1977

1.3?

1974 .

32 .

1975 .

239 + 584 .

1976 .

X3

1977 .

3.5 .

And Noble is saying:

‘We got a witness, this Mark Lancaster, who says he saw a white Ford Cortina, black roof, on Reginald Street about two this morning. Fairclough’s motor. No question.’

We’re listening, waiting.

‘Right, Farley is saying that this is definitely the same man. No question. And Bob Craven’s lads have turned up another witness who saw this guy, this Dave, the night Joan Richards was murdered. Description’s a ringer for Fairclough. No question.’

Listening, waiting.

‘I say we stick the cunt in a line-up, see if this witness’ll pick him out.’

Waiting.

‘No alibi, motor spotted at the time of death, witness has him for Joan Richards, same blood group, what you reckon?’

Oldman:

‘Cunt’s going down.’

The magnificent seven.

We’re standing there, in the line-up, in the room we use for press conferences, the chairs all folded up at the back, Ellis and me either side of Fairclough, two guys from Vice and a couple of civilians making up the numbers and a fiver each.

The coppers, we all look alike.

The civilians are both over forty.

No-one looks like Donny.

And there we stand, in the line-up, numbers three, four, and five. Number four shaking, stinking, smelling like FEAR, HATE, and DIRTY THOUGHTS.

‘This isn’t right,’ he’s moaning. ‘I should have a lawyer.’

‘But you haven’t done anything, Donny,’ says Ellis. ‘Or so you keep saying.’

‘But I haven’t.’

‘We’ll see,’ I say. ‘We’ll see who’s not done anything.’

Rudkin sticks his head in, ‘Right, quiet now ladies. Eyes front.’

He opens the door wider and Oldman, Noble, and Craven lead in Karen Burns.

Karen fucking Burns.

Fuck.

She looks down the line, looks at Craven, who nods, and steps towards us.

Noble puts a hand on her arm to hold her back.

He turns to Rudkin, ‘Where are the bloody numbers?’

‘Shit.’

Noble rolls his eyes and turns to Karen Burns and says in a low voice, ‘When you see the man you saw last year on the night of 6th February please stand before him and touch his right shoulder.’

She nods, swallows, and steps towards the first man.

She doesn’t even look at him.

Past the second, straight to us.

She stands before Ellis, and I’m wondering if he’s ever fucked her, if there’s a man in this room who hasn’t.

Ellis is almost smiling.

She glances down the line at me.

I fix on the wall ahead, the white patches where the pictures were.

She moves on.

Fairclough coughs.

She’s standing in front of him.

He’s staring at her.

‘Eyes front,’ hisses Rudkin.

She’s staring back.

He’s smiling.

She moves her hand.

The whole row turns.

She adjusts the strap of her bag and turns to me.

I can see the teeth of Fairclough’s grin out the corner of my eye, in my face.

He’s laughing.

I swallow.

She’s before me, smiling.

I pull her from the bed, across the floor.

My eyes dead ahead.

Just a pair of pink knickers, tits out.

Staring me up and down.

And she’s under me, hands across her face because I’m slapping the shit out of her.

I can feel myself start to rock, a mouth full of sand.

And I slap her again and then I look down at her bleeding lips and nose.

She won’t stop staring.

The bloody smears on her chin and neck, her tits and arms.

I’ve got sweat running down my face, down my neck, down my back, down my legs, rivers of salt.

And I pull off her pink knickers and drag her back to the bed and pull open my trousers and push it into her.

She doesn’t move.

And I slap her again and turn her over.

Rudkin’s next to her, Ellis turning sideways back down the line.

And she starts struggling, saying we don’t need to do it like this.

She moves her arm, her hand coming up.

But I push her face down into the dirty sheets and bring my cock up.

I step back.

And stick it in her arse and she’s screaming.

She sniffs, wipes her nose, and she smiles.

And she’s lying there on the bed, semen and blood running down her thighs.

I look down.

And I get up and do it again and this time it doesn’t hurt.

‘He’s not here,’ she says, not even looking at six and seven.

I look up.

‘Would you like to go through them one more time? Just to be sure,’ says Noble.

‘He’s not here.’

‘I think you should take one more…’