fall into a couple of categories,’ said Bradshaw, ‘the ones who sell sex for cash either because they want to or are forced to, but either way, money changes hands. They work from their homes or rented accommodation. Then there are streetwalkers at the lower end of the scale, who climb into strangers’ cars. It’s risky and most of the money goes to the pimps who supply them with a fix because they are often dependent on drugs.’
She nodded. ‘The girls at Meadowlands are in a different category. They hang around older guys and become friendly with them. Those guys give them cigarettes, booze, weed, small sums of money, a pizza maybe … but they expect something in return, not always right away but eventually. The girls get confused and sometimes think of these older guys as boyfriends or at least friends, and the boundaries become blurred, so when one of the men forces himself on a girl they often view it as normal, like it’s the price they have to pay for the stuff they’ve been given.’
‘Christ. How old are these girls?’
‘The age range is thirteen to sixteen.’ And Bradshaw realised the girl who propositioned him outside Meadowlands may have been even younger than he thought.
‘That is unbelievable, and you know for sure that this is going on?’
‘It’s pretty common knowledge.’
‘Then why is nothing being done?’
‘I could ask you that,’ she said, ‘since you’re a police officer.’
‘I’m assuming there have been no arrests because no one knows where the girls are being taken.’
‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘everyone knows. I told you; it’s common knowledge. The men involved run a series of businesses in a street just a few hundred yards from Meadowlands. There’s a taxi rank, a burger bar and an off-licence.’
‘And the men there openly prey on these underage girls?’ She nodded. ‘But nobody has been punished, why the hell not?’
‘You might want to ask some of your colleagues about that.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tom arranged to meet Helen later and started to retrace Annie Bell’s steps, leaving the car park and mentally totting up the time it would take to do all of her errands as he progressed along the high street: past the dry cleaners, the department store and travel agents then Oscar’s café. There was no need to check her story about the row in the café – enough people had witnessed that. Instead he looked through the window and noticed how cramped it was. Causing an argument in a place this size wasn’t a very English thing to do, he reasoned … unless you wanted everyone to remember you.
When Tom Carney told the young manager of the local cinema he was a journalist, the guy couldn’t do enough for him. As he led him into the foyer, Tom realised why he was being so cooperative. The cinema was old, dark and musty. There were even cobwebs in less accessible corners and the place smelt vaguely unpleasant. The manager must have been hoping a journalist might give the cinema a boost, though Tom wasn’t sure how linking it to a murder was going to do it any good.
‘I’m looking for information on a specific film shown two years ago.’ He gave the manager the relevant date, the name of the film and an explanation: he was researching the Rebecca Holt case.
‘The police asked us about that,’ said the manager. ‘I was here then.’ He sounded a little despondent as he said that, perhaps realising the amount of time that had elapsed while he was still in the same dead-end job. ‘It was to do with an alibi.’
‘That’s right.’
‘That should be easy enough to check. It’s all in the logbook.’
Tom watched as he lifted something the thickness of two telephone books from a shelf behind the counter. There was no place for computers here. The manager began to leaf through the logbook, looking for the relevant date. It took him some time but eventually he glanced up at Tom.
‘Yes,’ said the man with some pride at actually finding what he was looking for. He pointed at the date Rebecca Holt was murdered. ‘Screen 2, Schindler’s List, three screenings: one thirty, five thirty and seven thirty.’ He closed the book.
‘Do you get many for the early-afternoon showing?’
‘It varies. It’s never as popular as the evenings but we get a few.’ He contemplated this for a moment. ‘Or we used to, before the multiplex opened up outside town.’
‘What kind of people go to the cinema at that time?’
The manager shrugged. ‘Students