Slur: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1 (4 page)

Julie and
the others looked at each other in astonishment. For Amanda that was a very
scathing comment. All of a sudden the realisation hit Julie – the spiked drinks
were having an effect and it looked as though they were about to see another
side to Amanda. Following this encouragement they continued to mercilessly
spike Amanda’s drinks with shorts at every opportunity, adding a little more as
Amanda grew progressively drunker. As the evening continued, Amanda became
bolder than Julie had ever seen her.

On one
occasion, she noticed a small hole in Debby’s tights, and could not resist the
temptation to stick her finger in the hole and work it further. This brought
about peals of laughter from Julie, Rita and Debby, who soon retaliated. In no
time at all they were tearing the tights from each other, dashing about under tables
in order to entrap their victims and unable to contain excited squeals of amusement.

By the end
of the evening Amanda had sung several popular songs, danced on tables and
acted a total fool. In terms of entertainment, the girls had got a good return
on their initial investment of a few spiked drinks.

Friday 20
^th
June 1986

As it approached closing time in the pubs, they tried to
decide where to go next. Rita and Debby were keen to go to a wine bar, which
stayed open until 2am and usually had a live band on stage. Julie, however, had
reservations.

‘I think we
should get Amanda home. She’s really plastered now,’ she said. ‘Look at the
state of her! She’s thrown up three times and knocked a drink over!’

Rita and
Debby looked at Amanda who was sitting with her head tilted to one side and
remains of vomit smeared around the outside of her mouth. She was muttering incomprehensibly,
and giggling to herself.

‘Oh she’ll
be all right, we’ll get her to drink some water to sober up,’ replied Rita,
refusing to be discouraged.

‘I’ll go and
get it,’ volunteered Debby. They didn’t realise that she had spotted a man who
had been chatting to her earlier.

After a few
minutes Julie and Rita grew tired of waiting for Debby to return from the bar.

‘What the
hell’s she up to?’ asked Rita, standing on tiptoes in order to see through to
the bar. ‘I should have guessed! She’s copped off. The dizzy cow’s probably
that busy being chatted up that she’s forgotten all about the glass of water!
I’d better go and get it my bleedin’ self!’ With that she stormed off in the
direction of the bar.

Rita soon
returned and busied herself with trying to get Amanda to drink as much of the water
as possible.

‘Not so
fast!’ insisted Julie. ‘You’ll have her throwing up again.’

Rita,
however, ignored Julie’s comment while she made sure that Amanda finished the pint
of water. She then rushed off for another one. When she returned, she said to
Julie, ‘That bleedin’ Debby’s still at it you know. I suppose it’s the last
we’ll see of her tonight.’

Julie
surmised that Rita was probably feeling a bit envious as she and Rita were
being faced with the possibility of accompanying Amanda home.

After
drinking two pints of water, Amanda remained extremely drunk. Julie attempted
to appeal to Rita’s more caring side by insisting that they see Amanda safely home.
‘There’s nobody more disappointed than me Rita, but we can’t leave her in this
state,’ Julie cajoled.

‘Oh, all
right then,’ Rita conceded. ‘I suppose I’d never live with myself if we just
shoved her in a taxi and something happened to her, and she’s in no fit state
to go anywhere else.’

‘Good on
you Rita, you’re a pal,’ said Julie.

‘Oh think
nothing of it,’ replied Rita, glancing at her watch. ‘Besides, if we get
cracking now, we might just make it somewhere else after all.’

Julie
couldn’t resist a smile. ‘You don’t give in, do you? You bugger.’

They virtually
carried Amanda from the pub, with her arms slung around each of their shoulders,
propping her up between them. As they passed within a metre of Debby, they
looked at her, and, before she had chance to say anything, Rita shouted, ‘Don’t
tell us, you’re going to the wine bar! Well I hope you have a better bloody
time than we’re having.’ Pausing, she then added, ‘Oh, and Debby … don’t do
anything I wouldn’t do!’

When they arrived
at the taxi rank, they were disappointed to see that a large queue had already
formed. While they were waiting they tried to find out Amanda’s full address,
but this was proving difficult. However, eventually they succeeded. After about
half an hour, they reached the front of the queue. By this time, Amanda’s
condition had improved a little. They surmised that this was perhaps because
the water was now beginning to have an effect.

By the time
they arrived at her home, she was starting to liven up again and had burst into
a chorus of, ‘Show me the way to go home.’ This was much to the annoyance of
the taxi driver who had been reluctant to carry them at first, due to Amanda’s
state. After paying the taxi driver, they got out. Rita asked him, ‘Will you
wait a minute for us while we get her to her door?’

‘You’re
joking, aren’t you?’ replied the taxi driver. ‘It’s Friday night, and I’m not
missing any fares while I’m sat here buggering about with you lot!’

‘Oh never
mind,’ Julie said to Rita, ‘Sod him, we’ll ring another from Amanda’s place.’

‘Yeah,’
shouted Rita, ‘Sod you, you miserable old git!’

The enraged
taxi driver sped off, leaving them standing on the pavement outside Amanda’s
home.

Rita tried
not to let this put her off as she turned to Amanda and said, ‘Come on then
Mandy, get your key out, then me and Julie can be off once we know you’re all right.’

Amanda
began fumbling about in her handbag, but after a few minutes of searching, it
became apparent that the keys were not to be found. Rita sighed. ‘Is
he
home?’

‘It depends
if he’s back yet,’ slurred Amanda.

Amanda and
Les’s flat was one of several contained in a large Victorian house. Julie
looked on the nameplate at the front door and saw that the flat was on the
first floor. She realised that in order to get Les to answer the door, he would
have to come out of his flat and down a flight of stairs. Julie winced at the
thought of disturbing Les at this time of night. Knowing his reputation for
moodiness, she guessed that he wouldn’t be pleased, especially when he noticed the
state Amanda was in, but, she thought, if it has to be, then it has to be!  ‘We’ll
have to ring the doorbell!’ she suggested.

Amanda
stepped towards the door. Unfortunately, her state of intoxication did not give
way to subtlety, and as she hammered at the door, shouting, ‘Let me in
sweetheart!’ Julie felt that she could probably be heard several blocks away.

After a few
minutes of shouting and ringing the doorbell, the door was yanked open and the
enraged form of Les appeared.

‘Just what
the hell do you think you’re playing at? You’ll wake the neighbours up with
that racket!’ he shouted.

Amanda
attempted to calm him down by throwing her arms about his neck and mumbling
words to the effect that she loved him and didn’t mean to wake him up.

He was
quick to notice her drunkenness and this further angered him. ‘Just look at the
bloody state of you!’

Julie tried
to placate him. ‘I’m sorry, she’s had a few too many. We got a bit carried away
with it being her birthday, but she’s come to no harm, and we made sure she got
home safely.’

‘Come to no
harm?’ he stormed. ‘Look at the bloody state of her – she’s out of her head!
Anyone could have taken advantage of her.’

‘I’m OK
love,’ muttered Amanda. ‘Don’t shout at them, they’re only trying to help.’

‘If they
were half decent friends, they wouldn’t have let you get like this in the first
place. Now get inside! I want you as far away from this pair of slags as
possible.’

Before
Julie or Rita could say anything in their defence, Les had pushed Amanda into
the house, and slammed the door shut.

‘I don’t
suppose there’s any chance of you ringing a taxi for us?’ Rita shouted sarcastically.

‘The bastard!’
shouted Julie.

‘Twat!’
muttered Rita.

Rita
surprised Julie by asking, ‘Eh, do you think she’ll be all right with that bastard
or what?’

‘Oh, I
think so,’ replied Julie. ‘From what Mandy tells me his bark’s worse than his
bite. He must have something going for him, she seems happy enough. In fact,
some mornings she walks in work as high as a kite with a bleedin’ big smile on
her face! I think he’s just worried in case she loses her inhibitions and
buggers off with somebody else. She’ll soon get round him. I bet they’ll be
bonking within half an hour.’

‘Oh, that’s
all right then. Right, how about our bit of fun, Jules? Are we going to get
this bleedin’ taxi into town or what?’

‘Are you joking Rita? It’s
half past bloody twelve. God knows what time it’ll be by the time we flag a
taxi down on the main road - that’s supposing we can find it!’

‘I knew it
was a bloody daft idea to take her home! Not that we got any thanks for it. If
that bastard of a boyfriend of hers would have let us phone a taxi from their place,
we could have been on our way to town by now.’

Julie was
tempted to mention that it was their fault for getting Amanda drunk, but she
thought better of it. Then Rita, who was now extremely vexed, added, ‘Right, I
tell you what, we’ll go out clubbing tomorrow night instead.’

‘Too late,’
Julie responded. ‘I’ve already arranged to go out with Vinny.’

‘Out
where?’

‘Oh, he’s
taking me to the Bella Vida for a meal, didn’t I tell you?’

‘No you
bleedin’ didn’t. The Bella Vida? That’s a bit pricey isn’t it? I thought it was
usually a curry down Rusholme, then back to his place for a bonk. Could this be
getting a bit serious by any chance?’

‘Well, put
it this way Rita; I wouldn’t go ordering your wedding hat yet.’

This
flippant remark helped to lighten the atmosphere between them, and Julie added,
‘No, I told him I wouldn’t be seeing him tonight, so he asked to take me out
tomorrow instead and offered to take me for a meal. Well, I wasn’t going to
look a gift horse in the mouth, was I?’

‘Are you
sure he hasn’t got an ulterior motive Julie, you know, he isn’t going to pop
the question or anything, is he?’ Rita teased.

‘Christ, I
hope not, otherwise I’m not going!’

They both
laughed.

The
discussion continued and they finally agreed that they would go for a drink on
the Sunday evening instead at their local, the Flying Horse. After a few minutes
they found the main road and set about the arduous task of catching a taxi at
20 minutes to one on a Saturday morning.

Saturday 21
^st
June 1986

When the police car screeched to an abrupt halt outside the
police station it jolted Julie back to the present. The police officers marched
her into the station where she was thoroughly searched, then introduced to the custody
sergeant by the name of Miller, a gaunt, diligent man, who seemed in awe of the
inspector.

Inspector Bowden outlined
the circumstances of her arrest to Sergeant Miller who then asked her several
questions and filled in the appropriate boxes on his custody sheet. He
explained procedure to her including her right to a solicitor, her right to
have someone informed and the necessity to take a urine sample in order to test
for drugs. She tried to protest but was soon hushed by Inspector Bowden who
bellowed, ‘Be quiet and listen to what the custody sergeant has to say! You’ll
have ample opportunity to speak for yourself later.’

Julie opted to have a duty
solicitor attend the interview, but waived her right to have someone informed. She
figured that her parents already knew anyway, and Rita would probably be in the
same position that she was in at the moment. Besides, if she did ring Rita, she
feared that her motives might be misinterpreted.

She didn’t think about
Vinny; she hardly had time to think at all as Inspector Bowden rushed her
through the process, eager to deal with her as soon as possible. Sergeant
Miller complied with his demands as he didn’t wish to offend the inspector.

Julie was then handed back
to Sergeant Drummond, the female arresting officer, who led her to an interview
room and advised her that they had to wait until arrangements for collection of
the urine sample were made. Then she would be interviewed.

The time spent waiting
seemed a lifetime although it was no more than a couple of minutes. Julie felt
clammy and uncomfortable. She was conscious of Sergeant Drummond watching her
all the time, and her heart was beating so loud she thought the sergeant must
be able to hear it and sense the fear that surged through her body. She tried
to look away from Sergeant Drummond, occupying herself by studying the bare,
neutral walls, and picking out odd flaws in the paintwork, but always there was
the disconcerting sensation of being watched. Like a fly drawn into a web, she constantly
needed to check whether she was still being observed, but each time she caught
her eye she felt increasingly uncomfortable.

Eventually the custody sergeant
entered the room accompanied by a female officer who, he explained, was
authorised to take a urine sample. Julie was taken away, thankful to have
escaped the watchful eye of Sergeant Drummond, but dreading what might lie in
store for her next.

The officer carried out the
procedure with the minimum of fuss, but it didn’t lessen Julie’s shame and
embarrassment. She then informed Julie that she would now be taken back to the interview
room. Julie felt as though she was on a factory conveyor belt; being forcefully
transported through the various painful stages of her own destruction, wanting
to call a halt to the whole thing but powerless to do so.

When Julie entered the interview
room for a second time, she was met by the fierce glare of Inspector Bowden
accompanied by his sidekick Sergeant Drummond. Seeing the expression on his
face, Julie knew that her initial assumption was about to be proved correct; he
was going to give her one hell of a grilling.

For the next twenty-four
hours the irrepressible Inspector Bowden and Sergeant Drummond conducted
interviews at spasmodic intervals, breaking occasionally for food and
refreshments at the insistence of the custody sergeant, Miller, who took great
delight in ensuring that the correct procedure was being carried out, and meticulously
recording the information on his custody sheet.

Throughout the interview
periods the interrogation was relentless, with the two officers asking her the
same questions repeatedly in the hope that she would crack and give something
away. Part of Inspector Bowden’s interview technique was to ask a series of
quick fire questions in his most commanding tone, without pausing, so that
Julie felt bewildered and unable to say anything in her defence.

Julie had been supplied with
a duty solicitor, a small, balding, meagre looking man in his late fifties.
Although a complete stranger to Julie, she had presented her case to him and he
had done his best to advise and support her. However, against the might of
Inspector Bowden and Sergeant Drummond, their joint pleadings were pitiful.

During the
repeated interviews Julie had suffered a range of emotions. She had shouted,
argued, cajoled and, at one point, broken down in tears and almost begged for
mercy. She felt sheer frustration at her inability to convince the two officers
of her innocence.

In the late
evening Inspector Bowden switched emphasis. The new scenario that he presented
to Julie took her by surprise.

‘On her
return home Amanda Morris boasted to her boyfriend about the drugs which she
had taken whilst in your company,’ he said.

‘We didn’t
take any drugs!’ snapped Julie. ‘We don’t go in for that sort of thing. We’re
just normal girls out to have a good time, that’s all.’

‘Normal,
Miss Quinley?
Normal
, do you say? Do you call running around ripping
each other’s tights off,
normal
? Do you call being asked to leave a
certain establishment, because you were dancing on the tables,
normal
? Do
you call having to accompany your friend home, due to her severely drunken and
drugged up state,
normal
?’

As the
inspector asked each question, his voice took on a more aggressive tone, laying
much emphasis on the word ‘normal’. Perversely, what had seemed hilarious to
Julie the previous evening, now seemed ridiculous and immature when described
by Inspector Bowden. She cringed with embarrassment.

The
intervals between questioning were just as traumatic for Julie. She spent her
time in a sparse cell that contained a narrow bed with one shabby blanket and
no pillow. In one corner of the cell was a washbasin with a pot placed
underneath it. The bed was hard and uncomfortable and she felt cold. There was
a dank, musty odour, intermingled with the smell of urine.

She was
unable to sleep; partly because of the discomfort, but also because of her
state of mind. A couple of times she had awoken after a few minutes, shivering,
both from the cold and from fear. Her dreams had been disturbing; she had
dreamt of death and her own persecution. In one dream she had been tried for
murder, and the jury had laughed. She could hear them whispering amongst
themselves, “she’s not normal”, “her behaviour isn’t normal” and the foreman
sneered at her as he announced the verdict “guilty”. Julie felt despair as the judge
passed sentence, and heard herself scream. When she woke up, she could still
feel the tension in her muscles especially her throat, which felt sore and dry.

The small,
bare cell offered no escape from her nightmares. Each time Julie awoke, she recalled
the full horror of the situation as she took in her surroundings.

Eventually
Julie gave up on sleep and sat upright on the bed. There was nothing to keep
her occupied except her own thoughts, which were almost as tortuous as the
dreams. She kept seeing the pained expression on her mother’s face when the
police had made the arrest, and her father’s look of anger and humiliation. As
much as Julie hated the present situation, she dreaded returning home.

Her mind
turned to Rita. Had she been arrested as well? She was presumably the “
one
other
” to whom Inspector Bowden had referred. How was she coping? Knowing
Rita as she did, Julie assumed that she would be giving the police a good run
for their money. “
What if Rita had given drugs to Amanda while I was at the
ladies?
” she thought, but she pooh-poohed the idea. “
Rita might be
flirtatious and brash
,
but she’s far too level-headed to do anything so
stupid.
”

Julie
wished that she hadn’t let Rita persuade her to lace Amanda’s drinks with
shorts. “
But it’s too late now!
” she thought. “
The damage has already
been done.
”

-------------------

Saturday
21
^st
June 1986

Inspector
Bowden strode towards the door of Detective Chief Inspector Marshall’s office,
stopped and knocked loudly.

‘Come in!’
shouted the DCI.

Inspector
Bowden entered and saw DCI Marshall seated behind his enormous desk appearing
affable and relaxed as usual. However, Inspector Bowden knew that under his
pleasant, rotund exterior, the DCI harboured a hidden depth and determination
that was underestimated by those who lived to regret it.

The DCI
pre-empted Inspector Bowden by asking, ‘How is the investigation coming along inspector?’

This caught
Inspector Bowden a little off guard, changing the scenario that he had
rehearsed in his mind. However, he still felt certain that his words would make
an impact on the DCI, and bring about a positive response to his request.

‘Very well,
sir,’ he replied. ‘In fact, that’s the purpose of my visit, to confirm that we
will be taking the suspects to court to request a three day remand in the cells
once the 72 hours is up.’

Inspector Bowden
thought that by giving DCI Marshall the impression that a three day remand had
already been agreed, he could pressure him to make a request at the Magistrates’
Court.

DCI Marshall,
however, was well rehearsed in responding to pressure and Inspector Bowden
presented very little threat to him. He let out a jaded sigh before replying in
a patronising manner. ‘Now then Inspector Bowden, let’s take this one step at a
time, shall we? Firstly, before we even think about taking anybody to court,
you need the superintendent’s agreement to hold the suspects for the initial 72
hours.’ He paused for effect, and watched Inspector Bowden squirm before he
continued. ‘At this point, Inspector Bowden, it has not yet been decided
whether we will be holding them that long.’

As
Inspector Bowden tried to respond, the DCI raised his voice while placing his
right hand in front of him, indicating that he hadn’t finished speaking. ‘Secondly,
Inspector Bowden, before we reach a decision, there are a couple of matters
that we need to consider. Perhaps you could help me by answering the following
questions?’

Again he
continued before giving Inspector Bowden a chance to speak. ‘How are the
suspects shaping up? Is there any sign of them confessing or do they still
maintain their innocence?’

‘Oh they’ll
admit it all right. They’ve got to in the end. It’s obvious they’re guilty.’

‘That,’
boomed the DCI, ‘does not answer my question! Have the suspects actually
admitted anything?’

‘No,’
Inspector Bowden was forced to concede.

‘Very well
then; how about our other enquiries? Have any of the team come up with anything?
Have any witnesses come forward to say they saw anything untoward take place?’

‘Yes sir,
as soon as the suspects told us which bars they’d visited we sent some officers
straight there to question the public. A few of the staff from the Portland Bars
remembered their raucous behaviour from last night,’ Inspector Bowden
volunteered, ‘and a barman even saw them pouring vodka into one of Amanda
Morris’s drinks before handing it to her.’

‘Raucous
behaviour is not what killed Amanda Morris, inspector, and if our suspicions
prove correct, and there were drugs involved, then a witness to a drink spiked
with vodka is simply not good enough! Am I correct in assuming that no drugs were
found on either of the suspects or in their homes?’

‘Yes,’
replied the inspector. ‘But Amanda Morris’s boyfriend says she boasted to him
about the drugs she had taken while in the company of the suspects, sir.’

‘Are you
referring to Mr Leslie Stevens?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘A man with
a previous record, I believe.’

‘Yes sir,
but not drugs related, just driving offences, and petty theft when he was an
adolescent.’

‘Nevertheless,
it makes him an unreliable witness. What about the urine samples?’

‘No trace
of drugs sir.’

‘Very well.
Under the circumstances, I feel that I have no alternative but to recommend to
the superintendent that we release the suspects due to lack of evidence.’

As
Inspector Bowden began to make desperate protestations, the DCI added, ‘That
will be all inspector! You may leave my office.’

Inspector
Bowden, realising that he was wasting his time by pleading any further,
retreated from DCI Marshall’s office, feeling temporarily defeated.

--------------------

Sunday
22
^nd
June 1986

In the
early hours of Sunday morning Sergeant Miller entered Julie’s cell.

‘Go and
collect your things, you’re going home,’ he instructed.

‘Why,
what’s happened?’ she asked.

‘Never
mind, just do as you’re told and do it quickly before the inspector changes his
mind!’