‘She wasn’t the only one on the game in there.’
‘We know that, and we’ve interviewed one of the women, not that she’s there now, too scared, worried that it will be her next.’
‘I never saw more than three men, but it was on the way home from seeing a friend, and I’d sometimes watch from the end of the road.’
‘Tell me about the men?’
‘You said there was another one in there selling herself.’
‘Process of elimination.’
‘Tim Winston used to visit her.’
‘You’ve not mentioned that before. Why?’
‘Why what? Why I didn’t mention it, or why he visited her?’
‘Both; start with the first.’
‘Tim was always that way inclined. When he was younger, whoever he could get, two a night, cheating on each with the other.’
‘But he married Maeve.’
‘Tim was bright, smarter than all of us, a man destined for better, and he knew it. And Maeve, she wanted to improve herself. A matched pair the two of them, but she could be a cold fish, saving herself for marriage. Tim, he would have liked that, but he hasn’t changed, not if he was seeing Janice.’
‘Could he have killed her?’
‘I don’t think he’d be that stupid, and why? He had it made. The loyal housewife at home; my daughter, whenever he paid the money.’
‘Your daughter? A substitute for you?’
‘He would have seen the humour in it. As long as Maeve didn’t know, it wouldn’t have worried him, and she’d have him on short rations. Sometimes, we used to tease her that she fancied women more than men.’
‘Did she?’
‘Just childish nonsense. She was more sensible than us.’
‘Tim?’
‘What does it matter? It’s what men do. They can’t help themselves, can they?’
‘Your daughter? Tim Winston or the men you had here?’
‘They’re all the same. No doubt you were in your day.’
Isaac chose not to answer.
‘One final question. Winston’s with your daughter, then overly protective of his. What do you think of that?’
‘He was doing his duty. It would have helped if Janice’s father had done his.’
‘Did he touch her?’
‘Not him, barely able to get it up.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘In hell, I hope.’
‘And Rose?’
‘If Brad wants her, that’s fine by me, not that he’ll stick by her.’
‘We’ve marked him as a decent young man, good moral values. Where do you think he got them from?’
‘Not from me; not from his father, and certainly not from Janice or Jim. We’re not good people,’ Gladys Robinson said. ‘Not evil, but none of us is like Maeve or Tim Winston and their precious daughter.’
‘Tim Winston’s not looking so good now,’ Isaac said.
‘Don’t let Maeve know. She was a friend once.’
‘I’ll try,’ Isaac said, although he knew it would not remain a secret. It was a murder enquiry; the truth is always revealed.
The relationship between Brad and Rose, Isaac knew, would be strained when it became known that the father of one had been paying the sister of another for sex. Isaac personally wished he hadn’t found out; professionally, it was another line of enquiry.
Chapter 9
Gladys Robinson could not be regarded as a credible witness: the ease with which she had accused Maeve Winston of giving herself to their teacher when they had been younger, ignoring or even condoning the abuse of her daughter. However, regardless of what anyone thought of her, she had made a serious accusation about Tim Winston.
It was early afternoon the next day when Isaac and Wendy met with the man. Isaac had broached the subject in the morning with Winston, and he had agreed to come into Challis Street.
Sheepishly, the man sat across from the two police officers in the interview room.
‘A disturbing development,’ Isaac said. He was prepared for a reaction. Hopefully, it would not be outright denial, the man indignant and storming out of the police station, huffing and puffing, threatening legal action. Wendy hoped he wasn’t involved, purely for Rose’s sake.
‘I’m willing to help, not sure that I can,’ Winston said. He wore a suit, a white shirt and a blue tie.
‘Tell us about Janice Robinson,’ Isaac said.
‘There’s not much to tell.’
‘You used to see her?’
‘We don’t live far from them, and sometimes we’d see them at the shops, not that I spoke to them much, just the usual courtesies.’
‘No wish to associate?’
‘Why? Do you keep in contact with those you went to school with?’
‘Mr Winston, we have reason to believe that you have seen Janice Robinson more recently,’ Isaac said, ignoring Winston’s previous response, a question with a question.
Wendy sensed a feeling of panic across the table.
‘Not for five or six years. The last time she was wearing a school uniform, hanging out with a group near McDonald’s.’
‘What were they doing?’
‘The usual. Playing with their phones, smoking, flirting with the boys.’
‘Incorrect behaviour?’
‘We’ve all been there. I didn’t think much about it. I only looked because I recognised Janice, the spitting image of her mother at that age.’
‘You took out Gladys Robinson?’ Wendy asked.
‘I’m not sure I’d call it that; nothing official. We’d meet up, watch a movie, and then I would walk her home. We were young, finding our way.’
‘You were a good student, hoping to improve yourself; Gladys was never going to be up to your standard.’
‘We were fourteen, fifteen. I don’t think I gave it too much thought, not Gladys, that is.’
‘We’re deviating,’ Isaac said. ‘The reason that you had an intimate relationship is not what we’re here for.’
‘Intimate? I’d hardly call it that. Gladys was putting it about something dreadful. I would have been a fool not to take advantage,’ Winston said, a man too much at ease in the interview room.
‘Back of the bike
