“I thought you were dealing with the house-to-house forms.”
“I spoke to DI Kingston and he wants you, as a DS, to check them and raise any further action if it’s needed,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
She wondered if he was lying because he was too lazy to check them himself.
“Then why didn’t Kingston tell me personally?”
Cam shrugged. “Probably because you were with DCI Murphy when I spoke to him. I expect he’ll want to go over the results of the house-to-house during the meeting.”
“Right, we can get the meeting started, now WDS Tennison has honored us with her presence,” Murphy’s voice boomed out as he strode into the squad room, followed by DI Kingston.
Cam had a smug look as he spoke to Jane. “Don’t panic, I’ve looked through the forms and there’s nothing that needs an urgent follow-up and I’ve told Kingston about the owner of garage 29.”
“Can someone grab the flip chart and felt pens?” Murphy asked.
Seeing she was nearest, Jane went to get it but, as she picked up the two pens, Katie suddenly snatched them out of her hand.
“DCI Murphy likes me to write the salient points on the flip chart at office meetings since I’m the only one with legible handwriting.”
Jane was taken aback by her petulance.
“I was only going to carry it over, not write—”
“That’s kind of you,” Katie said, scampering off to position herself next to Murphy.
“Stupid bloody woman!” Jane muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Murphy coughed to clear his throat.
“Right, I’d like to go through this morning’s robbery step by step. I don’t normally have to remind you of this, but for the benefit of our new arrival, DS Tennison—what is said within these four walls remains within these four walls.” He looked at Jane, who nodded.
Murphy continued, “DI Kingston has already briefed me on what the landlady of the Crown told him. It would seem she’s our best witness as she at least got a look at the driver of the Cortina. Anyway, Stewart, can you tell us what she saw and give us the description of the driver?”
Kingston got out his pocket notebook but said he’d yet to take a full statement from Fiona. The artist’s impression of the driver was being done at 5 p.m., so it should be with them in the morning for circulation. He went over what Fiona had told him and when he gave the description of the driver he spoke slowly, so Katie could write it on the flip chart. As Kingston was about to continue the Colonel spoke up.
“You might like to add ‘shit-hot driver’ to that description—”
“Why would that be, Colonel?” Murphy asked.
“I spoke to the driver of Juliet 1 before he was carted off in the ambulance. He’s an experienced Class 1 driver himself and said the driver of the Cortina knew how to handle the car at high speeds.”
Katie wrote “shit-hot driver” on the flip chart, which made the Colonel chuckle.
“ ‘Good driving skills’ would have been fine,” Kingston told her with a smile.
Katie looked flustered. “I assumed those were the exact words the police driver used.”
Kingston continued, “The landlady said the driver was late thirties to mid-forties. The collar on his donkey jacket was pulled up and he wore a gray cloth cap, pulled forward as if trying to conceal his face. When the three men got out of the car they walked in an ‘A’ formation. She thought the man at the front was about five foot ten, and the one behind on his right was about the same—he carried the sawn-off in his right hand. The third man, who got out of the front passenger seat, was about six foot two, wearing a light-colored stocking mask and had some sort of gun in his right hand.”
Jane flicked through her pocket notebook. Abby had said the tall man was wearing a mask over his face, but when Jane asked if it was a balaclava she said yes. Of course, being distressed at the time, she might have been mistaken.
“Can any of the guards help us with a detailed description of the handgun?” Murphy asked, but there was no immediate reply.
Dabs raised his hand. “DS Tennison found some spent nine-mill cartridge cases before I got to the Woodville Road scene. The stamp on the cases revealed they were made in 1943.”
“So, we’re maybe looking for a World War Two semi-automatic?” DC Baxter asked.
“Not necessarily—the bullets may be old, but the gun could be newish and capable of firing old nine-mill bullets. Tennison and I also recovered two bullets that were in reasonable shape and had rifling marks for comparison testing against any guns we recover. Once the firearms section at the lab have done their forensic examinations, I should be able to tell you more.”
“What else was on the cartridge case, Dabs?” the Colonel asked.
“ST+ and DNH.”
“ST+ is for improved steel cases and DNH means the casings were made in Germany—but don’t ask me what part,” the Colonel added.
Dabs looked impressed. “I don’t doubt your knowledge as an ex-soldier, Colonel, but I’ll get the lab to double-check.”
The Colonel frowned. “Ex-Marine, thank you, Dabs.”
“Good job, Dabs, and it’s something for the lab to work on,” Murphy said.
It was considerate of Dabs to mention her work at the scene but Jane felt Murphy had deliberately avoided acknowledging her part in assisting him. Murphy asked the three detectives who had taken statements from the security guards to read out the salient points.
The Colonel, who had interviewed the van driver, spoke first. Jane found it chilling to hear how the robber with a sawn-off shotgun said, “You so much as twitch and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“How did the driver describe his voice?” Murphy asked the Colonel.
“He thought it was a London accent and at first the voice was deep, but high-pitched after he shot the off-duty officer and said, ‘The fucking idiot tried to get the gun off me.’ He said the robber’s eyes were dark colored and the bits of eyebrow he could see were light brown. He was about the same height as the off-duty PC who got shot, which according to his police file is five foot ten—”
“Good, that’s two people putting him at the same height,” Murphy said.
“Anything about the way the robber walked?” Kingston asked.
“No, Guv, the driver didn’t see him approaching and when the robber shot the PC he wound up the window and lay across the front seats shitting himself that he was next.”
Kingston went over what the off-duty PC had told him about tackling the man with the sawn-off shotgun: how the officer thought he was going to die when he heard the gun go off and felt what he thought were lead pellets hit his stomach.
“Poor lad’s lucky to be alive, but at least he’ll think twice before doing something like that again,” Kingston said.
“I expect he won’t be having the egg fried rice next time he has a Chinky takeaway,” the Colonel added, raising a few chuckles.
Murphy asked who’d dealt with the guard in the back of the van and DC Baxter raised his hand.
“There was nothing of real value from him as he didn’t look out of his viewing window while the robbery was going down. He put the first box in the chute and thought it was being delivered to the bank. He was reading a paper while waiting for the second coded knock on the van, which means it’s safe to send out the next cash box. When he heard his colleague say, ‘You can send out the other case’ without knocking, he knew something was wrong and set off the van’s alarm. He then heard the shotgun go off and stayed where he was until the lids arrived.”
“Lids” was a CID term to referring to the uniform officers who were first on scene.
“Well, you’ve had an easy day, Bax,” Murphy joked.
“I tried to string his statement out to three pages, Guv, but I didn’t think you’d want to know about him spewing his breakfast up all over the back of the van.”
Murphy laughed. “Who interviewed the guard who was carrying the cash box?�
��
Stanley raised his hand and waved a lengthy statement he was holding.
“This poor guy literally shit himself when the barrel of the gun was put against his forehead—”
“Just take us through what he saw and heard, Stanley, not his bowel movements, thank you,” Murphy said, to general laughter.
“Couldn’t he give a good description of the gun?” the Colonel asked.
“Not really, other than the barrel was round, black and had what he described as a fin on the tip of it—understandably he closed his eyes when it was first put to his forehead.”
“That might be a Luger,” the Colonel commented. “A Luger barrel is round and has a sight tip on the end, whereas with many semi-automatics the barrel is an oblong shape. Dabs also mentioned the 43 and DNH stamps on the cartridge case, meaning the ammunition was German. A Luger can also fire nine-mill ammo. Don’t take my word for it, though, Dabs.”
“Good point,” Murphy said. “Dabs, make sure the firearms section at the lab are aware of the Luger idea and keep me and DI Kingston updated with the results.”
Dabs nodded, and Murphy asked Stanley to continue.
“The guard was still on his knees with the gun to his forehead when the unarmed man said, ‘Last chance, son. Tell him to put the other fucking cases in the chute.’ The voice was calm, but gravelly, as if he maybe had a sore throat. His eyes were brown, and his stare was ‘pure evil,’ he reckoned. The next thing he heard was the van’s alarm going off, followed by the shotgun blast—then when he saw the two robbers run to the front of the van he legged it into the bank.”
Jane put her hand up.
“Yes, Tennison?” Murphy sighed.
“I just wondered if the guard said anything about smelling smoke on the unarmed man?”
“They didn’t set light to the car until after the robbery, Tennison,” Murphy shot back.
“I meant tobacco smoke—”
“No, he didn’t,” Stanley put in.
“Did you ask?” Jane enquired.
Stanley showed his annoyance. “I know how to take a victim statement, Jane. I asked the guard if the robber had bad breath and he said no, so for me that means it didn’t smell of smoke.”
Murphy sighed. “Whether or not this person is a smoker doesn’t really help the investigation at this stage.”
Jane was determined to make her point.
“A witness who lives at Edgar House saw two men walking towards Felstead Road not long after the robbery and thought she smelt cigar smoke. They caught her eye because one of them was carrying a duffle bag like one she bought her grandson for Christmas.”
“Any description of the men?” Murphy asked.
Jane got out her pocket notebook to check what the uniform sergeant had said.
“I didn’t speak to her personally, but she thought the men were about five feet nine, one was dark-haired and the other lighter colored. She thinks the one carrying the bag had a blue jacket on—”
“The blaggers were all dressed in dark coveralls and donkey jackets,” the Colonel said bluntly.
“Actually, we found evidence of burnt clothing in the boot of the Cortina,” Dabs said, “which suggests they may have changed clothes in the garage—”
Murphy interrupted. “Is there a description for these two men?”
“She only saw them from behind, but if they were involved in the robbery, they may have had a second getaway car parked nearby.”
Murphy looked unimpressed.
“We could always do an ID parade where the witness looks at the back of the suspects’ heads.” The Colonel laughed, and some of the others joined in.
“Thank you for your input, Tennison, but I’d like to move on to the three crime scene examinations.”
“I found a cigar butt in Felstead Road and there was one—”
Murphy interrupted her. “The fact one of our suspects may smoke cigars is not incriminating evidence, Tennison, so move on to the scene examinations.”
“SOCO Morgan and I examined the crash site and the burnt-out car—”
Murphy held up his hand again. “I am aware of that, but I’d like Dabs to take me through it.”
Jane could feel herself getting worked up, but bit her lip, knowing that standing up to Murphy would only make him come down even harder on her.
Dabs opened the exhibits book to use as a reference.
“DS Tennison also found two fresh blood drop trails in Woodville Road running from a car’s skid mark, which we believe was left by the Cortina.”
“How do you think they got there?” Kingston asked.
“Sergeant Tennison has a theory on that,” Dabs said, looking over at Jane.
She checked her notes. “A young girl was in Woodville Road when she saw the Cortina hit a parked car at speed then skid to an abrupt halt. A tall man wearing a balaclava got out of the front passenger side, then walked into the middle of the road and started shooting at Juliet 1. Having fired four times he returned to the Cortina, which then left the scene. It’s possible that this man was injured at some point during the car chase and left the blood trails.”
Dabs spoke up. “I took swabs and will get them tested for blood grouping. Thanks to Sergeant Tennison’s perceptive thinking we also recovered some blood on the front passenger door sill of the burnt-out Cortina.”
“Can I see the exhibits book?” Murphy asked, and Dabs handed it to him.
“There’s more,” Dabs said, getting their attention again. “She also thought to call out a traffic officer to examine the car’s chassis plate in situ, and as a result we now know it was reported stolen and who the owner is.”
There was silence in the room as Murphy looked through the book.
“I see the traffic officer took the ignition barrel out of the Cortina—why was that?” he asked Dabs, who again looked at Jane.
“I asked him if there was any sign that the Cortina had been hot-wired or if a screwdriver had been used to start the ignition,” Jane explained. “He was positive it hadn’t been hot-wired and took the barrel for microscopic examination to see if the inside had signs of screwdriver damage.”
Dabs smiled, realizing that she’d twisted things slightly to make herself look good.
“If we know the car was nicked how does damage to the ignition barrel help us?” Cam asked dismissively.
“It’s the opposite—” Dabs said.
“What do you mean the opposite?”
“Sometimes it’s obvious why you’re OFD,” the Colonel said. “If it wasn’t hot-wired and there’s no damage to the barrel then a key must have been used to start it—which would suggest . . .” He paused, waiting for Cam to answer.
“That maybe the car wasn’t stolen, and the owner’s lied for some reason.”
“Finally, you’re thinking like a detective,” the Colonel said, and Cam gave him a “piss off” look.
Jane held up a bit of paper. “The owner reported his Cortina stolen two weeks ago.”
She handed it to Kingston, who said he knew where Mount Pleasant Road was as he’d worked at Tottenham as a DI, but didn’t recognize the name of the owner.
“This Frank Braun needs to be spoken to asap,” Kingston said.
Stanley volunteered to visit the address with the Colonel after the meeting. Murphy said it was best to wait until they had the result of the examination of the car’s ignition barrel and handed Kingston the exhibits book.
“I see you also seized the burnt-out garage door lock.”
“I thought that if we arrested any suspects with garage keys, we could test them against the lock,” she explained.
Kingston nodded his approval. “Seems you have a good working knowledge of forensics.”
“I’ve had the privilege of working alongside an experienced lab liaison sergeant at several murder scenes—DS Paul Lawrence.”
“He’s regarded as the best in the Met,” Dabs chipped in.
Kingston looked at Murphy. “I think it might be a good id
ea if DS Tennison continues to work alongside Dabs on this investigation.”
Murphy reluctantly agreed, but Jane wasn’t sure whether they were trying to help her fit in or put her in a role where she would be distanced from the team’s outside enquiries and surveillance duties. Again, the thought crossed her mind that there might be things about their working methods they didn’t want her to see or hear.
“Can you continue supervising the house-to-house enquiries as well?” Kingston asked.
Jane was quick to say, “Yes, sir,” making it hard for Murphy to object to his second in command. She suspected Cam had lied to her about Kingston saying he was to run the house-to-house.
“Good, and if you need any assistance, let me know.” Kingston smiled.
“After I briefed the uniform sergeant, ADC Murray offered to oversee the house-to-house for me,” she informed him.
Kingston looked surprised. “Did he now?”
Jane nodded. “I haven’t had a chance to check the completed house-to-house for further actions yet, but I believe Cam can bring you up to speed.” She gave Cam a sideways look.
Kingston knew something was up. “In that case he can continue helping you . . . when we don’t need him to drive us somewhere.”
“Anything of interest come up during the house-to-house, Cam?” Murphy asked.
“Er, yes,” Cam began nervously. “The owners of garage 29 are in their late sixties, living at flat 40 Edgar House, and the male occupant was in hospital recovering from a cataract operation and hadn’t used the garage for some time. He’d loaned the car to his daughter.”
“How many of the flats still need to be visited?” Kingston asked.
“Er . . . quite a few. A lot of the occupants were presumably at work.”
Jane knew Cam was waffling as he hadn’t checked the forms, and decided to interject.
“Enquiries are still being made by the late-shift uniform officers. However, there are two blocks of flats opposite Edgar House where I feel it might be worth making—”
Murphy held his hand up. “You can discuss the house-to-house with DI Kingston after the meeting. Right, do we know how much they got away with?”
Baxter held up the statement he’d taken.
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