Jane took a step forward, but Edwards said he’d do it and grabbed a pair of protective gloves from Lawrence’s forensic bag. As they turned the body over, Jane shone her torch on the victim, lighting up her contorted face and the rope round her neck. The strangulation had caused her tongue to protrude and her eyes were puffed and swollen. The victim wore little makeup, and looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties. She was medium height, with brown shoulder length hair parted down the middle, and was wearing a pink blouse, which was torn, and her bra was pulled up over her breasts.
Lawrence pointed to the pavement area where the body had been lying. “It’s dry underneath her,” he observed.
“The sleet started about 3 a.m.,” Jane said.
“Then it’s reasonable to assume she was killed before then.”
“How can you be sure it was 3 a.m., Tennison?” Moran snapped, tapping the ground with the steel tip of his umbrella.
Jane got her notebook out of her inside coat pocket. “We’d just stopped a vehicle and I recorded the details and time in my notebook. I remember the sleet starting as I was taking the driver’s details . . . Let me find it.” She flicked through the pages. “Ah—here it is. Time of stop, 3:03 a.m.”
“Well, I want it checked out with the London weather office in case it becomes critical to the case,” said Moran. “The body is a stone’s throw from Peckham Rye railway station. She might have been out late Friday night and attacked in the alleyway if using it as a cut through to Copeland Road.”
Lawrence shrugged. “She might have thrown it away, but there was no train ticket on her. She may have been walking from the Copeland Road end and heading toward Rye Lane. The fact there were no house keys on her could suggest she was returning home and expecting someone to let her in.”
Moran nodded. “We can put out a press appeal with the victim’s description and ask if anyone recalls seeing her on the train Friday night. Also we can run a check with Missing Persons for anyone matching her description.”
“Already in hand, sir,” Jane said, without receiving so much as a thank you back. She glanced at Edwards, reminding herself to check exactly what description he had given to Missing Persons.
Lawrence crouched down next to the body, looked at Moran and pointed to the victim’s torn blouse. “There’s four buttons missing. I only recovered three beside the body and there’s no more underneath her.”
Edwards raised his finger. “Tennison and I had a good look up and down the alley before DS Lawrence arrived and we didn’t see any more buttons.”
Lawrence stood up. “Best we check the soles of our shoes in case one of us has accidently trodden on it and it’s got lodged in the tread. It won’t be the first time something has unintentionally been removed from a crime scene in that way. When you see the market trader who found her, check his footwear as well.” Everyone checked the soles of their shoes.
“Someone tread in dog shit?”
Jane turned around. Spencer Gibbs was wearing a trendy full-length brown sheepskin coat. His hands were deep in the pockets, pulling the unbuttoned coat around his front to keep out the cold. He had a big smile and Jane could instantly see he was looking a lot better now than when she last saw him, almost younger in fact. His hair had changed as well. It no longer stood up like a wire brush, but was combed back straight from his forehead.
Gibbs’s smile widened when he saw Jane.
She held out her hand. “Hello, Spence, you look well.”
“Jane Tennison—long time no see!” He pulled her forward to give her a hug.
Jane noticed that DCI Moran didn’t seem too impressed and wondered if Gibbs’s jovial mood was due to drink, although she couldn’t smell any alcohol.
Gibbs walked over to Moran. “Good morning, sir,” he said, and they shook hands. Gibbs’s coat fell open to reveal a blue frilled shirt, tight leather pants, blue suede shoes and a large peace sign medallion. Everyone went quiet.
Moran frowned. “So you really think that sort outfit is suitable for a senior detective, DI Gibbs?”
“Sorry, guv. I did a gig in Camden town with my band last night then stayed at my girlfriend Tamara’s pad. Thankfully I’d added her phone number to my out of hours contact list at the old station. I didn’t want to waste time by going home to change when I got the call out, so after a quick dash of Adidas aftershave, I came straight to the scene by cab.”
Gibbs’s looks and patter had become even more “rock and roll” than they used to be.
“Your band do glam rock, guv?” Edwards asked trying not to laugh at Gibbs’s dress sense.
“No, we’re more progressive. Serious rock and roll. Girlfriend’s in the band as well, looks like Debbie Harry from Blondie—she’s a real stunner.”
“Well—you look like a real poofter in that gear,” Edwards replied, earning a playful slap on the back of his head from Gibbs.
Moran coughed loudly to get Gibbs’s and Edwards’s attention. “Show a bit of respect, you two. We’re supposed to be investigating a murder, not discussing bloody music!”
“Sorry, sir,” they said in unison.
“What have you got so far?” Gibbs asked Moran.
Moran frowned. “A murder, obviously. I want you to organize house-to-house inquiries, DI Gibbs. Start with any flats in Rye Lane, and all the premises in Copeland Road. Tennison and Edwards can return to the station to write up their night duty report then go off duty.”
Jane knew that organizing house-to-house was normally a DS’s responsibility and she was keen to be part of the investigation team.
“I should have the weekend off, sir, but I’m happy to remain on duty and assist the investigation. You’ve got a DS on sick leave, one at the Old Bailey on a big trial starting Monday, and one taking over nights from me tonight. House-to-house is normally a DS’s role so I could—”
Moran interrupted her. “I’m aware of all that, Tennison. If you’re willing to work for normal pay and days off in lieu, as opposed to costly overtime, then you can head up the house-to-house. Edwards, same rule goes for you if you want to be on the investigation.”
Jane and Edwards agreed. Earning extra money was a bonus, but never a big deal when it came to a murder inquiry; it was more about being part of a challenging case.
Moran closed his notebook and put his pen back in his jacket pocket. “Right, DI Gibbs will be my number two on this investigation. We’ll head back to the station. I’ll get more detectives in from the surrounding stations and contact the Coroner’s Officer to arrange a post mortem later this morning. Tennison, you head back to the station with Edwards. Do your night duty report first, then prepare the house-to-house documents and questionnaires. You can get uniform to assist in the house-to-house, as well as the Special Patrol Group. DS Lawrence and the SOCO can finish bagging the body and examining the scene. If possible, I’d like to know who the dead woman is before the post mortem.”
“I’ll take a set of fingerprints while I’m here. Uniform can take them straight up the Yard for the fingerprint bureau to check. If she’s got a criminal record they’ll identify her,” Lawrence said.
Moran nodded his approval. As he walked off with Gibbs, Edwards turned to Jane.
“He could have poked someone’s eye out the way he was swinging that umbrella! I reckon he’s in a mood because the baby kept him up, and his wife gave him a hard time about being called in.”
Jane said nothing, but she suspected there was some truth in Edwards’s comment. Just as she was about to follow him back to the CID car, Paul called out.
“Can you grab the large role of sellotape from my forensic bag?”
He and the SOCO had wrapped the body in the white body sheet and twisted each end tight. Jane knew the procedure and helped by rolling the tape several times around each twisted end to secure them. She always found it surreal that a bagged dead body ended up looking like an enormous Christmas cracker.
“Thanks, Jane.” As the SOCO moved away, Lawrence asked, “Is
Moran always so tetchy these days?”
“Wife had a baby recently; sleepless nights are probably getting to him.”
“Well, he was wrong to have a go at you and ignore my advice. He should have called out a pathologist.”
“He was probably just asserting his authority to let us know he’s boss.”
“He might be in charge, but he’s spent most of his career on various squads like vice, so he’s not had a lot of experience in major crime or murder investigations.”
“He did solve the Hackney serial rape cases and that murder committed by Peter Allard, the cab driver,” Jane pointed out.
“Yes—but I also recall he was accused of faking Allard’s confession. If it hadn’t been for your dogged work in that case, he wouldn’t have solved it. He showered himself in glory because of you, Jane. He seems to have forgotten that you stuck your neck out for him that night in the park acting as a decoy. You were the one that got attacked by Allard, not him.”
“I know, Paul, but I think he’s mellowed since our Hackney days. Apart from this morning he’s been OK toward me.”
“Well, I’d be wary of him, Jane,” warned Lawrence. “He likes to think he knows best, which puts not only the investigation at risk, but the officers on it as well.”
A Message from Lynda La Plante . . .
If you enjoyed Good Friday, why not join the LYNDA LA PLANTE READERS’ CLUB by visiting www.bit.ly/LyndaLaPlante?
Dear Reader
Thank you very much for picking up Good Friday, the third novel in the Jane Tennison thriller series. It’s been great to see how excited readers have been to discover how the Jane Tennison of Prime Suspect started her police career, and I have loved the chance to delve deep and bring her challenging earlier story to life. I hope you have enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
What I wanted to do with the Jane Tennison series was to explore the influences that made Jane the iconic character she becomes in Prime Suspect—and to do that, I had to go back to the very beginning of her story. Jane is a rookie police detective in the 1970s and even for those of us who can remember it, it seems like another world. She must battle not only her parents’ expectations of what is and isn’t a suitable job for a woman, but the ingrained sexism of the Metropolitan police. However, from her early twenties we see the grit and determination that Jane will show in her later career—and the flair, instinct and empathy that will mark her out as an exceptional detective.
If you have enjoyed Good Friday, then please do read the first and second novels in the Jane Tennison series, Tennison and Hidden Killers, which are now available in paperback and e-book. And you might like to know that the fourth book in the series, Murder Mile, will be published in hardcover this year. It’s set in Peckham, in south London, in 1979. A series of murders take place within a one mile radius of each other. The Metropolitan police can find no pattern or connection linking the female victims. Then another victim is found, this time a young male, can Jane Tennison fit the pieces of the jigsaw together in time to stop the murderer from striking again?
And in the meantime, I’m very excited about a brand new series that I’m working on. I won’t reveal much about it now—but if you would like to hear more detail, or about the Jane Tennison thriller series, you can visit www.bit.ly/LyndaLaPlanteClub where you can join the My Readers’ Club. It only takes a few moments to sign up, there are no catches or costs and new members will automatically receive an exclusive message from me.
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And if you would like to get involved in a wider conversation about my books, please do review Good Friday on Amazon, on GoodReads, on any other e-store, on your own blog and social media accounts, or talk about it with friends, family or reader groups! Sharing your thoughts helps other readers, and I always enjoy hearing about what people experience from my writing.
Thanks again for your interest in this novel, and I hope you’ll return for Murder Mile, the fourth in the Jane Tennison series.
With my very best wishes,
Lynda
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