Good Friday

by Lynda La Plante

  “Okay, well, let’s talk during the week. Thanks for calling.”

  Jane replaced the receiver, and went to sit back down on the sofa. Confident that Natalie had believed her, she began to make bullet points to describe her interactions with Natalie.

  By the time Dexter had showered and returned to sit next to her, she was much calmer. She found his closeness unnerving. He was wearing a loose t-shirt with white tracksuit bottoms, and he smelt of soap and shampoo. Dexter glanced over her notes then, as if he sensed that his closeness was making her feel uncomfortable, he stood up and poured some more whisky into their glasses. This time he added ice cubes.

  “Did you phone her?”

  “Yes. I said I was staying over at my parents.”

  “Good. So, WDC Tennison, let’s crack this. You need to go step by step. Then we’ll either need to take this to HQ in the morning, or we go with the possibility it’s all down to conjecture and coincidence.” He paused. “That said, we’ve never released the brand of the two cigarette stubs we recovered from the phone box. Let’s go from the first time you met Natalie Wilde up until this afternoon.”

  Jane concentrated as she recounted how she had met Natalie at the hospital shortly after the bombing. She could recall exactly what they had said and that they had talked about being at Hendon training college. She described their first dinner at Fratelli’s restaurant and the later cooking lesson at Natalie’s flat in Belsize Park. Dexter listened intently and only interjected with reassurance, encouraging Jane to expand and give details about how long Natalie had said she had lived at her flat, and what the furnishing was like. When Jane admitted she had given the names of the officers she was working alongside, Dexter gave no hint of disapproval. But as she spoke more about the things she had discussed with Natalie, Jane felt increasingly alarmed.

  After nearly two hours Jane had finished talking and Dexter had been brought up to date with everything to do with Natalie. He had made copious notes and had topped up their drinks again. Jane felt completely drained and was ashamed at how much she had divulged to Natalie, albeit innocently. Only that afternoon she had even told Natalie about their key witness, Daphne Millbank, dying.

  “I didn’t give her Daphne’s name, but I did say she was an important witness.”

  Dexter stood up and drained his glass.

  “That might actually be advantageous. If she is who we think she is and feeds the information to her ASU cohorts, then they will be feeling confident.”

  Jane stood up and suddenly felt very dizzy and sick.

  “I’m so sorry but I think I’m going to be—” She started retching and Dexter grabbed her by her arms and hurried her through his bedroom into the bathroom. Jane didn’t quite make it close enough to the toilet bowl before she threw up into her hands and all over herself, falling to her knees to continue vomiting into the toilet bowl. She emptied her stomach of the lunch, the wine and the whisky, until she was heaving up bile. Her head felt like it was going to explode as she tried to stand back up on her feet.

  “You sure it’s all out of you?” Dexter said, holding a towel out toward her.

  “Yes. I just feel dizzy.”

  Dexter ran some water into the sink and rinsed out a cloth for Jane to wipe her face. He then suggested that she might want to have a shower, as her clothes were covered in sick. Jane leaned on the edge of the sink as he turned on the shower.

  “Get undressed and wash yourself down . . . I’ll leave you something clean to wear afterward. If you need me, just yell. I’ll be right outside.”

  “Thank you . . . I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Jane took off her soiled shirt and put it in a basin of warm water to soak. Her skirt was even more stained, and she felt so faint that she left it on the floor as she removed her underwear to get into the shower. She used the “soap on a rope” to wash, then shampooed her hair from a bottle in the shower tray. She was beginning to feel less dizzy, and stepped out of the shower to find a thick white bath towel on the heater and a smaller towel to wrap around her wet hair. When she was dry, she put on the over-sized James Dean T-shirt that Dexter had left on the radiator for her. As she pulled on her knickers there was a knock on the door.

  “You all right in there?”

  “Yes, I’m just coming out,” she called. She spent another few minutes checking around the edge of the toilet and using the brush from the stand beside it to make sure it was clean. She took a deep breath and walked out.

  Jane went through the bedroom and into the drawing room, where Dexter was sorting through his copious notes while eating a sandwich.

  “There’s a glass of iced tonic water on the table. Always good to have after you’ve thrown up.”

  “I’m so sorry. It was the whisky, on top of the wine I had at lunch.”

  “No need to apologize. You’ve had a lot to deal with.”

  Jane sipped the iced tonic water, and then remembered that her soiled shirt was still in the wash basin and, feeling very embarrassed, asked Dexter if she could have some washing powder so that she could rinse it out.

  “Forget it. Sit down. I’ll sort it for you.”

  “No, really, I insist. I can hang it up to dry, or just take it home in a plastic bag.”

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  She had no idea. She had left her watch in the bathroom.

  “Tennison, it’s after midnight. I’m going to get a blanket and kip out here on the sofa. You can have my bed. You’re in no fit state to drive.”

  “No, I’ll go home. I’ve got my car outside.”

  “Just do as you’re told . . . come on.” Dexter took her hand and drew her into the bedroom. He threw back the duvet and gestured for her to get into the big double bed.

  “My hair’s still wet.”

  He shook his head and went over to the bedside table. He took out a hairdryer from the drawer and plugged it into the socket next to the bed.

  “Okay, dry your hair while I clean up in the bathroom.”

  Jane stood in front of the bedroom mirror and, not having a brush, she ran her hands through her hair as she dried it. Dexter spent quite a while in the bathroom and she heard the toilet flushing a couple of times before he came out carrying her soiled skirt and her wet shirt.

  “I’m going to put this on the boiler so it’ll be dry by the morning.”

  He came back into the bedroom just as she was about to climb into his bed.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said softly.

  “I think you’ve said more than enough for one night. You should really try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be quite a day.”

  “Do you think this is going to put my career in jeopardy, you know, if I’ve been disclosing information that I shouldn’t have?”

  He sat down beside her. “At the moment it’s just a lot of conjecture and suspicion. But you’ve been upfront about it all with me. Obviously, it will all have to be checked out; you might be wrong. On the other hand, if you are right and Natalie Wilde is a sleeper then this is a big lead. Let’s face it: right now, with no Daphne Millbank, we are nowhere near identifying the Covent Garden bomber.”

  “Will Crowley investigate?”

  “I would think so. You’re going to have to be prepared for a lot of questions, and it’s a slow process. His team won’t want her tipped off that she’s being investigated and she’ll more than likely be under immediate surveillance. They’ll have to be careful because her contacts could be close.”

  He reached out and traced her face with his hand. Whether he instigated the kiss or Jane did, when his lips touched hers she didn’t hold back and the next moment he moved onto the bed to lie beside her. She didn’t want to let him go, even when he leaned up on his elbow and looked uncertainly into her face.

  “You sure about this?”

  “Yes, don’t go . . . please.”

  He cradled her in his arm and she buried her face in his neck, kissing him until he slowly drew up the James Dean t-sh
irt to kiss her breasts. He made love to her gently at first but then they became more passionate together and Dexter’s obvious sexual experience resulted in explosive orgasms that made her feel as if she was flying. Eventually they lay still together. Dexter drew Jane close to him and she rested her head again in the crook of his shoulder.

  “Well, that was unexpected, but very nice,” he said, softly kissing the top of her head.

  “Tell me about you,” she said.

  “I already have. There’s not much more than you already know.”

  “What does it feel like when you have to defuse a bomb?”

  “Well, that part you get used to. It’s what you’ve been trained to do. The worst is always what we call the ‘long walk’ when you have to slowly approach the bomb. That’s when your heart beats faster. You don’t know if it’s been booby-trapped or whether it’s going to explode in your face before you get to it, and that’s always the worst part. I suppose it must be a bit like the bridegroom waiting at the altar, unsure if the bride’s going to turn up!”

  “It’s the bride who has to do the long walk, not the groom,” Jane replied, but Dexter was silent.

  She put her hand on his chest and felt the steady rhythm of his breathing, knowing that he was asleep. She didn’t want to move and all the tension and paranoia she had felt that afternoon and evening evaporated. She was safe, cushioned by Dexter’s warmth, and she quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Dexter had already showered and dressed by the time she woke up. He sat next to her on the edge of the bed, waking her with a start. She smiled and closed her eyes again.

  “There’s coffee brewing. Your shirt’s dry, but your skirt stinks. If I were you I’d make a quick detour to your flat to get some clean clothes, then drive to Scotland Yard. You did say you had your car here?”

  “Yes,” She opened her eyes again. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah. I want to get to Crowley and set up the meeting, then go over everything before you get there.”

  Jane sat up, still feeling rather disorientated. “What time is it?”

  “Six thirty. Just shut the front door after you when you leave. I’ll see you at Crowley’s office about 9am.”

  Dexter was gone before Jane had time to say anything. She was disappointed at his hasty exit, but forced herself to do exactly what he had asked of her. She dressed in her less than fragrant clothes, and then drank half a cup of coffee before leaving his flat. Jane took Dexter’s James Dean t-shirt with her so that she could wash and return it, but she also liked having something of his. As the t-shirt lay on the passenger seat beside her it was a reminder, not only of their lengthy discussion about Natalie Wilde, but also about their passionate love-making. All Jane could think about being safely wrapped in his arms again, but as she got closer to home she began to feel very nervous. She knew that the meeting with Crowley was going to be one of the most difficult experiences she had faced.

  Jane dressed in clean clothes and was ready to leave when the phone rang. She hoped it might be Dexter, but it was DCI Church.

  “Jane, it’s Church. I know you tried to reach me through the station last night, but when I called you back there was no answer.”

  “I’m sorry. I just needed to talk something through with you.”

  “I know, Dexter’s already told me. I’ll collect you in about fifteen minutes and drive you to HQ. We’re setting up a big meeting in Crowley’s office and I just thought you might need some support. It’s important that you handle yourself well. We’ll all be looking out for you Jane, so just stay calm . . . and check that it’s me before you come down to your front door, all right?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be ready and waiting, sir.”

  Jane replaced the receiver, and looked at her watch. It was still only eight thirty and DCI Church’s call, instead of reassuring her, had made her stomach churn. She had only had a few gulps of coffee at Dexter’s flat earlier, and after being sick the night before she was worried that she might not be able to focus on an empty stomach. She quickly made herself two slices of plain toast and swallowed down a couple of aspirins with a glass of milk. She went into the bathroom and cleaned her teeth, checking her pressed white shirt and black slimline pencil skirt to make sure they were in order. By the time she had put on her jacket and picked up her handbag and briefcase, the doorbell rang.

  Jane peered through her bedroom window and saw DCI Church standing beside his car. She took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway, locking her front door and heading down the stairs. She opened the main front door and Church turned to give her a warm smile, waiting as she closed the door behind her.

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said, as she climbed into the passenger seat beside him.

  Church started the engine and gave her a sidelong glance.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Dexter took care of you, did he?”

  She blushed and hated the fact that she wasn’t able to disguise it. She stared ahead.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “It’s not going to be easy this morning. Just answer everything clearly, and don’t think you have to make any excuses. We just need to know the facts. Don’t embroider anything, just tell it straight down the line.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t let Crowley unnerve you. All you have to know is that he’ll be keen to establish whether or not we might have a breakthrough in Natalie Wilde. So be confident about your suspicions, and don’t worry that you may have fucked up.”

  Jane couldn’t help laughing, and shook her head. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel reassured! I’m really worried that this might have damaged my career.”

  “No way. If you’re proved right, this could be your ticket to the Flying Squad,” he said, smiling encouragingly.

  “I’m just very concerned after the Pearl situation, and now this . . .”

  He tapped her arm. “Listen, Crowley’s position on the bomb squad is in jeopardy unless he gets results. Your mistakes could reflect badly on him, but if Natalie leads us to the ASU and arrests are made, cock-ups can be overlooked.”

  Jane tried to relax, which was exactly what DCI Church had intended.

  What he didn’t add was that she was going to be under enormous pressure about having unwittingly disclosed information that could have placed officers at risk. Jane’s career in the CID could very well be over—and if this was yet another example of her unprofessionalism, he would aid Crowley in kicking her out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arriving at Scotland Yard, Jane left Church and went straight to DCI Crowley’s office. He invited her to take a seat and walked over to a trolley with a hot water urn on it and five or six dirty cups alongside a few clean ones.

  “Water’s a bit tepid but is instant coffee all right for you? All the tea’s gone now.”

  “Yes, thank you. Milk and no sugar, please.” She realized from his remark and the dirty cups that he must have had an earlier meeting. It had probably been about her cock-up.

  Crowley poured a coffee, placed it on the table in front of her, then sat down at his desk before opening a notebook and picking up his pen.

  “Right, WDC Tennison, let’s go over everything from the moment you met Natalie Wilde in the hospital. This time really concentrate on everything she said or asked.”

  “I told DS Dexter everything. Has he not spoken with you?”

  “Yes, and I made notes,” he tapped the book with his pen, “but under the circumstances you may have been hesitant with Dexter about exactly how much information Wilde was able to get from you, so I want to go over everything again in fine detail.”

  Jane wondered what he meant by “under the circumstances.” Was he implying he knew she had spent the night at Dexter’s flat, or simply the fact she had been distraught about the whole situation? Crowley opened a packet of Player’s cigarettes. He lit one, then offered the pack to Jane who shook her head. />
  “I don’t smoke, sir.”

  Again, Jane recounted meeting Natalie at the hospital. She explained that it had taken a moment for her to recognize Natalie from their Hendon days. Jane spoke slowly, trying to remember each time she had met Natalie, the conversations they had had and any probing questions she had asked. Then something struck Jane as unusual.

  “There is something about the first time we met at the hospital, but I’m not sure if it’s relevant.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, Tennison, so come on, spit it out.”

  “At the hospital, Natalie said she was visiting a friend who’d just had a baby, but she wasn’t carrying any flowers, chocolates or any kind of gift. She didn’t even say if it was a boy or girl.”

  Crowley was taking notes as Jane spoke. “Good. Anything else strange about that first meeting with her?”

  Jane thought about what she’d learned on the Dip Squad. “I remember she bumped into me on the same floor that Daphne was on and asked me what I was doing at the hospital, but the maternity ward is on the ground floor. She distracted me by bumping into me so that I didn’t notice she wasn’t in the right place.”

  “If she’d seen the paper then she’d know you had been at Covent Garden, so the bump was probably a deliberate ploy. Anything else?”

  “Yes, she said she was interested in finding out what all our old Hendon classmates were doing now.”

  “What’s strange about that?”

  “She’s never once asked me about them since then. She was more interested in me and what I was doing, but I just didn’t see it as suspicious at the time.”

  Crowley moved on and asked Jane when she next saw Natalie.

  “It was at an Italian restaurant I know called Fratelli’s.”

  “Did you drink much?”

  “A couple of glasses of wine. Why?”

  “Alcohol loosens the tongue Tennison. Did you say anything about Daphne Millbank or the phone box witness?”

  Jane was upset by his remark. “I wasn’t drunk, sir, it was a friendly meal together and I never discussed my work at all.”