The Sister(89)

‘Wait a minute; was it one of those girls that appeared on my wall?’

Kennedy stared at him steadily.

‘Oh no, which one?’ Bletchley was wringing his hands with anxiety. Tanner thought. This guy should take up acting.

‘Now, let me see,’ Kennedy said. ‘I showed you two photographs and you denied knowing one of them. Here she is on your wall.’ He pointed at her group of pictures. ‘She’s about halfway down. The other one is Natasha Stone, your former girlfriend. Look where she is, Bletchley.’

He leaned forwards to see better.

‘Can you see her?’

‘Of course I can see her.’

‘She’s at the top isn’t she?’

He nodded.

‘She was raped in her own home, Saturday night, between midnight and 1:00 a.m. The first on the list.’

‘No, no hang on, there’s no list, I did not put those photographs up on the wall. I wouldn’t be that stupid. If I was…’ The next photo Kennedy put down stopped him mid flow.

‘Recognise this?’

It was a photograph of a World War Two gasmask.

‘I think I need a lawyer.’

Tanner stopped the tape, recording the time as 6:55 p.m.

‘Too damned right you do!’ Kennedy said.

Bletchley looked at him tight lipped.

‘Tell me why you have twenty-seven names, but only photographs of twenty-six girls.’

Tanner intervened. ‘Sir—’

‘Leave him to answer the question, DI Tanner,’ he snapped then rounded on Bletchley. ‘Well?’

‘I know my rights,’ he muttered.

‘I don’t doubt that, son, but you see, the tape is now off and I asked you a fair question. To me it’s all about the math. Twenty-six pictures, twenty-seven names. I already know whose picture is missing. I just want you to tell me why.’

‘Sir, do you want me to go and get us a coffee?’ Tanner leaned towards the suspect. ‘With me gone, this’ll be the bit where the DCI slaps you up a bit.’

Bletchley had seen enough cop films to believe the possibility. He caved.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I didn’t get a photo of her yet.’

Kennedy looked at him with incredulity. ‘And that’s it?’

‘Yes, I only saw her for the first time a few days ago; I haven’t had the chance.’

Kennedy considered what he said and wondered where on the list she’d have been if he did have a photograph of her. Did he even need a picture of her to make her the next victim? He felt he might have saved her. When he told her later, she’d be forever grateful. He had to check himself from having a full-blown fantasy about it.

‘Go on, Tanner; get him back to the cells. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.’





Chapter 70



The following afternoon, with the wind outside buffeting the windows, Kennedy drew the blinds and resumed the interview. Bletchley exercised the right to have legal representation; his appointed solicitor was a Mr Brown.

Brushing a few thin strands of wind-blown hair back into place across the top of his head, Brown began by saying his client had reason to believe someone else had a set of keys to his flat and they'd used them to put his client’s private photographs on display, knowing the police planned a raid.

Kennedy shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Why does your client think someone would do that?’

Putting his pen down, Brown crossed his arms. ‘Look, DCI Kennedy, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that taking photographs isn’t a crime.’

‘No, Mr Brown you don’t. In public places, it isn’t, but taken through bedroom windows without permission? Not to mention trespass and the possession of chloroform, which under any circumstances without the appropriate licence – whatever the intent – most certainly is.’

‘Be that as it may, Mr Kennedy, my client denies he was involved in any assault.’

‘It was a rape, Mr Brown,’ Kennedy said. ‘There’s also the question of the paraphernalia found in his flat.’

‘He maintains somebody broke in and put it there,’ Brown said evenly.

Kennedy turned his head to Bletchley. ‘Where’s all this coming from?’

‘You remember I told you about the guy who wanted the chloroform and didn’t turn up? Well I think he broke into my flat before that and stole the spare keys from the cupboard in my kitchen. It was only after he stole the chloroform from my boot that I checked and found the keys missing.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday? Why didn’t you report it when you suspected a break-in, when you found your keys were missing?’

‘Wait a minute; you think because I was watching these women, I must be behind the rape?’

‘Bingo!’ Kennedy said, sarcastically.

‘No, no! Wait a minute. Someone else was watching them as well as me!’

‘You never mentioned that yesterday either. Do you have a name?’ Kennedy cannot hide his disdain.

‘No, I haven’t, but I thought he was just like me, you know got his kicks—’

‘Who was it, Bletchley?’ Kennedy scratched the back of his neck. ‘Or hadn’t you got round to making each other’s acquaintance. Was he watching all of them?’