Eventually Vinny and Rita had to agree with Julie, because she had stated that if they didn’t help her she would risk doing it alone, such was her resolve. However, they would act swiftly, fixing the date for the following weekend because they reasoned that it wouldn’t be expected so soon after their previous attempt. They changed the night to a Saturday instead of Friday, because people were bound to be more alert on the same day of the week as the previous break-in.
Julie had also insisted that she would be the one to commit the deed as she couldn’t put Vinny through that trauma again. Knowing that she was impossible to dissuade in her present frame of mind, Vinny had grudgingly conceded.
When Julie went to the toilet, Rita had a quick word with Vinny.
‘I don’t think we’re gonna talk her out of this Vinny. She seems dead set on making sure he goes down. I just hope she’s up to it.’
‘I know, I can’t understand it. Why can’t she just let the dust settle and find another job? It’s not as if she has to live with the guilt of it. We all know that you and Julie didn’t kill Amanda.’
‘I know, but maybe there’s always that doubt in her mind and the only way she can live with what’s happened is to shift the blame. Let’s hope we do find him guilty, ’cos if we don’t I think it’ll crack her up altogether. I’d love to know what that Jackie’s got to do with it as well. I always thought she was a spiteful bitch. It wouldn’t surprise me if her and Les were in it together; two of a kind.’
Vinny shrugged by way of a response so Rita continued.
‘There’s one thing for sure Vinny, trying to catch him is the only thing that’s keeping her going at the moment, and until we do, neither of us is going to find any peace.’
--------------------
Saturday 23rd August 1986
Inspector Bowden had received news of the reported break-in at Leslie Stevens’ flat. Recognising that the home of Leslie Stevens was the same property connected with the Amanda Morris case, one of the PCs had been sure to inform him as the Senior Investigating Officer.
The inspector knew that there could be a possible connection but no matter how much he rattled his brains he couldn’t think what that connection might be. He went through the facts in his mind, but he had already spent countless hours trying to piece together the evidence and his thoughts were just a jumbled mass, resulting in a throbbing headache. He already had his suspects but couldn’t prove anything. Why would they want to break into the flat though? It just didn’t add up.
The update told him nothing. A neighbour had reported a man seen climbing out of the bedroom window of Leslie Stevens’ apartment, but the description of the man was vague. When Leslie Stevens had returned to the apartment, the intruder had already left, possibly disturbed when Mr Stevens returned early from his night out. Officers had carried out a search of the premises but nothing seemed to be missing. This was verified by the owner, Mr Leslie Stevens.
He sighed and reached for the bottle of paracetamols in his desk drawer, taking two out and washing them down with the remains of his cup of coffee. He was beginning to have his doubts about this case.
--------------------
Chapter 27
Tuesday 26th August 1986
Les had been watching the woman for the last few days. He would like to have watched her for a while longer to get a feel for her movements, but time was against him. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. If she went shooting her mouth off to the police he would be finished. Not having established a regular pattern to her comings and goings, he’d had to wait around the corner for two hours on the off chance of catching her leaving her home. It was fortunate that it was evening so there weren’t many people around, otherwise he might have raised suspicion. This wasn’t the sort of area where people hung about on street corners.
He’d been on edge since the night when she’d called round to his flat on the pretext of returning an LP that she’d borrowed off Amanda and forgotten to bring back. Trust that stupid Ernie to ask for some gear in front of her, the dickhead. Fancy doing it in front of Jacqueline of all people! There was a chance she might not have known what Ernie was talking about. After all, gear could have meant anything and if she wasn’t into drugs she might have thought he was talking about something else. But the more he thought about it, he knew that he couldn’t afford to take the chance, knowing that at any moment she might realise what had been going on.
It’s a good job she fancied him. She was so busy trying to sidle up to him on the couch that she didn’t notice him glare at Ernie and quickly change the subject. Ever since Amanda had died she’d been calling round to the flat with some excuse or another – sad bitch! She’d even given him her number; in case he might be feeling down one night and need a sympathetic ear, she’d said. So he rang her and played along just to keep her sweet. The ugly cow made him want to puke but it was the only way to gain her trust and buy some time until he had a chance to do something about her.
When she left her home he began to follow her. He’d done a recce of the surrounding streets a couple of days ago, so he knew where the obscure places were. Unfortunately, these types of houses didn’t have back entries, but there was a grass verge surrounded by plenty of bushes on the way to the bus-stop, and a quiet passageway behind a row of shops a couple of streets further on.
He continued to pursue her, hanging back so she wouldn’t see him. His heart began to beat erratically. He knew that the moment had arrived. Within the next few minutes he must sort her out otherwise he might not get another chance. Luck was with him as she began to head in the direction of the grass verge.
“Just a couple of minutes more, and she’ll be there,” he thought. But to his dismay she turned off into a side street before reaching the grass verge. He knew now that any possibility of taking her by surprise and dragging her into the bushes was gone. Although there was a chance she might still pass the row of shops, there was also a chance that she might not.
Fear gripped him. He daren’t miss this opportunity! But how else could he carry it off? Then he seized on an idea. He sped towards her till he was within hearing range. As soon as he was near enough he called out her name. She peered over her shoulder, recognition evident in her eyes followed by perplexity at his presence. Before she could voice her concerns, however, he was upon her. Taking advantage of her momentary confusion, he sprang behind her, covering her mouth with his left hand while jabbing the sharp end of a knife into her back with his other.
‘Not a fuckin’ sound, or you’re a gonner!’ he ordered.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she pleaded.
‘I said not a fuckin’ sound!’ he demanded, prodding her viciously with the knife.
He led her through the street, thankful that there was nobody about. His mind began to go into overdrive. What was the quickest way to get her to a secluded spot? They had already walked away from the grass verge. He knew, however, that if he continued to lead her to the end of this street, by turning right at the bottom, they might still reach the row of shops.
They headed in that direction, their progress slow and awkward. He released his hand from her mouth gripping her left arm instead, so that he could walk slightly to the side of her and therefore speed the journey. Before doing so he warned her again not to speak. He kept the knife pointing in her back with his right hand, visible from behind but hidden from anybody ahead of them. Because of their close proximity they would appear just like a courting couple.
As they walked along he hissed a barrage of insults at her, ‘Thought you were gonna step into Mandy’s shoes did you, you cheeky bitch? She’s worth a hundred of you. I don’t go in for ugly birds. Mandy was special. Do you hear?’
‘Yes,’ Jacqueline replied, her voice trembling.
‘Shut it, I don’t even want to listen to you! You disgust me. You’re an ugly, revolting bitch. Now just keep fuckin’ moving and keep your trap shut.’
When they reached the end of the road and turned right, Le
s was relieved to see the row of shops in the distance, highlighted by a billboard and wastepaper bin on the pavement. But his relief soon turned to consternation when he spotted a group of youths gathered outside one of the shops. It was obviously either a chip shop or off licence, which must have been shut when he did his recce, so he hadn’t realised the implication. He cursed himself for his stupidity.
‘You shout anything to that lot and you’re dead meat!’ he murmured into Jacqueline’s ear. ‘If you do as you’re told I won’t hurt you.’
As they neared the shops his grip tightened, mirroring his unease. He dug the knife deeper into her back, so that it was no longer just a threat but was now beginning to cut through her clothing and was causing her a great deal of discomfort.
Les figured that once they reached the shops he would have to drag her along the side of the buildings and into the back passageway, out of view. He estimated that the gang of youths were about three shops down and he knew that any noise or suspicious movement on approach to the shops would raise the alarm.
They were now about twenty yards from the shops and her co-operation was vital. He marched her nearer still. The youths were now at the point of recognition. Les was sweating profusely with the realisation that, should one of them turn and look in his direction, they would be able to give a good description.
When they reached the shops he was thankful that she didn’t put up a struggle. Maybe she had believed his words of assurance that no harm would come to her if she did as she was told. He had lied of course.
His deceit became evident as soon as they reached the passageway at the rear of the shops. He withdrew the knife so that he could turn her round and get a good swing at the front of her torso. There the flesh was softer and the blade would penetrate more easily. Now she did put up a struggle, trying to resist the relentless thrusting of the knife, but it was too late. Jacqueline bled to death in the grimy back entry, surrounded by the detritus of human life.
Once he was satisfied that she wouldn’t survive the attack, he covered her body with an old fencing panel and any other rubble he could find. He hoped that by doing so he would prolong discovery of the body for at least a couple of days so that he wouldn’t be fresh in anyone’s memory. Before he left the back passageway he quickly removed his jacket, turned it inside out and put it back on. That way he would ensure that most of the blood was hidden and in the dark hopefully no-one would notice that he was wearing his jacket inside-out. Now he just needed to make sure that nobody took a detailed look at him while he was making his escape.
As Les walked away from the body he was overcome by a strange feeling of euphoria. He had done it! He had killed in cold blood. He, Les Stevens, had committed the ultimate crime, and he was thrilled by the thought that, should the need arise, he would have no problem in doing it again.
--------------------
Saturday 30th August 1986
Saturday night came quickly; too quickly. Julie was filled with a dread, the power of which she had never experienced before. But she knew that she couldn’t back out now; she had to see this thing through!
They met at Vinny’s house and set off together. The three of them sat in silence during the journey until Vinny stopped the car a few of blocks from Les’s flat as he had done the previous week.
‘Right, here goes,’ said Rita.
‘Are you sure you still want to do this?’ Vinny asked Julie, but the look of determination in her eyes was enough to persuade him that she was still adamant.
They made their way towards Les’s flat, Julie’s heart beating wildly. When the building was in view, Julie felt a wave of panic rise through her body and towards her throat, constricting the muscles. She swallowed hard as though trying to quell the panic before it threatened to overwhelm her. They checked to make sure that the lights were out in Les’s flat and his car was not parked outside before Julie proceeded further.
Nobody spoke as she went towards the building. She knew that Rita and Vinny had accepted that this was something she had to do. She approached the front door slowly. Extracting a credit card from her bag, she began to slide it into the narrow gap at the side of the door, forcing the lock to shift. She was surprised at the ease with which the door slid open, and she stepped inside and shut it behind her.
She paused for a moment, wiping her sweating palms on her clothing. While gazing around the large hallway she took deep breaths in order to calm herself. She noticed that there were doors to three flats on the ground floor, but she knew that Les’s flat was upstairs. Vinny had gone over the details several times with her. She reviewed his instructions in her mind, “Top of the stairs, full turn at the halfway landing, top of the next flight, turn left as though coming back on yourself, follow the stair railing, and Les’s flat is the first door on the right.”
Julie approached the stairway nervously and began to ascend. First step, OK. Step two, all right. Step three, getting there. Before she had completed her fourth step she heard the sound of a door opening at one of the ground floor flats. In the space of less than a second, she assimilated the facts. “This person will come out of the door, spot me, unrecognised. They will assume I am a visitor. What would I do if that was the case? Answer: turn around and smile.”
She enacted the role, smiling fleetingly at the middle-aged man, then continued climbing the stairs. She could feel the man’s eyes on her for a moment, then heard his footsteps heading towards the main front door. “Thank God I shut it,” she thought, knowing that by leaving the door unlocked, she may have aroused his suspicion. Within a moment he was gone, but Julie’s anxiety remained.
Two steps from the landing. One step. Landing. Turn. One more flight to go. She continued warily, her legs trembling. At the top of the second flight she turned left as Vinny had instructed, her clammy hand clutching the rail. She spotted the first door on the right; Les’s flat. That was it.
Julie eyed the door. It was solid and the lock was of a type that would require a lot more work than the front door. A new lock must have been fitted since Vinny’s break-in, as it didn’t fit the description he had given her. She opened her oversized handbag, which she and Vinny had packed with tools. As she searched for a suitable instrument with which to prise the doorjamb, the tools clanked about. Julie shuddered at the rattling sound of metal on metal. She extracted a screwdriver and began to whittle away at the wood surrounding the lock.
The wood was hard and after a couple of minutes of chipping away, she had made little progress. She glanced around her. Julie could vaguely make out the entrance to another flat on the other side of the stair railings. She realised that if someone was to walk out of that flat, she would have great difficulty explaining herself. But her willpower took over.
Julie continued to work at the wood, gradually breaking off tiny pieces. Then, as she became frustrated her movements grew fast and frantic. She hacked away, feeling immense fulfilment as the wood began to fragment until she had worked a gap big enough for the door lock to give way. She gave the door a satisfied push and it swung with ease.
“So far, so good,” she thought, stepping inside the flat. The first room she wanted to explore was the bedroom to find out whether Les was still storing drugs there. She recalled Vinny’s instructions; “second door on the right.”
Unhesitating, Julie set about her business. She pushed the bedroom door open and was horrified by the sight that met her. In the semi-darkness she saw Les sprawled across the bed leering at her. ‘Hello Julie,’ he sneered. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
Her first instinct was to run and she spun around. Before she had a chance to get very far, however, Les leapt up and grabbed her from behind. He threw her viciously down onto the bed and jumped on top of her, using his hands to pin her down by her wrists. She saw the madness in his eyes as she lay with her face inches from his.
Julie struggled to free herself but he tightened his grip on her wrists until they felt sore. To her surprise he began to laugh. It was loud, raucou
s laughter; the laughter of a madman. She guessed that he was as high as a kite on something.
‘I’ve got you where I want you now, haven’t I?’ he taunted, ‘… and I can do anything I want with you.’ He squeezed her right breast to emphasise his point. ‘But before we have a bit of fun,’ he continued, ‘… you’ve got some explaining to do, like for instance, what the fuck are you doing in my flat, and why did you wreck the place last Friday?’
As the realisation of his intentions hit her, Julie stared at him in terror. He had obviously shifted his car and kept the lights off to make it appear that the flat was empty.
‘Come on, explain yourself!’ he commanded.
She could hear the aggression in his voice, but was still taken by surprise when he struck her forcefully across her face.
‘Right, start talking, you dirty slut, or next time it’ll be my fuckin’ fist!’
She knew that if he found out the real reason for her visit, he would do her some serious damage, so she tried to stall him, hoping that Vinny would come looking for her.
‘I wanted some speed,’ she improvised. ‘I knew I could get it here; you’re well known around town, aren’t you?’
‘Well why not fuckin’ buy it down town like everyone else then?’
Julie screamed as she felt another sharp blow across her face, then he grabbed her by the hair as he carried on talking. ‘I’m not fuckin’ stupid you know! I know why you came here. You’re trying to set me up, for a murder that you fuckin’ did.’
Despite her terror, the accusation angered Julie and she yelled back at him. ‘I didn’t kill Amanda, I’m not a murderer!’ Smack! She winced with pain as his fist hit her full on the face.
‘Don’t tell fuckin’ lies!’ he shouted. He was now becoming terrifying as he continued to bawl at her. ‘You and your fuckin’ slag of a friend killed Mandy, and now you’re going to pay for it!’
Slur: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1 Page 17