Mr Collins nodded. Bradfield tipped his head at Jane to indicate that she should accompany Mr Collins. She followed him to the kitchen; the dog was asleep in a scruffy old basket. Mr Collins pulled out a drawer that was crammed full of receipts.
‘It’s the odds-and-ends drawer so I may have put it in here.’ He tipped the contents out onto the kitchen table, seeming much calmer now that he’d confessed.
Bradfield walked slowly up the stairs and could see that DS Lawrence had unscrewed the box-room door from its hinges to take back to the lab for further examination. He asked Lawrence if he or the detectives searching Julie Ann’s room had found a rucksack or anything else of interest.
Lawrence held up a small quilted shoulder bag with worn cotton and velvet patchwork squares, on which some of the stitching had come loose.
‘This is a typical hippie-style bag and was hidden under the mattress in the box room. There’s a sort of concealed side bit in it, a bag within a bag, containing some drugs paraphernalia and other stuff. I’ll log everything back at the station and take anything useful for examination at the lab.’
He handed it to Bradfield who glanced inside and saw an unopened clean syringe, matches, used spoon with burn marks and a rubber tourniquet for tying round the arm when injecting. There was also a small empty plastic bag with tiny traces of white powder left in it.
‘Looks like she forgot this in her hurry to get out of the house,’ Bradfield said, and nodded towards the master bedroom. ‘Mrs Collins stirred yet?’
‘No, and we still need to look in there,’ Lawrence replied.
‘I’ll get her downstairs and then you can have a discreet look round without her knowing,’ Bradfield said, and checked his watch. He told his two detectives they could go back to the Regent’s Canal to search for any witnesses to the Eddie Phillips incident.
‘Are you arresting Mr Collins?’ Lawrence asked, but Bradfield didn’t answer as he walked towards the master bedroom.
He tapped on the bedroom door and waited. He tapped again and slowly opened the door to peer into the room. The curtains were closed and Mrs Collins was wearing a sleeping mask with the plum-coloured eiderdown pulled up to her chin. He moved quietly across the room towards her and noticed the photographs of Julie Ann on the bedside table. There were more photographs of her at various ages along the dressing table and on the chest of drawers. One photograph showed her in a tutu and ballet shoes, her tiny hands holding the edge of the net skirt. It was almost incomprehensible that this sweet angelic child, with beautiful eyes and a small Cupid’s bow mouth, had become the ravished junkie they’d found strangled on the playground nudging one of the roughest estates in Hackney.
He went over to the curtains, swishing them back. Mrs Collins remained asleep so he nudged the bed with his knee, but there was still no response. He turned as Jane walked in and handed him the list of serial numbers which Mr Collins had found.
Bradfield looked at Mrs Collins and whispered, ‘It’s like she’s in a coma. I’ve opened the curtains and nudged the bed. You’d better wake her as I don’t want to give her a heart attack. Just verify exactly when she went to her sister’s and when the neighbours came for dinner.’
‘She’s probably exhausted after the memorial service. Should I tell her about her husband’s confession?’
‘No, that’s up to him. Besides, it will come out in the long run.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.
He paused at the bedroom door.
‘About what?’
‘Mr Collins – are you arresting him?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t condone what he did to his daughter, but he’s suffered enough with her death and he and his wife need each other right now.’
Jane was touched by Bradfield’s compassion. She looked round the room and wondered if the many pictures of Julie Ann had in some small way influenced his decision not to arrest George Collins.
Jane leant over the bed. ‘Mrs Collins… MRS COLLINS.’ She gently nudged Mrs Collins’ shoulder.
When she’d finally awoken, Mrs Collins confirmed everything her husband had said about her being in Weybridge on the Thursday and the neighbours coming for dinner. She was understandably concerned as to why the police were at the house so soon after the memorial service and Jane said they were just following up on some information and that her husband would tell her all about it. The reality was that Jane didn’t have a clue what George Collins would say to his wife or how he’d explain the missing box-room door, but that wasn’t her problem.
As she left the bedroom she saw DS Lawrence in the hallway.
‘I hear you impressed Dr Harker with your knowledge on fibre transfers – he said you were the only one in the class who thought of it. Now, I wonder where you got that from?’ he said with a cheeky grin.
Jane blushed; it hadn’t crossed her mind that Harker and Lawrence might actually work together.
