“Steve! DS Bull,” she called out, waving frantically to get his attention.
Having just tasked Richard Jarvis to take a statement from Billy Briggs, the driver who had discovered the body, Bull was on his way back to the deposition site when he heard his name being called. Looking around, he spotted Sarah and made his way over.
“Hello Sarah,” he said, surprised to see her at the scene. “What brings you here?”
Sarah bit her bottom lip. “Steve, I heard about the murder. I need you to tell me the victim’s name.” She was trying to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy.
Bull studied her carefully, confused by her distress. “We don’t know her name yet,” he said guardedly. “But even if we did, I couldn’t disclose it to you without the DCI’s authority. Why do you ask? And why are you so upset? Is something wrong?”
She nodded and a single tear ran down the side of her left cheek.
This was perplexing. Bull ducked under the cordon tape, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to one side, well away from any onlookers. “Okay,” he said when they were alone. “What is it?”
The words spilled out of her. “I should have told you this on Saturday when I found out, but Cassandra made me promise I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Slow down,” Steve told her, placing a hand on each shoulder to steady her. “Who’s Cassandra? And what should you have told me?”
“Cassandra Newly is a sex worker. She’s one of the girls we canvassed on Saturday evening. When I told her about the rehabilitation work we do at the Mission she asked if there was anything we could do to help her get off the game and turn her life around. We never turn anyone who asks for our help away so I invited her along to one of our meetings, with a view to entering her into a programme. When I asked her, what had happened to make her feel this way, she confided that she and a couple of other girls were having real problems with a particularly nasty client, and this had made her realise she couldn’t continue living like that.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of problems?”
“Well, he was becoming increasingly rough with them, and saying deeply disturbing things about what he wanted to do with them. He was talking about cutting them up and slicing them open, and they were scared he might actually do this. It all sounded really perverse when she told me.”
Steve felt his pulse quicken. Could this be the break they needed to catch the bastard? “Why didn’t you tell me about this at the time?” he asked, wondering if it was because she didn’t trust him.
Sarah took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head in shame. “I know how lame this sounds now, but I was just trying to do the right thing by Cassandra.”
Bull was annoyed, but he knew there was no point in berating her. “Did she give you a name for this client?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, he told all the girls that his name was Brian and that he was a cop. That’s why they were all afraid to say anything.”
“So, what changed?”
“He came to see her late on Saturday evening. He was a little drunk, and he was still wearing his ID on a lanyard around his neck. He’d obviously forgotten to remove it after work. She caught a glimpse of his personal details. Turns out he’s not a cop after all; he’s a civilian called Henry Boyden.”
The name meant nothing to Steve Bull, but it would be easy enough to check out. “And you’re worried that this Boyden bloke is the killer and that his latest victim might be Cassandra?”
“At first I was dubious,” she admitted. “I know Henry Boyden – not well I grant you – but he seems like a nice person. He works at Whitechapel police station, and he’s been doing some voluntary work at the charity for the last couple of months.”
“How did that come about?” Bull asked, astonished that anyone working the kind of shifts police employees were required to perform could possibly find the time to do charity work. It all sounded a bit suspect to him.
“He’s in my husband’s lodge.”
“Lodge?”
“They’re both Masons,” she explained. “Simon got talking to him at one of their meetings and Henry seemed genuinely interested in what we did. One thing led to another, and before long he had started volunteering.”
“Tell me you didn’t withhold this information just because he seems like a nice person?” Steve pleaded. The trouble with people like Sarah, he knew from past experience, was that they always wanted to see the best in people, and it made them fucking gullible.
“No,” Sarah said, exasperated that he should think her so naive. The tears, triggered by guilt and remorse, were flowing freely now. “Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you all of this straight away, but I was trying to protect her. I swear that I had already made up my mind to pass on the information before I heard about the murder; I was just trying to work out how best to do it without revealing Cassandra’s identity. And now it might all be too late.”
It might be, Steve thought. And if it is, you’ll have to live with that. “There’s nothing you can do here, so why don’t you go back to the Mission,” he told her. “I’ll make some urgent enquiries and talk to you later. Do you know the names of the other two girls?”
Sarah dabbed at her eyes. “I only know their first names. One was a redhead called Trudy and the other was a mixed-race girl called Sonia. They all
