Roberts’s number must have appeared on Miriam’s phone record too, but in my shock at seeing Carla’s name there I’d overlooked it. Perhaps if I’d been concentrating harder I could have wrapped this whole thing up a lot sooner. And Carla would still have been alive.
‘And that’s it, then?’
He looked up at me, his face asking to be believed. ‘That’s it. That’s how it was. You know, I didn’t mean to get involved. I wish I hadn’t. I really do. I just want to be left alone now; you know, to get on with my life.’
I sighed. ‘Two people dead just because some crack-addicted street girl threatens to make accusations.’
‘That’s how it was,’ he said, an irritatingly earnest look on his face. ‘I honestly wish I’d never got involved.’
‘I bet you do.’ I lit another cigarette. ‘That Miriam Fox must have been some blackmailer.’
‘She was. She really knew how to turn the screws.’
I sighed, then walked over to Kover. I leaned down close to his face and lit the flame on the lighter. He cowered back in the seat again. ‘You’re lying,’ I told him. ‘It was more than just a case of a doctor abusing his patient, wasn’t it? Tell me the truth. What was going on between you and Roberts, and why did Miriam have to die?’
I kept the flame inches from his petrol-soaked face, determined that I would get the whole truth out of him. It wasn’t that his story wasn’t plausible, although it still didn’t explain his relationship with Roberts; it was more that he was too keen to get me to swallow it. I’ve seen that sort of behaviour before from criminals. They want you to believe a certain series of events, even if it incriminates them. The reason’s simple: they’re usually hiding something worse.
‘I’m telling you the truth,’ he spluttered desperately. ‘I swear it.’
I took a punt. ‘What about those girls who went missing from Coleman House, Kover? What about them?’
‘Look, I don’t know—’
‘You’ve got ten seconds to start talking. Otherwise you burn.’
‘Look, please—’
‘Ten, nine, eight, sev—’
‘All right, all right, I’ll tell you!’
I flicked off the lighter and stood up. ‘It had better be the truth this time. Because otherwise I start the counting again at seven. Maybe even five. I’m tired of being fucked around.’
‘All right, all right.’ He paused for a moment to compose himself, then opened his mouth to say something. Then stopped. I think I knew then that it was going to be very bad. ‘Me and Dr Roberts … we had a little business going.’
‘What kind of business?’
‘Girls. Young girls.’
I dragged hard on my cigarette, feeling full of dread. ‘Tell me how this business worked.’
There was another pause while he thought about answering. In the end, though, he knew, like I knew, that he had no choice. ‘I had a client, a bloke who wanted young girls. Except, the thing was … he wanted them permanently.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He wanted girls who weren’t going to be missed.’
‘What was he doing with them?’
‘Well, you know…’
‘No, I don’t know. Tell me.’
‘I think he was killing them.’
‘Why? For kicks?’
‘I think so, yeah.’
In my time as a copper, I’d come across cases where paedophiles had murdered their victims. Sometimes to make sure they couldn’t tell anyone what had happened, but more often than not because the act of murder served to heighten the pleasure of the sexual act. Killing while coming. There are some people in this world for whom that’s the ultimate thrill.
‘Jesus.’ I shook my head, trying to take it all in. ‘So how did it work?’
‘Dr Roberts would pick the girls, the ones he thought could disappear without it getting noticed, ones he was treating. He’d give me the rundown on their movements, tell me the best time and place to snatch them, then I’d do the rest.’
I stared at him, feeling sick. ‘And how many times did you do this? How many girls disappeared?’
‘We didn’t do it much.’
‘How many?’
‘Four altogether.’
I dragged hard on the cigarette. ‘Over how long a period?’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘I don’t know, about eighteen months. Something like that. The girl – the whore – she got a sniff of what was going on. Dr Roberts chose one of her mates for taking, and somehow she rumbled it. That’s when she started blackmailing him, saying she’d expose him to the cops unless he paid her.’
‘Did you know the name of Fox’s friend? The girl Roberts … picked?’ I found the last word difficult to say.
He shook his head. ‘No, no. I never knew their names.’
‘It was Molly Hagger.’ He looked back at me blankly. ‘Her name was Molly Hagger, and she was thirteen.’ He looked down at his hands again, not saying anything. ‘And Miriam Fox had to go because she was threatening to go to the cops?’
‘Yeah. I picked her up pretending to be a punter. Then I did her.’
‘I know. I saw the body.’
I stood there for a long moment, trying to digest what I’d heard, wanting at the same time to throw my guts up until there was nothing left. I have never felt so sick and depressed, so weary of it all, as I did standing there in that cramped little room with this fucking monster.
‘And who was the last one you took? Was it a girl with black hair about the same age?’
‘No. That girl, Fox’s mate…’
‘Molly. Her name was Molly.’
‘She was the last one. The client didn’t like us doing it too often. Otherwise it raised suspicions.’
Which left another mystery. What had happened to Anne Taylor? Although that one at least would have to wait for another day.
‘And this client of yours, what’s his name?’
Kover looked me right in the eye.
‘Keen,’ he said. ‘Raymond Keen.’
38
I tried hard to hold in the shock that smacked me right between the eyes. Raymond Keen, a man I’d known for seven years, a man I’d killed for, involved in something so terrible that just the birefest thought
