‘You refused a solicitor when DS Gibbs asked if you wanted one so don’t even think about changing your mind or I’ll write your confession myself.’
Bradfield opened his desk drawer and put a plastic property bag containing bundles of bank-wrapped £1, £5 and £10 notes on the table. When asked Boyle admitted they were some of the notes recovered from his home and said that he’d stolen them from a pensioner.
‘Well, Kenny, I’ve had the notes checked for the murdered girl’s fingerprints, and guess what – they’re on some of them. One print is right next to yours. So if you know what’s good for you I suggest you tell me exactly how they came to be in your possession?’
Boyle refused to look at Bradfield and shuffled his feet.
‘Erm yeah, I did meet her and she give me the money, right? She told me to get her some heroin, I mean what I said was I could score for her, right?’
‘Right! So who’s your dealer, Kenneth?’
‘Er well, I dunno his name, but I seen him passing gear on the streets, right? I mean I dunno where he lives, that’s the God’s truth, sir.’
Kath crossed her legs as she watched the repellent Boyle attempt to lie his way out of anything to do with the murder. Bradfield concentrated on his notebook, tapping it with his pencil.
‘I mean on my mother’s life, the last time I saw her was after she give me the money. She said to meet up with her outside the hospital, well, I couldn’t find this dealer so I went to tell her and she never showed up.’
Bradfield nodded his head and then picked up a pencil sharpener and began to twist his pencil round and round in it.
Kath was fascinated by how Bradfield deliberately changed his attitude towards Boyle, making it appear he believed him, encouraging him by accepting his story, and constantly nodding his head saying he understood how difficult it would be for Boyle to name his dealers.
‘Right, that’s right, but I swear before God that’s what I intended doing, scoring drugs for her.’
‘Yeah, I understand. I mean she was just a common little slag. She’d open her legs for drugs, right?’
‘Yeah, she fucked anyone, even the blacks. She was a tart all right.’
Bradfield paused then spoke quietly. ‘But she wouldn’t screw you, would she?’ he asked without any trace of emotion.
It was as if Bradfield had hit a raw nerve as Boyle pursed his lips.
‘Yeah, I mean she was a slag, right? And she got this posh way of talkin’, lookin’ down on me.’
‘That must have really pissed you off.’
Boyle nodded, and then Bradfield slowly pushed the photograph of Julie Ann closer.
‘She deserved what she got.’
Kath watched as there was a glance between Bradfield and Gibbs, who had so far not spoken. Gibbs now leaned forwards, jabbing Boyle with his finger.
‘She’d fuck anyone else but you, because you are a stinking little no-good thief. She told you to piss off, you got riled and decided you were gonna show this slag that nobody like her could refuse you and you made a grab for her… ’
Bradfield patted Gibbs’s arm and he sat back. ‘Easy, Spence, that wasn’t how it happened, was it, Kenneth? Yes, you put your hands up for nicking from pensioners, and you owned up to the Magistrate. But this was different: she was lovely and you knew what she was, but that didn’t matter, did it?’
‘I don’t go out with toms,’ Boyle said, shaking his head.
‘Oh come on, Kenneth, you liked her – and you’d got money now, all that cash you nicked. Did you offer to pay her?’ Bradfield asked, and moved Julie Ann’s photograph closer.
Gibbs leaned forwards again. ‘Shit, you were gonna pay to screw her and she still turned you down? That must have fucked your head, cos you knew she was a slag, knew everyone else was getting it.’
‘No.’ Boyle‘s face twisted.
Bradfield slid in his next question. ‘When did you know about the money she had? I don’t believe she’d give you cash for drugs as she already had her own dealer.’
Boyle was so thick he couldn’t see how Bradfield and Gibbs were playing with his head and there was a hideous pause as Boyle stared at the floor and constantly scratched his raw acne.
He wouldn’t look up. ‘She dropped her purse and-’
‘Oh I see, she dropped her purse and you picked it up?’
Gibbs cut in. ‘You ripped her blouse open and pulled off her bra so you could fondle her tits, but she resisted and you went ape and strangled her with her own bra.’
Still Boyle said nothing, but from the look of self-pity on his face Bradfield knew he and Spencer Gibbs had got it right about what happened in the kids’ adventure playground. Gibbs replaced the picture of Julie Ann before she started taking drugs with the one of her body at the playground.
‘That’s what you did to her, you murdered her and then stole her money. Look at the photograph, see her eyes and tongue? Remember them bulging out as you squeezed the life out of her, can you? LOOK AT IT!’ he shouted.
Boyle swiped at the table, and the photographs slid onto the floor as he started crying.
