Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(37)

‘No. Well, I saw her, she only lived a few doors down, but I didn’t have anything to do with her.’

‘You didn’t meet her or have sex with her again?’ asked Moss.

‘No. I told you. No.’

There was a pause. Erika pulled out her phone. She scrolled through and found a video and then placed the phone between them on the table. On the screen, the video from Joseph Pitkin’s phone began to play. Marissa in her bedroom, the man who looked like Don coming into the room, looking around shiftily. They kissed by the front window. Marissa began to unbuckle his trousers.

‘Stop, I don’t need to see any more,’ he said. He got up from the table and went to the window, looking out into the garden. Erika stopped the video and tucked the phone back in her pocket. ‘Do you ever feel like, jeez, how did I end up here?’

Erika and Moss remained silent.

‘I wanted to do so much. I trained with the under-fourteens squad at Millwall. They said I could have gone professional, and I thought I would, but I broke my leg in a car accident.’

‘What does this have to do with you lying to us about seeing Marissa?’ asked Erika.

‘She was exciting. She was… sexy and… she made me feel alive.’

‘She flattered you?’

He paused and nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. ‘She wanted to hook up again, a few months ago.’

‘This video is dated last September.’

He nodded. ‘We had sex, as you’ve probably seen. It was great.’

‘Did she initiate it, or you?’

‘She did. She sent me a text message, out of the blue one night. Jeanette was out of it. She’s been getting worse, drinking all day, getting abusive and then throwing up everywhere. Her health is getting worse. It’s like having a kid. I realised a few months ago, I’m pretty much her carer, and when I’m not at work, that’s what I do. I take the shit, I cook and clean, I feed her, I clear up the sick. So, when this text message came from a beautiful young woman who wanted to screw my brains out, I went. I’m not ashamed of that.’

‘Why was it only the one time?’ asked Erika.

‘She told me afterwards that when we first slept together she was fifteen…’ He put his head in his hands.

‘And let me guess, she was going to report you?’

He nodded. ‘She told me that historical abuse cases get lots of press attention, and that she would be believed.’

‘Did you abuse her?’

‘NO! It was consensual, you have to believe me, and I thought she was sixteen. She was a woman. She had the body of a woman. I’m not into… I would never…’ He started to sob now; big fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Erika took out a packet of tissues and passed him one. He took it and wiped at his face, embarrassed. ‘She told me that she wanted five grand, or she would go to the police and report me.’

‘Did you believe her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did you react?’ asked Moss.

‘She was clever about it. She asked me to meet her in central London, at a coffee place. It was busy and she told me how it was going to go down.’

‘Did you give her the money?’ asked Erika.

He nodded and rubbed at his face.

‘I thought it would be a one-off but she blackmailed me for another five grand.’

‘How did you give it to her?’

‘Bank transfer.’

‘Was she fifteen when you first had sex with her?’

‘Is this on record…’

‘Was she fifteen?’ repeated Erika, raising her voice.

‘Yes! Alright. YES! She was two days away from her sixteenth birthday. I didn’t know at the time, she told me in September, but it was just two days!’ he said, holding up two fingers. ‘If it had been after the weekend, it would have been legal. How does that work? On Friday I’m a paedophile, but the following Monday I’m not? If I’m done for sex offences, do you know what they would do? I’d lose my job. We have a mortgage. My wife can’t look after herself. You know what things are like right now. It would make headlines.’

Erika rubbed her face, and Moss shook her head.

‘When did you last see Marissa, Don?’ said Erika.

‘Christmas Eve. At the train station.’

‘What time?’

‘Around 9.45 p.m. Jeanette saw her by the ticket machines and had a few words to say to her.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Nothing different to all the other times: “you bitch, you whore”.’

‘Does Jeanette know about the blackmail?’

‘No.’

‘And where were you for the rest of Christmas Eve?’ asked Erika.

‘I was here,’ he said, looking up at her, staring her directly in the eye. ‘Working.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a graphic designer. I work from home.’

‘Do you have a home office?’ asked Moss.

‘I use the kitchen table.’

‘You don’t use your spare room?’

He sighed. ‘No. That’s where I sleep.’

‘And Jeanette?’

‘She has the front bedroom. Is it necessary to ask these questions? I don’t know what it’s to do with?’