Read Tennison Online

Authors: Lynda La Plante

Tennison (25 page)

Jane could see that Mr Collins was becoming highly emotional, but there was also anger in his eyes as he recounted what happened. He said that he had been afraid that he would lose control, so he had grabbed her rucksack and the syringe and then locked the door.

‘She started kicking and screaming to be let out, but I had to keep her in there. I waited for what seemed like ages until she stopped and then I unlocked the door. She came at me in a fury, lashing out and hitting me. In a panic I ran down the stairs to call the police and picked up the phone, but she ripped the line from the socket and went for me again. It was hard for me to believe that she could be so violent, so terribly angry.’ He searched in his trouser pocket, brought out a handkerchief, blew his nose and started crying.

‘Why didn’t you run outside and call for help?’

‘I don’t know. On impulse I followed her into the kitchen where she started pulling all the drawers out looking for the housekeeping money. I was worried she’d find it so I tried to drag her away, but she pushed me backwards kicking out at me with such terrible anger and hatred it really frightened me. I stumbled backwards and she pulled open another drawer, found an envelope, took it out and opened it. I shouted at her to put it back and leave the house but—’

Bradfield put up his hand to stop him. ‘It can’t have been that much if it was just housekeeping, so why didn’t you let her take it and leave? Then you could have called the police without being scared.’

‘No, no, you don’t understand. It was my staff’s weekly wages. I couldn’t just let her take it.’ He began to cry even more.

‘Why on earth do you keep such a large sum of money in the house?’ Bradfield asked in surprise. Mr Collins told him that he always got the cash from the bank on a Thursday and made up the pay packets on the Friday morning at work, but he usually took the money back to the office and locked it in the safe.

Bradfield asked why he hadn’t done so this particular Thursday and Collins seemed exasperated, explaining that he’d been to the bank before he went to the golf club and had come from the bank to change into his golf clothes and collect his clubs.

‘I tucked it away in the kitchen drawer and hadn’t thought any more about it because after her call I had been in a hurry to collect her.’

‘Did Julie Ann know you always went to the bank on a Thursday? I mean could she have called you at your office that day because she knew you’d have money?’

Collins’ body sagged as he lifted his hands and shrugged.

‘Yes, she could very well have remembered, but she had not been to the office more than a couple of times and a good few years ago.’

‘So you say she attacked you and then you ran down the stairs?’

‘Yes, then she was in the kitchen pulling out the drawers, and I honestly had not thought about it until I saw her find the envelope. She tried to leave with the money, but I couldn’t let her take it as my staff would have nothing to live on for the week. I tried to stop her leaving but she pushed past me into the hallway.’ He started to sob and looked up at Bradfield. ‘I didn’t mean to do it, I swear I didn’t, they were just there.’

‘What was there?’ Bradfield asked.

‘My golf clubs. They were still in the hallway where I’d left them earlier. I can’t even really remember exactly how it happened – I was so angry with her. She tried to open the front door so I just grabbed a club from the bag and hit her.’

As he began to sob and shake profusely Jane was shocked that even in anger he could do this to his pregnant daughter. Bradfield waited for him to calm down and asked how many times he struck Julie Ann.

He wiped his nose. ‘I don’t know, two or three times maybe . . . She fell to the floor and was rolling around moaning. I suddenly realized what I’d done and begged her to forgive me . . . but she screamed that she’d report me to the police and have me arrested. Some of the money had scattered on the floor so I picked it up, and I was so disgusted with what I’d done that I told her she could have it. But she said nothing, went limp and just lay there curled up in a ball.’ He paused, then shaking his head he said repeatedly, ‘I thought I’d killed her.’ Jane watched as the man broke down, sobbing wretchedly.

Bradfield waited for him to regain some composure, feeling little sympathy for George Collins; he should have controlled himself and never have hit Julie Ann, but it never ceased to amaze him how people could turn on those they loved the most. To make matters worse Collins had never even considered trying to call an ambulance, instead going into the living room and pouring himself a brandy to calm his nerves.

‘Julie Ann was clearly not dead, so what did you do?’ Bradfield asked, masking his revulsion for the man in front of him.

Mr Collins continued in a pained low voice, ‘I suddenly heard the front door slam and ran back into the hall. I couldn’t believe it. She’d gone, leaving the few notes that had fallen out of the envelope on the floor. She’d taken the rest of the money and her rucksack was gone. When I realized I rushed outside, but she was already running off down the road.’

‘Did you chase after her?’

‘No, I had nothing left in me to go after her, but I wish to God that I had. I had never raised a hand to her before that day and I am totally ashamed of what I did.’

‘Did you hear from her again?’

‘No, but I now know for certain she only came here looking for money that day. She faked being unconscious and I felt betrayed as everything she said was lies, even the fact she was pregnant. It wasn’t until you told me at the station that the pathologist discovered she really was pregnant that I knew she’s told me the truth about that. I wish to God I’d never played golf that day, then I would have taken the money back to the office safe and there would have been nothing for her to steal except the housekeeping.’ Collins’ grief had turned to anger.

Bradfield tapped his notebook. ‘So you say she took her rucksack. Was there anything she left in the box room that might help us?’

‘I don’t know, I just removed the padlock so my wife wouldn’t know Julie had been here and threw the hypodermic needle and some dirty clothes into the bin, then shut the door.’

‘She definitely never tried to contact you again?’

‘No, I swear to you. And my wife was away and has no knowledge of Julie being here. I am too ashamed of what I did to tell her. The first time I knew any more about what happened to her was when you came here to tell us she was dead. I have been consumed with guilt and worst of all I never got the chance to tell her how sorry I was and that I still loved her, no matter what.’ Jane watched as Collins started sobbing again, his head in his hands.

‘On the day and evening before her body was discovered, where were you?’ Bradfield asked quietly and calmly.

‘Where was I? Surely you don’t still think that I could have had anything to do with her murder?’ Collins looked up, surprised. ‘I was at work and afterwards I was here with my wife all night. We actually had our neighbours over for dinner, so you can ask them to verify it.’

‘I will do that, Mr Collins. Exactly how much money did she take?’

Collins stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket.

‘It was about £2,000, well, minus the notes she left behind, which I think were maybe about a hundred.’

Bradfield let out a slow whistle. ‘New notes?’

‘They were sequentially numbered £5, £10 and £1 notes. Whenever possible I always use the same teller and ask for the cash like that as it makes it easier to count off and check the individual pay packets are correct. I had to go back to the bank on Friday morning to withdraw more cash. The teller was surprised to see me and she asked if there was a problem. I didn’t tell her what had happened, but said that I’d had an unfortunate situation and she jumped to the conclusion I’d been robbed. She gave me a list of the serial numbers for the notes I had withdrawn.’

‘Do you still have it?’

Collins looked confused.

‘I think so. I came home with it in my pocket.’

‘I would like a copy of the serial numbers, Mr Collins.’

‘Will it help your investigation?’

‘The fact that your daughter had so much money makes her vulnerable and may be another motive for her murder. There wasn’t a penny on her when we found her body and she obviously didn’t have an abortion. I doubt she blew two grand on heroin in just over a week, but the serial numbers may help us to trace Julie Ann’s movements after she left here, and hopefully trace the person who killed her.’

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.

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you were at Julie Ann Collins’ post-mortem, or that you got it from me. Harker was very impressed, though, and not just with your knowledge,’ he said with a wink, making her blush again.

‘Take a bit of advice from an old sweat like me. You’re a sharp cookie, Tennison, and the stuff with the Bristol and the screw marks on the door was a good spot. But never try to run before you can walk, not in this job. As a probationer it’s always best to keep your eyes and ears open and mouth shut, or you’ll fall into a heap of shit before you know it.’

During the journey back to the station in the uniform patrol car Bradfield sat in the front passenger seat flicking the pages of his notebook back and forth and going over everything George Collins had said.

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