It was after nine that evening when Jim and I left the station. We returned to his flat, a two-and-a-half bedroom modern block he owned in the Edgbaston area of the city. Jim lived on the second floor of the building, and from the rear window of the master bedroom it was just possible to make out the structure of the cricket ground. That was the main reason for choosing the flat, he maintained; his rather passionate love of the game.
Whilst Jim went for a shower and an overdue shave I caught the latest news on the lounge television. There was no startling new information to report; the news channels were all full of the story of the missing child, including the interview with the Marsdens; I only hoped it might produce some results, although I wasn’t going to hold my breath. There followed background information on the schoolgirl, with interviews from her school friends and her headmaster. It was all very sad, especially to see those youngsters breaking down at the prospect that their friend might have come to serious harm. I switched off the picture of constant misery and started preparing dinner in Jim’s rather cramped kitchen. It consisted of a cooker, a fridge, a sink and little else, and – other than the basic crockery and cutlery – the cupboards were well and truly bare. But, as he said, whenever I chided him about the lack of utilities, “What do I need a kitchen for, anyway? I only use it for breakfast and whenever you’re here.”
He seemed to be absent for an eternity, so I stepped into the bedroom to see if he’d perhaps fallen asleep. He hadn’t. He was standing there, completely naked, drying his hair with a large bath towel, and sporting the most enormous erection. Well! What was I supposed to do? I slipped out of my clothes before he could notice – at least, I believe he hadn’t noticed – then sidled up to him and made a grab for his penis. His only reaction was to cuddle me, fondle my breasts, sexily, and say: “What took you so long?”
Instead of answering him I gave him a long, lingering kiss, shuddering with anticipation as I felt his tongue almost at my throat. I couldn’t wait; I just had to have him, there and then! So I mounted him – a little difficult in that position, but fortune favours the brave – and I let out a gasp when I felt him penetrate me. I don’t think I will ever get used to the sheer size of the man. We staggered, still coupled, over to the bed, and then spent what seemed to be eternity making incredible, passionate love. It was probably lust, if the truth was known, but who the hell cared? We drained into each other all the stress and tension we had undergone the last few days. For a while afterwards we lay exhaustedly in each other’s arms; then I felt myself drifting gently off to sleep.
After what seemed only a matter of minutes the ring of the telephone awakened me.
“Robbins here,” I heard Jim say.
Christ! Will we never have any peace? I turned towards the bedside clock. I couldn’t believe it! It was 5.30 in the morning. We had slept all those hours, and we still hadn’t eaten.
“Where was this, you say?” Jim asked. “Ward End? Yeah, I know it. Off the 4040.”
The morning light was already filtering through the window; I was suddenly wide-awake.
“What is it?”
“That was Frank Kewell. Some child’s clothing’s just been found. Near Ward End. “Come on, Angie; Frank’s picking us up at the station. He can take us to the scene.”
We were dressed and ready to leave in a matter of minutes, still on empty stomachs. When we arrived at the station Frank was already waiting for us. We transferred into his car and set off on the five-mile or so journey to Ward End.
“What’s new?” Jim asked him.
“Nothing. Only what I told you. It’s a bit sketchy at the moment - but they did say there was a pair of child’s red shoes with the rest of the clothes. Ring any bells?”
“Oh, no!” I said aloud, from the back of the car. “Please don’t let it be Josephine.”
Frank half turned from his driving position. “I think we should prepare ourselves,” he said.
Frank Kewell was the archetypal career police officer, having been in the force for almost 20 years and moved only so far through the ranks. He was a quiet, deep-thinking kind of man, in his early forties, with dark hair and matching moustache. He was of average build, with a gentle nature, but always serious and very slow to smile. I liked him (though not all of the time!), and had always found him helpful.