have got inside the sheet? Or onto the child’s body?’ she said.

He swallowed, closed his eyes momentarily. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Let’s back up a little. Friday afternoon, the eighteenth of April. You left early?’ Janine said.

‘Yeah, Mandy was going shopping. I had the kids.’

‘She didn’t take them?’ Janine said.

‘No – John’s got the chickenpox,’ he said.

‘So Mandy went shopping, she came back when?’

‘She was late – the car broke down. Be going on five when she got back.’

‘And that evening where were you?’ Janine said.

‘Just in the house,’ Breeley said.

‘Neither of you went out?’ Janine said.

‘No, honestly. Ask Mandy. She’ll tell you,’ he said.

‘Oh, we will,’ Janine said, ‘I promise you that. Saturday morning what time did you leave home?’

‘Nine o’clock, like I said.’

Joe Breeley maintained his story, refusing to be drawn, then there was a knock at the door. Richard suspended the interview, paused the tape and went to answer it.

He came back into the room and nodded to Janine. It must be something important.

‘We’ll take a break now, half an hour,’ she said to the solicitor.

‘You’re keeping me here?’ Joe Breeley said.

‘For as long as it takes,’ Janine replied.

‘Millie’s found something in Breeley’s background,’ Richard said in the corridor once Breeley had been escorted to a cell.

‘Where is she?’

‘Incident room.’

Millie held a sheaf of printouts. She handed Janine the top one. Janine scanned the headline. Tot’s Death Inquest . She checked the date, 12th February 1991. Janine started to read, The county coroner opened an inquest yesterday into the death of Gary Breeley (3) who died at the family home in October 1990.

‘Fractured skull,’ said Millie. ‘Joe Breeley had a little brother, Gary. Joe was looking after him when Gary died. He fell down some steps, fractured his skull. They ruled accidental death, though there were rumours.’