Backlash (48 page)

‘Nae, we’ve all been asked about her, but she never told nobody – she did a runner when we was supposed tae be workin’.’

‘You are being really helpful, and just one more thing: can you recall any of her clothes, what she might have been wearing?’

‘Nae, we hadda wear smocks cos we was doin’ the kitchen cleanin’; she could’ve worn somethin’ under the smock, but she wasnae wearin’ them then or I’d
have noticed cos they were mine.’

‘What did she take of yours, Morag?’

‘Ma patent leather boots.’

‘Could you describe them to me? And maybe give me a better idea of what Corinna looked like?’

Anna spent a few more moments talking to Morag about Corinna. Eventually the young woman grew less suspicious and told Anna what she needed to know. Anna thanked her profusely for her help
before hanging up. There was no way she could do anything about the information until morning, but it was another connection and one that might be another piece of the jigsaw.

Professor Hall, for all his pomposity, had evidently pulled out all the stops, as the following morning they received the official post mortem report on Mrs Douglas. Neither
Anna nor Langton was at the station when it arrived, making Mike even more impatient than usual.

‘Where is she? We’re bringing in Timmy Bradford!’

Joan called her mobile, but it was turned off.

‘She’s not answering.’

‘It’s bloody ten-thirty, for God’s sake – what does she think she’s playing at!’

Barbara whispered aside to Joan that perhaps she was solving the case, but shut up quickly as Mike turned on her.

‘What did you say?’

‘Just had a call from Barolli, guv, wanting to know if we’ve solved the case, we’ve been giving him an update,’ Barbara improvised swiftly.

‘Good, how’s he doing?’

‘Oh he’s fine, up and out of bed and—’

Mike didn’t wait to hear any more as Langton walked in, signalling for Mike to join him in his office, which he treated like his own.

‘Barbara spoke with Paul Barolli earlier. He’s doing well and has managed to get out of bed,’ Mike informed Langton.

‘That’s good news,’ Langton replied.

‘Yeah well, the bad news is I can’t track Travis down and her mobile is turned off.’

‘She called me and said she was going to the NatWest at New Malden to speak with the bank manager and then coming back here,’ Langton informed Mike.

‘Doesn’t she want to speak to me?’ Mike asked.

‘She knows how busy you are so she asked me to tell you, which I just have. Now what’s happening with Timmy Bradford?’

‘He’s been at a bed and breakfast until we’ve cleared all the forensic work at his flat; he was allowed back to get some clothes,’ Mike told him.

‘How’s he holding up?’

‘Seems fine, asked about when he could arrange a funeral for his mother. Did you see the post mortem report?’

Langton hadn’t, so Mike showed him a copy, which he read at once, and then let it drop onto the desk.

‘Shit, a bloody heart attack!’

‘But it could have been caused by fear – there are bruises to her head and chest. She was hung up by the cord after she was dead.’

Langton wafted his hand.

‘Okay, let’s go over how we handle the interview.’

‘What about Travis?’

Langton gave him a direct look.

‘Your enquiry, Mike, never mind what she’s doing.’ He tapped the report with his finger and suggested they interview Bradford as a witness first before arresting him and having
a solicitor present.

Anna’s immediate task that day had been to visit the bank manager, who told her that Bradford had called the bank twice a couple of days before he came in to collect the
money. The original calls were taken by a cashier; Bradford had enquired about what he would have to do to withdraw money on his mother’s behalf and his mother, Mrs Douglas, had even spoken
with the cashier, giving her password and approving withdrawal by her son. The call on the day he picked up the money was, as Anna already knew, thanks to the wiretap, to arrange for the time of
collection.

Anna’s next stop was to see Pete Jenkins. He was, as she had requested, examining the pair of patent leather knee-high boots. The size and description fitted the ones
mentioned by Morag Kelly; they were also in good condition unlike the other shoes found at the basement. Anna asked for them to be bagged up.

‘What about the DNA test? Did you get anything for me?’

Pete nodded and they headed into the lab. She was buzzing, her adrenalin pumping, and she couldn’t resist asking him for the result.

‘Am I right?’

‘Aren’t you always?’

‘Is that a yes, Pete, is that a YES?’

‘Not quite yet, the hair was too degraded to get a full DNA result, but I did get a mitochondrial DNA profile, which is inherited from the mother’s side. I’ll need a sample
from the mother to make the comparison and access to the Scottish DNA database.’

‘Leave it with me, and thanks, Pete.’

Anna rang Glasgow on her drive back to the station, asking to speak to DCI McBride, who came onto the phone with obvious irritation. She thanked him for helping her trace Morag Kelly, but she
now needed another favour, and one that was connected to Eileen Oates. When she explained the importance of it, he agreed to set the wheels in motion.

Just after twelve-fifteen, Timmy Bradford was brought to the station in a patrol car. He was a little over-bright, joking about how he hoped none of his friends saw him as
they’d think he’d been arrested. He was led into the interview-room corridor and asked if he would like coffee or a tea, but he said he’d stick to water as he didn’t drink
either. When he was shown into the room, Langton and Mike were sitting side by side waiting.

‘Morning, Mr Bradford,’ Langton said, smiling.

‘Morning.’

Bradford took a seat opposite them.

‘Thank you for agreeing to come in to see us, we just need to clear up a few things. You can have a solicitor present, if you want.’

‘Why should I want a solicitor – am I under arrest?’

‘No. Just standard procedure to ask in cases like this.’

‘I don’t want one.’

Langton rested his elbows on the table and waited.

‘Listen, I come in because it’s about that ten grand belonging to my mother. By rights that money is mine, right? So I’m here and I’d like to know when I can get it back,
cos I’ve got to arrange and pay for her funeral. I mean, everyone’s been very nice to me, I’ll give you all that, but I have things I’ve got to organize, understand
me?’

‘Do you go to the dog tracks on a regular basis?’ Mike asked.

Bradford nodded but seemed surprised by Mike’s sudden line of questioning.

‘Yeah I do, dogs, horses, I like a flutter.’

‘On the night you say Henry Oates broke into your flat . . .’

‘Me mother let him in.’

‘Sorry, yes of course, you have said that the reason you weren’t at home until midnight was because you were at Wimbledon dog track,’ Mike reminded him.

‘Yeah, I’m a regular there, why? It’s the truth.’

‘Back a few winners, did you?’

‘No, I was on a real losing streak, tearing up the betting slips all night, not one winner.’

Langton tapped the table twice with his pen and took over the questioning.

‘You’re definitely on a losing streak, Mr Bradford, a very big one, because on that specific night the track was closed for refurbishment,’ Langton remarked.

Bradford blinked and then gave a half smile, unsure of who would ask the next question.

‘No way.’

‘Let’s not mess around any longer, because you are very close to being arrested on suspicion of assisting an escaped murderer.’

Bradford opened and closed his mouth.

‘I don’t understand what’s going on here.’

Langton began opening a file in front of him.

‘Why you got me here? I thought it was about me money.’

‘Is it about the money, Mr Bradford? We know you were in touch with the NatWest Bank in New Malden before Mr Oates came to your mother’s flat.’

‘This isn’t right.’

‘So do you agree that before Mr Oates stayed at your flat you had already arranged—’

‘Listen, my mother wanted me to get ten grand out so we could go on a luxury cruise, that’s why I was doing all the arrangements, and it just coincided with Oates turning
up.’

Langton leaned back in his chair, smiling.

‘You are a very good actor, Mr Bradford, in fact so good I think you could have taken it up as a profession, but right now I am getting very tired of this performance. I believed you and
Detective Chief Inspector Lewis here also believed you, that big act in the Kingston Lodge Hotel about how fearful you were for your mother – that was, I suppose, partly due to nerves. I
mean, you didn’t expect to get picked up, did you? But then you played it to the hilt, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?’

Langton slapped the table so hard the water bottles jumped.

‘She was already dead, wasn’t she? WASN’T SHE? All that bullshit about Oates threatening to hang her – what’s the matter with you? You think we’re so dumb we
can’t get a time of death for her? That we can’t get evidence that she was never hanged? Strung up, yes, but she was already dead, wasn’t she?’

‘I want a solicitor.’ Bradford kept his head down.

‘Well now that I’m arresting you for not only harbouring Oates, but also on suspicion of being complicit in your mother’s murder, you can have one.’

Mike Lewis then cautioned Bradford and took him to the custody area to be booked in and the duty solicitor Mary Adams was called to represent him.

Anna went into the viewing room to watch as soon as she got back to the station. Barbara got up to leave as Anna sat down.

‘No, stay put, I need you to fill me in on what’s happened to date.’

‘Well, he’s denying that he had anything to do with his mother’s death, he’s admitted lying about going to the dog track, but he said he was forced to do it because Oates
had tied his mother up and threatened him. He’s also said that his mother had asked him to withdraw ten thousand in cash to pay for a cruise and she had signed the necessary papers. He claims
Oates found them and then threatened to kill his mother if he didn’t withdraw the lot and give it to him.’

Anna looked at the monitor screen as Langton suggested that they now go from the beginning again as Bradford was plainly lying.

‘I’m telling you the truth.’

‘Really? Then how do you explain that your mother was already dead before Oates had even escaped from the quarry?’

Anna sipped her coffee, watching Bradford’s reaction, which did not give much away. He was drinking from a bottle of water, then turning the cap this way and that.

‘What’s he got on you?’ Langton asked.

‘Who?’

‘Henry Oates. What’s he got on you to make you hide him and then get the money out?’

Bradford shook his head and mumbled something inaudible.

‘Listen to me, Timmy, we know someone called you from payphones reverse charge, you knew he was coming to your mother’s flat, so why didn’t you call the police?’

No reaction.

‘You are an intelligent man, Timmy. If you are protecting him . . .’

‘I’m fucking not.’

‘So what made you let him into your flat? Why did you help him?’

There was no reaction, and then Anna leaned forwards as Langton searched through a file and whispered something to Mike. Mike reached for a separate file on the trolley and passed it to
Langton.

‘Have you ever seen any of these girls, Timmy?’

Out came the photographs of their victims, each one laid flat in front of Bradford, but he shook his head over and over again.

‘I’ve never seen any of them, I swear before God.’

Langton quietly told Bradford that they were the young women that his friend Oates had admitted to killing.

‘Jesus Christ, I had nothin’ to do with them. I’ve never seen any of them before in my life.’

Langton gathered up the photographs and stacked them on the edge of the table like a pack of cards.

‘It’s hard for me to believe that. You see, I can’t understand why you would let him hide out in your flat, unless you were involved. You were the one who originally took him
to the quarry, you—’

‘I had nothing to do with any of them.’ Bradford was becoming very agitated and starting to sweat.

‘You expect me to believe you? You’ve lied about your mother. She was eighty-two years old, wasn’t she? You think she deserved to end up dead, strung up on a pulley over her
bath?’

‘No,’ Bradford replied quietly.

‘What happened, Timmy, did she find out you were trying to steal her money, caught you red-handed faking her signature on a cheque and you argued?’

Bradford was beginning to break, his body language indicating that he was finding it hard to control himself. His hands were clasped at his sides and he was still sweating, with stains spreading
under the armpits of his denim shirt.

‘Let me tell you what I think happened: you had this argument with your mother and you snapped, you didn’t mean to hurt her, you couldn’t stop yourself, you needed that money
and . . .’

‘She wouldn’t give it to me.’ Bradford blurted it out.

Anna stood up and looked to Barbara.

‘Got him, he’s going to spill the beans.’

‘You want a coffee?’

‘Nope, I need to make some urgent calls,’ Anna said as she left the room.

The next time Anna saw Barbara was when she hurried into the incident room an hour later.

‘DCS Langton wants the gold bracelet from the evidence locker room.’

‘How’s it going in there?’ Anna asked.

‘Well it’s not really, they still haven’t broken him.’

Anna raced down into the basement to unlock the evidence cage with Barbara hurrying alongside her.

‘He’s opened the floodgates, we’ve had tears and at one point he even tried to get on his knees to beg forgiveness. Bradford’s got a lot of debts from his gambling and
there’s some heavy guys onto him so he needed to get some cash to pay them off.’

Anna began to dig around for the bag containing the gold bracelet. ‘Did he explain why he helped Oates?’