Eager to Please (41 page)

‘Tell me about Judith,’ he said. ‘You’d known her for a long time, hadn’t you?’

Bradley nodded.

‘So?’

He swung around and looked out the window. ‘So, she was a nice little girl. She was clever, but shy.’

‘Pretty?’

Bradley looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes, she was pretty. In that way that girls are. But they go off, you know. They lose that bloom.’

‘She doesn’t seem to have been very happy though, wasn’t that so?’

‘It was hard for her and her brother. What happened with their mother.’

‘And hard for you too, and your children?’

‘We sorted it all out. We got over it. It was a stupid mistake on Jenny’s part. She was overly influenced by Elizabeth Hill. But it’s all in the past now. We’ve forgotten
all about it.’

‘So you forgave your wife?’

‘Haven’t I just said that? Of course I forgave her. She made a mistake. She admitted it. She atoned for it. And now if you don’t mind, as I said, I’m very busy. I
can’t imagine why you’re dredging all this up now. And I can’t imagine what you think I have to do with it.’

He’d have to ask him. It had to be done.

‘You know, don’t you, Mr Bradley, that Judith was pregnant when she died. Of course we’ve tried to find out who the baby’s father was. We’ve eliminated Mark and
Stephen Hill. We’ve also eliminated a number of men with whom Judith had sexual relationships over the last few years. I’d like to be able to eliminate you. You’ll agree to a DNA
test, won’t you?’

Bradley stood up and walked to the window. He leaned his head against the glass. His face was very red. He turned back into the room. His voice was loud and angry.

‘You seriously think that I would have had sex with that girl after everything she’d done? What kind of a man do you think I am, that I would risk my own health and the health of my
wife by having anything to do with her?’

‘Your health, is that all that concerns you? Not the fact that she was young enough to be your daughter? That she was the child of your next-door neighbour. That she was a friend of your
own children. That she was little more than a child herself.’

Jack couldn’t keep the indignation out of his voice. He thought of his own daughters, and the thought made him feel ill.

‘Don’t give me that holier than thou bullshit, Inspector Donnelly. Judith Hill was a woman, and you know what women are like, don’t you?’

Bradley had been questioned about the allegations that the two school girls made about him and one of the other teachers. He had denied everything. Categorically. He had said that the girls had
a crush on him. That they were always trying to attract his attention, find ways of being alone with him. He had said that he had rejected their advances and this was their way of getting their own
back. He had been believed. The girls had backed down when they were challenged. Their parents had been embarrassed. It wouldn’t have gone away so easily now, Jack thought. After all the
revelations about abuse in schools, orphanages, county homes. After the way in which men and women in positions of authority had been shown to use their power to wreak havoc on young lives. Now the
girls would have been listened to more sympathetically. At least he hoped they would.

‘So, you’ll take the test, Mr Bradley? We can expect you at the station this afternoon. What time would suit you, three, three-thirty?’

He phoned Elizabeth Hill. Just to bring her up to date and to see what she would say. He was disappointed that her answering machine was switched on. He left a message asking her to call. Then
he went off to look at some more houses. Alison was determined. They were going to buy, no matter what.

It was after lunch the next day when the desk sergeant called him. ‘You’ve a visitor, Jack. A lady here to see you.’

That was quick off the mark, he thought. Elizabeth Hill must have been so excited at his news that she couldn’t wait. But it wasn’t Elizabeth. It was Jenny Bradley.

He took her across the road to the pub. The sun shining in the window showed up the deep lines across her forehead, the black circles beneath her eyes. Her voice was unsteady as she began to
speak.

‘I should have come before. I knew eventually you’d find out.’

‘Find out what exactly?’

‘Find out about George and those girls. You see, I knew he was lying about them. I knew he was like that. And I knew he was like that with Judith too.’

‘With Judith?’

She nodded. ‘It started when she was about thirteen or so. She was very friendly for a while with our daughter Sally, who was the same age. She was always in and out of the house. She used
to stay regularly and she’d often spend whole weekends with us. George was very fond of hill walking. He used to take the kids with him. In the summer they’d camp. Then Sally got sick
of it. But Judith still went with him. I knew it wasn’t right.’

‘But you didn’t do anything about it?’

She shook her head and stared down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring around on her plump fingers.

‘I didn’t for one very good reason. I thought that if he didn’t have Judith he would try it with Sally. I rationalized it that way. I also made myself think that Judith wanted
it, that at least this way she was getting some affection, some physical attention. Because I knew that her own father was extremely cold and distant. Somehow or another I made it all right. And
then—’

‘And then?’ Jack felt suddenly sick.

‘Then she got into all that trouble and instead of seeing it for what it was, a response to something that I had allowed to happen, I justified George’s actions. I allowed her
behaviour to legitimize what he had done.’

There was silence for a moment.

‘I’d like a drink,’ she said. ‘Brandy, please.’

He ordered two. She picked up the balloon-shaped glass and drank. ‘This test that you’ve done. You know, of course, what it will show, don’t you? You know that the baby was
his.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

She nodded. ‘As sure as I am that he killed Judith that evening. While I was next door icing my birthday cake, he was upstairs in Elizabeth’s old studio.’

Jack looked at her. ‘You know this for a fact, or you just think it?’

‘Well, he didn’t tell me, if that’s what you mean. He didn’t come bursting into the kitchen and announce it. But I know he did it. He was very loud that evening, full of
bombast. And at one stage one of the kids asked him where the camera was. She wanted the usual family photos. He went and got it, but there was no film. And I knew there had been a film in it. But
it was all used up.’

‘Why are you telling me this now?’ Jack picked up his glass and sipped.

‘You’re going to find out anyway. I always knew you would, that it was just a matter of time. I’ve given up trying to keep it a secret. I’m prepared now for the scandal
in a way that I wasn’t before. I’m also sick with disgust at my own behaviour. And I feel it’s time I made amends.’

‘So you’ll make a statement, you’ll stand over what you’ve said?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll do more than that. I’ll show you the one photograph that he didn’t leave in Elizabeth’s studio the day when he’d finished what he was doing.
I found it one day when I was cleaning his office.’

They sat in silence while they finished their drinks. Then Jack spoke again.

‘Why did he kill her?’ he asked. ‘Do you know?’

She shook her head. ‘Not for sure. But I presume she was going to spill the beans. She was quite a different girl when she came out of prison, you know. She was strong and self-confident.
She had a whole new life ahead of her. I’m surprised that she had continued to have sex with him. But I suppose he still had some hold on her. Anyway, I could see that Judith had made some
decisions about her life. I think it all had to do with that woman, the one who was in prison with her. Judith spoke to me about her. She said how much she had helped her. She said what an amazing
person she was.’ It was late by the time Jenny Bradley had finished making her statement. Sweeney had gone to pick up her husband. He refused to speak. He asked for his solicitor and then
remained silent. But they had the photograph and it said it all. The dead girl and the man with her body. There’d be no bail for him. Jack went back to his desk to tidy up. He looked at his
watch. It was after midnight. He picked up the phone and dialled Elizabeth Hill’s number. He knew it was late, but he knew she’d want to know what had happened. He listened to the
phone’s ringing tone. He could picture her room with the painted walls and ceiling.

‘Hallo.’ He heard her voice and behind it music. ‘Hallo, Elizabeth, it’s Jack Donnelly here.’ There was a silence for a moment, just the sound of a woman’s
voice singing.

‘Jack, how are you? You’ve news for me?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I thought you’d like to know.’

He told her the story. He spared her no details. She listened and said nothing. Then she spoke. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for not forgetting all about us.’

‘Are you all right?’

There was a pause. She sighed. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m just glad to know what happened. And that someone has taken responsibility for Judith’s death.’

He was just about to say goodbye and hang up, when he heard her voice, a sudden urgency.

‘Wait, just a minute. Tell me about that other case that you’ve been involved in. I’ve been reading about it on the Internet. The case involving Rachel Beckett.’

‘Oh yes, of course. You knew her, didn’t you?’

‘Not well, but she was very close to Judith. I know that. And I know that she helped Judith hugely when they were in prison together. I was so sorry to hear what happened. I thought this
would be a new beginning for her, a chance to put all that stuff behind her. But at least you got a conviction.’

‘Yes, I wasn’t sure how it would go, but the jury made the right decision. I’m sure of it.’

‘He got life, didn’t he?’

‘That’s right. And George Bradley was refused bail. So both of them will be enjoying themselves tonight, accommodation courtesy of the state.’

‘George will appreciate that,’ she said, ‘he always fancied the spartan ideal. But tell me, before you go, the girl that your man kidnapped . . . Amy, isn’t that her
name? Is she all right? How did she cope with the trial and all that sort of thing?’

‘Surprisingly well,’ he replied. ‘She’s actually a terrific kid. Very independent, very in control. And she’s lucky. She has a great relationship with her
foster-parents. They’ve helped her a lot.’

There was silence again, still the sound of the singing in the background. He yawned.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m keeping you up. You should be at home in your bed. Off you go now. And listen, thanks again, for everything.’

He left the station and walked outside. There was no moon tonight and pools of darkness lay between the orange streetlights. He walked down Marine Road and along by the harbour. He’d seen
a house today with Alison. One they both liked. It was in a cul-de-sac just off the main road. Five minutes to the shops and the harbour. He was going to enrol the girls in a sailing course next
summer. They’d love it. There was a beautiful if neglected garden with the house. Alison was delighted. Another challenge for her green fingers.

He stopped by the slipway and looked out at the sea. It slopped lazily against the harbour walls. He thought of the cottage in the forest where Elizabeth lived. It would be lonely at night,
especially in the winter. He recognized the song she had been playing and the singer. It was Billie Holiday. One of Alison’s favourites. He wondered if Elizabeth was alone. He hoped she
wasn’t. She was a nice woman, he thought. She deserved a bit of love in her life. He turned back and looked at the houses and blocks of apartments along by the harbour. All those people
defenceless in their sleep.

A breeze blew in from the east, ruffling his hair, making him suddenly shiver. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, gulping cleansing lungfuls of salty air. It was lovely out here tonight.
So fresh and quiet. He thought of what it would be like to be locked into a prison cell. When he was still in uniform, before he became a detective, he had been in and out of all the prisons more
times than he cared to remember. He had never got used to the locks, the noise, the smell. How would a man like Daniel Beckett cope, he wondered. He had watched the prison officers take him away
after the trial. Somehow he was no longer the strong, handsome man that he had been that night at the house. His hair was unkempt and untidy, his clothes sagged from his body. The handcuffs around
his wrists transformed and defined him. He was a prisoner now. Plain and simple.

Jack looked at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning. It had been a long day. He turned back towards the sea again. Where was Rachel Beckett now, he wondered. Somewhere out there, he
supposed, beyond the Kish bank. There wasn’t much chance of finding her body, not after all this time. She had loved the sea, so she had told him. Perhaps it was fitting that she should have
ended up there. He hoped that she hadn’t suffered too much. But there would have been that moment when she must have realized. There was no way out of this. There was no one to save her.

He turned away from the water and started walking again, and this time he didn’t stop until he got home. The apartment was dark and silent. He undressed quickly and slid into bed, slipping
his arms around Alison’s shoulders, pulling her head over on to his chest. He closed his eyes. He slept.

The wind blew from the east through the trees that surrounded Elizabeth Hill’s cottage. It smelt of resin and grass and the scent of the hops ripening on their bines.
Rachel curled herself up on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand. She listened to the music coming from the CD player. And she listened to the phone conversation that Elizabeth was having with the
guard from Dublin. She waited until Elizabeth put down the phone.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘tell me.’

She remembered the way it was the first time she ever saw the prison. It was through the mesh that covered the windows of the van which brought her from the Four Courts that
day all those years ago. It was winter. It was late afternoon, early evening. Rush hour in Dublin. It was dark, or it should have been dark. Except for the bright white lights everywhere, flooding
the tarmacadam when they stopped at the gate. The first gate. Behind which was another gate, and behind that another, and finally the door of her cell.