The Dirty Dozen

by Lynda La Plante

  Rachel signed to Emma that Nick, the owner of the cafe, might know their names as the one who might be called Tommy often comes into the cafe in the morning.

  “Does the other man go there often?” Jane asked.

  Rachel shrugged and signed.

  Emma looked at Jane. “She said maybe once or twice a week, usually on a Monday or a Friday and sometimes both.”

  “How long have you been using the cafe?” Jane asked Rachel.

  Emma waited for her to finish signing. “She said since she started working at the sorting office, which was about two years ago. She goes there most weekdays for her meal break, which is between nine and 9:45. The two men only started coming in about six months ago.”

  “I drew a plan of the inside of the cafe earlier. Can you mark with an ‘R’ where you were sitting and put ‘M1’ and ‘M2’ where the men were? The man you think might be called Tommy can be M2.” Jane handed Rachel her pocket notebook.

  She marked up the cafe plan and made some hand signs to her sister.

  “She said there were two young men sitting at the table by the wall when the two older men came in, but they must have said something as the two young men quickly moved to another table, taking their food and drinks with them.”

  “What age would you say the two older men were?”

  Emma told Jane that her sister thought the one whose lips she’d read was late forties to early fifties, and the other man was late thirties to forty.

  Jane looked at the plan. The men were seated in the far top right-hand corner, with a wall behind them and a window to the left that looked out onto Bruce Grove. Rachel had marked herself as sitting in the middle row, two tables down from them.

  “From where you were sitting, did you have a clear and unobstructed view of them both, and in particular the man who you lip-read?”

  Rachel nodded, then signed. Emma said, “Apart from when Nick, the cafe owner, walked past or was serving them breakfast.”

  “I think it might be easier for now if we continued to refer to the men as M1 and M2, then at the end I’ll get a detailed description of them. Emma, could you translate what Rachel says in the first person?”

  “You mean as if it were her speaking?”

  “Yes please.” Jane looked at Rachel. “Can you start with the time you saw the men come into the cafe, then tell me what M1 said?” Jane held her pen to her pocket notebook.

  Rachel did a thumbs-up and started signing to Emma.

  “I’m not sure as I was reading my book, but I think it was maybe between quarter past and half past nine. At one point I looked up and M1 was taking sugar lumps out of the bowl, then instead of putting them in his coffee cup he put two down next to each other in front of him on the table. I don’t normally lip-read what other people are saying as I don’t want to be nosy, but I was curious because I thought he was going to do a trick with them.”

  Jane looked at Rachel and asked her to continue signing. She looked at her notes, then to Emma, who translated.

  “The men were leaning forward close to each other, as if speaking softly, so as not to be heard. M1 picked up the salt pot and put it down next to the sugar lumps and said, ‘When the van pulls up, I’ll take the rear.’ He picked up another sugar lump, put it down on the other side of the salt pot and said, ‘You cover the front with—’ ”

  There was a pause as Rachel spelled the individual letters of the name.

  “W . . . E . . . S . . . L . . . E . . . Y?” Emma asked.

  Rachel shook her head, then picked up her notepad from the coffee table. Leaning over to Jane, she pointed to what she’d previously written.

  “M1 said, ‘You cover the front with Webley.’ Is that right?” Jane asked.

  Rachel nodded, then Jane asked them to continue.

  “M2 nodded and M1 picked up the pepper pot and slid it across the table and said, ‘We rob the van, J . . . U . . . D . . . G . . . E—Judge pulls up here and we fuck off.’ ”

  “Are you sure he said, ‘rob the van’?” Jane asked and Rachel nodded. “And how positive are you that the names M1 said were Webley and Judge?”

  Rachel raised her hand, tilted it from side to side and signed to Emma. Emma told Jane that names can be difficult to lip-read but her sister was reasonably sure M1 had said Webley and Judge and a hundred percent certain he’d said the name Tommy.

  “What do you think the sugar lumps, salt and pepper pots represented?” Jane asked, and Rachel looked at her as if it was a silly question. “I appreciate it’s reasonably obvious from the way M1 moved them, and what he said, but I don’t want to influence your thoughts by asking a leading question.”

  Rachel nodded that she understood, then with her index finger and thumb of her right hand held slightly apart, she moved them downwards in front of her body, before mimicking someone moving a steering wheel up and down.

  “She said vehicles for the sugar lumps and people for the salt and pepper?”

  Rachel frowned as she shook her head and waved her hand at Emma, indicating she was wrong, then repeated what she’d just signed.

  Emma sighed. “Sometimes she goes too fast for me. She said it’s the other way around—sugar lumps for people and condiments for vehicles.”

  Jane asked if M1 had said anything else, and Rachel slowed down as she signed to her sister.

  “She couldn’t recall all the conversation when she made her notes, but she thinks the two men were disagreeing with each other as M1 was shaking his head and said something about a loose cannon and three of them was enough.”

  Jane nodded. “Did they say anything else about how many men were involved?”

  Emma spoke as Rachel signed.

  “At one point M1 sat back in his chair, raised his hands and said, ‘All right, he’s in.’ And something about helping with the boxes and doing what he’s told. That’s all she was able to see and lip-read as Nick brought them their breakfast and she had to go back to the sorting office.”

  “Emma mentioned to me earlier that you thought one of the men might be connected to the snooker hall opposite.”

  Rachel nodded and signed to Emma.

  “She’s seen him come out of the entrance quite a few times in the morning and cross the road to the cafe while she was there.”

  “And I take it the bingo hall above would be closed at that time?” Jane asked, and Rachel nodded.

  “What you’ve told me could be very useful to us, Rachel, and you and Emma did the right thing reporting it to the police.”

  “Do you think they were involved in a robbery you’re investigating?” Emma asked.

  “It’s possible, but I’ll obviously need to do a bit more investigation to find out their identities.”

  Rachel looked concerned and signed to her sister.

  “She’s worried that if you speak to the cafe owner, he might tell them she lip-read what was said and they will know she spoke to the police.”

  “I have no intention of asking any questions about them in the cafe. The only other people who will know about our conversation are the detectives I work with on the Flying Squad. May I have a look at the notes you made of what happened at the cafe?”

  Rachel looked more relaxed as she gave the notebook to Jane, who then read it and handed it back.

  “Thanks, everything you’ve written down ties in with my notes of our conversation. I believe you went to the cafe this morning and the same two men were there?”

  Rachel nodded and signed to Emma that as usual the cafe was busy and they were sitting in the same positions as Monday. She sat on the table one down from them but could only see the lips of M1. Jane pointed to a table on the plan she’d drawn and Rachel nodded.

  “Did they talk about a robbery again?” Jane asked.

  Rachel shrugged and signed that she wasn’t sure.

  Jane got ready with her pocket notebook and pen.

  “Well, while everything is still fresh in your mind let’s go over what happened this morning. Go slowly and
tell me exactly what M1 said.”

  Rachel sat upright, put her hands on her lap, closed her eyes and started to move her head up and down and from side to side.

  “Is she all right?” Jane asked Emma.

  “It’s her way of recalling what was said. Although Rachel can’t hear she’s got a fantastic memory. She sort of goes back in time and relives the moment.”

  After a couple of minutes’ silence Rachel opened her eyes and started to sign to Emma, who translated.

  “She says they came in about half past nine again and M1 looked angry, then pointed his finger at M2 and said, ‘I told you Riley was a hothead.’ M2 said something but she couldn’t see his lips and M1 replied, ‘Yesterday was a total fuck-up.’ M2 said something about having to get a loan for Tina’s wedding as a monkey from the job wasn’t enough.”

  Jane held her hand up for Rachel to pause.

  “How sure are you he said the names Tina and Riley?”

  Rachel was sure about Tina, but not so confident about Riley.

  Jane knew a monkey was London slang for five hundred pounds, and asked Rachel if she realized it meant a sum of money. She shook her head and signed that another man walked up to the table, but because of where he stood, she then couldn’t see M1’s lips. M2 moved along a seat to let the man sit down.

  “Had you seen him in the cafe before?” Jane asked, and Rachel shrugged. “Can you describe him and what he was wearing?”

  Emma translated her reply. “She says she never got a look at his face as he had his back to her. He was quite tall, maybe three or four inches more than you, with dark slicked-back hair that was neatly cut. He wore a knee-length brown camel hair coat, which had a black suede collar, and was carrying a black leather briefcase.”

  “Did M1 say anything to him when he sat down?”

  “Not at first. The man sat down, put the briefcase on the table, then opened it and took out a large brown envelope, which he handed to M1, who put it on the table beside him without opening it. Then M1 said something about not letting him down and they shook hands.”

  Jane held her hand up for them to pause while she wrote in her pocket notebook.

  “Did M1 and the man have any more conversation?”

  Rachel signed to Emma.

  “M1 said something about having a nice X . . . J . . . S on the front and asked the man if he was interested, and the man nodded.”

  “Did you notice if there was a Jaguar car outside the cafe?”

  Rachel looked puzzled. Emma explained that they knew nothing about the makes or models of cars, but she did see him get into a vehicle parked on the opposite side of Bruce Grove and drive off towards the High Road.

  “Can you describe his car?” Jane asked.

  Rachel shrugged as she signed to Emma.

  “She said it was a shiny maroon color, quite long, with one door on the side and expensive-looking.”

  “Did you see his face as he left?”

  Rachel shook her head and signed that Nick, the cafe owner, came to the table to take away her dirty plate and was wiping the table down as the man left, so she couldn’t see his face clearly.

  “Did M1 and M2 have any further conversation after the man in the camel hair coat left?”

  Rachel nodded and signed to Emma.

  “M2 tried to take the envelope from M1, but he pulled it away and said something about ‘champagne and caviar for life.’ He folded the envelope in half and put it in the pocket of his coat, which was on the back of his chair.”

  Jane knew that the conversation M1 had had with M2 and the man in the camel hair coat wasn’t obviously about a robbery. In fact, it seemed more likely they were discussing a business deal that had gone wrong and the man in the camel hair coat was offering them another one that could be more successful.

  “Did M1 say anything else?”

  Rachel shook her head and said that he just said some stuff about how Tina’s wedding was costing him a fortune. Then she left the cafe and went back to work.

  “Are there any other people you’ve seen sitting with M1 and 2?”

  Rachel signed that a younger, attractive, blond-haired man, who was maybe late twenties or early thirties, had been in a few times when M1 and M2 were there. But she had never paid attention to any of them until Monday, when she saw M1 moving the sugar cubes and condiments about.

  “What I need now is a description of M1 and M2. If it’s easier than signing you can write them down in my pocket notebook for me. You’ve given me their ages, so all I need now is their height, hair and eye color, any notable facial features and what they were wearing.”

  Rachel signed to Emma.

  “She said she could draw their faces for you if you like.”

  “That’s a great idea, but I’m a bit pressed for time right now as I have to get back to the office and type up a report. I could pick the drawings up from you at work on Monday, if that’s OK?”

  Rachel nodded. Jane asked if she would mind sitting beside her on the sofa, so she could read the descriptions, and if necessary, ask questions as she wrote them down. Rachel moved over beside Jane, who handed her the police pocket notebook and pen.

  “Do M1 first.”

  Rachel wrote:

  Five feet 11 inches, brown swept back thick hair with grey streaks at the sides above his ears and dark eyes, brown or green maybe. Slim, well-built and looks fit for his age. Dresses smartly, often in a pinstripe blue or gray suit, shirt and tie and sometimes wears a shiny green coat.

  “When you say a green coat, can you describe it in more detail for me, please, like the length, style and number of pockets?” Jane was thinking about the Barbour jacket Rita Brown from Edgar House had seen.

  Rachel thought about it for a few seconds, then wrote:

  Mid-thigh length, with a brown corduroy collar, big pockets at the front and two breast pockets, and a zip fastener up the middle and I think some metal studs as well.

  Jane smiled, pleased with how much detail Rachel could recall. Rachel then began writing a description of M2:

  An inch or two shorter than M1, dark blond hair which covers his ears, with a parting to the right, sideburns, blue eyes, dimple chin and similar build to M1. Often wears a shirt, dark jumper and black trousers or a black button-up leather jacket and black turtleneck jumper, with a long gold chain around his neck and gold pendant hanging from it.

  “Can you describe it?”

  Rachel held her hands in a fist shape and jabbed them back and forth.

  “A boxer?” Jane asked. Rachel pointed to her hand, then made out she was putting something on it. “A boxing glove?”

  Rachel shook her head and held two fingers up.

  “A pair of boxing gloves?”

  She nodded with a smile and held her thumb up.

  “Thanks, they’re very good descriptions. What about the younger man you said sometimes joins them—can you describe him in a bit more detail?” Rachel wrote:

  Same height as M2, blue eyes, wavy blond hair down to his shoulders, slim and very good looking. Usually wears a T-shirt and jeans or a polo shirt with a little emblem of a crocodile or man on a horse on the left breast.

  “I must say, you’re very observant.”

  “She is when he goes to the cafe. She’s told me about him before and I think she fancies him,” Emma said, and her sister glared at her.

  “He sounds a bit like M2—do they look like they may be related?”

  Rachel shrugged and signed they might be, and that she’d seen M1 give the younger man a large bundle of money on one occasion.

  “How big was the bundle?”

  She held her fingers about six inches apart and signed that she thought they were twenty-pound notes as they were purple.

  “That’s quite a big sum of money by the sounds of it. Have you noticed if any of these men smoke?”

  Rachel signed that M2 smoked cigarettes and M1 smoked a big cigar, and she didn’t like the smell as it put her off her food.

  “T
his may sound like a silly question, but can you tell people’s accents from the way their mouths move?”

  Emma answered for Rachel. “Accents are really hard for lip-readers to detect, but sometimes they can get an idea from the words and phrases people use.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Someone from Liverpool might say hozzy instead of hospital, but I think it’s safe to say from what my sister told us that M1 had a London accent.”

  Rachel nodded in agreement.

  “I know you’re not very good on vehicles, Rachel, but have you ever seen M1, M2 or the young man you mentioned in a car?”

  Rachel signed that the only one she’d ever seen in a vehicle was the good-looking young man, when he was parking outside the cafe in a big white van. Jane put her notebook and pen in her bag and told Rachel she’d like to take the notes she had made back to the Flying Squad office as evidence, in case it was related to her investigation.

  “Can you tell us anything about the robbery you’re investigating?” Emma asked.

  “Yes. It’s been in the papers and happened yesterday in Leytonstone High Road. A Securicor van was robbed at gunpoint and a police car crashed into a house while chasing the suspects,” Jane said, deliberately not mentioning that guns had been fired.

  “And do you think the men in the cafe might be responsible?” Emma asked.

  “I can’t say at this stage, but I can tell you that some of the things Rachel said are of interest to the investigation. Like I said earlier, there’s no need for either of you to be worried. Believe me, you did the right thing by telling us—police work would be much easier if there were more upstanding citizens like you two. If there are any developments, I’ll let you know. I may need Rachel to look through some police mugshot albums of known criminals at Scotland Yard. Would you be willing to do that, Rachel?”

  Jane picked up the way Rachel nervously signed to her sister and there was a moment before Emma replied.

  “Of course. It’s the right thing to do,” Emma said, looking at her sister.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jane decided to go to Tottenham Police Station and speak to the collator, a uniform PC who maintained records of local criminals and gleaned information from various sources, including uniform beat officers, the CID and the public. She knew that station collators had usually worked at least twenty years on a division, and often provided invaluable information to serious crime investigations. It was late afternoon and the collator was putting a coat on as Jane entered his office.