Jane lifted back the front cover of the flip chart, revealing the pairings and bullet points outlining their tasks.
“Tomorrow morning Teflon and I will visit Nick, the Bluebird cafe owner, to see what he can tell us, and we’ll also look for a suitable single observation point that overlooks the cafe and snooker hall. The Colonel and Bax, apart from revisiting Braun, will also identify the car dealerships on Tottenham’s division and check the keyholders’ cards and Companies House to see if they can identify the owners or persons connected to the premises.”
“If you reckon Braun is kosher, show him the artist’s impression of the getaway driver and the description the pub landlady gave us,” Kingston added. “Same with the cafe owner.”
“Have you arranged for the landlady to look through mugshots at the Yard?” Murphy asked him.
“They’re making an album up of convicted robbers matching the impression and description. She can only do Monday morning, but I’m in court, so maybe Jane could go with her as they’ve already met.”
“Fine, but I want it done and not put off to another day,” Murphy added.
Jane flicked over to the next page.
“Stanley and Dabs will be visiting the Bruce Grove snooker club on the pretext of joining—”
“What have they done to get the cushy job?” Bax asked.
“Dabs doesn’t look like Old Bill and Stanley has a lot of previous experience in undercover work,” Jane replied.
“Is that a polite way of saying Dabs is a short-arse and Stanley’s nondescript?” the Colonel asked, raising a few laughs.
Murphy looked at Stanley. “I suggest you get rid of that moustache before you go there.”
“Have a heart, Guv—it took me ages to grow it,” Stanley pleaded.
“And it will take you less than a minute to shave it off,” Murphy retorted.
“What am I doing?” Cam asked.
“As Katie’s off sick, I need someone to man the office.”
Cam’s expression couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Jane continued, “There are some important background enquiries that need to be done on the phone regarding the Wilson sisters, and PNC checks on names the others may call in with.”
She went around the room handing out the action sheets.
“Are we working the weekend voluntarily or without notice for double pay?” Cam asked.
“Seeing as we’ve got something positive to go on, I’ll allow time and a half and no more than ten hours max. If you work beyond that then it’s got to be taken as time in lieu,” Murphy told him.
Cam smiled. “Answering the phone doesn’t seem quite so bad, then.”
“I’ve got a report you can type up if you get bored,” Bax joked.
Dabs raised his hand. “If we can get a cup or glass that any of the suspects used in the cafe, I can dust them for prints and see if we get a match through fingerprint bureau.”
“Good thinking, Dabs,” Jane said. “I was hoping to go undercover as a waitress in the cafe for a couple of days, so I could do it then.”
“That’s a bit risky, isn’t it—?” the Colonel said.
Jane was quick to answer back. “I did waitressing before I joined the Met, but if you feel you could do a better job in a wig and apron then be my guest!”
“I’m not having a dig at you,” the Colonel insisted. “What I’m saying is if the men in your report are involved in the robbery, the slightest whiff of a copper could ruin everything.”
Murphy held a hand up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll decide if and when any UC work is to be done in the cafe, Tennison. For now, just ask the owner to put anything they’ve touched to one side after he clears their table.”
Jane was upset but didn’t show it.
“I was going to visit Abby Jones at her home address and get a statement from her. She’s the seventeen-year-old who witnessed the patrol car being shot at.”
Murphy looked apprehensive. “Right now, I’d rather not put an unreliable teenager through the trauma of being a witness to an armed robbery. Let’s see how the next couple of days pan out and I’ll reconsider you visiting her.”
“Yes, sir,” Jane said, understanding his concern.
“Anything else?” No one said anything. “Then I suggest you all head off home and get some sleep.” He closed his pocket notebook.
“We got much left in the whip, Sarge?” Bax asked Stanley.
“Enough for another round at least.”
“Guv, you fancy a quick pint before last orders?”
Murphy shrugged. “Go on then, but no talking shop—you never know who’s listening . . . or lip-reading,” he added with a smile.
“Anyone else up for it?” Stanley asked, and only Kingston declined.
“I’ll give it a miss, thanks, my stomach’s still a bit dicky.”
“Hair of the dog might help,” Jane suggested, wondering if he was trying to avoid being in her company.
“Go on then.” He smiled.
Back in the pub, all the tensions and disagreements about the investigation quickly evaporated—even the mystery of Katie’s disappearance seemed to have been forgotten—as they got on with the serious business of drinking and taking the piss out of each other. It was only Murphy laying down the law, insisting the next round was going to be the last, that put a stop to the fun, knowing he didn’t want them hung-over or stinking of booze when they were out making enquiries and dealing with the public the next morning.
Stanley nudged Jane with his shoulder.
“I thought I told you to chill out and settle in gently,” he said with a grin.
“And I told you I didn’t need your advice and could make my own decisions.” She gave him a nudge back.
“You’re like a dog with a bone when you get your teeth into an investigation.”
“I’m not sure I like that comparison.”
“No offence—you used to be a soft poodle, but now you’re like a Rottweiler.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He looked around, then whispered, “Seriously, though, you’ve done some solid work today. We all thought Murphy was sending you out on a dead-end enquiry, but you turned up trumps and the rest of the team’s dead impressed.”
She whispered back, “I don’t get the impression the Colonel’s that impressed with my work—or even wants me on the team.”
“Ignore him. The Colonel likes to think he’s God’s gift to the Flying Squad. He’s just jealous that you came back with some strong leads and got Murphy’s attention. He’ll never admit you did a good job, but he did read your report and I’ll guarantee he’ll do everything he can to try and identify M1.”
She shrugged. “Hope it goes well in the club tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it—what other job would pay you time and a half to play snooker? Mind you, I might have to take a milk crate for Dabs to stand on so he can reach the table.”
Jane laughed at the thought of Dabs standing on a milk crate. It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined the Flying Squad going after bank robbers.
“Right, I’m off home,” Jane said.
“One for the road?” Stanley offered.
“No, I’m bushed. It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow if things go according to plan.”
She went over to speak to the Colonel before leaving.
“What time and where are you meeting your informant on Sunday?” she asked.
“Between 7:30 and eight in Brick Lane Market, so I’ll meet you at Rigg around seven.”
Jane knew the location. “It’s easier for me to go straight there as it’s on my route in.”
“Fine, I’ll meet you at the junction with Bethnal Green Road at 7:30, then.”
He raised his pint glass.
“You did a good job today. Safe journey home.”
Walking to her car, Jane allowed herself a pat on the back—and not just because of the leads she’d
uncovered; the fact that the team was beginning to accept her and admit she was a good detective was an even greater achievement. She heard footsteps as she unlocked the car, then saw Kingston walking towards her.
“If you’ve come to apologize about earlier again, there’s no need.”
“No, I just wanted to thank you for not telling Murphy you spoke to me before him. Turned out he guessed anyway and wasn’t that bothered.”
“Maybe I’m finally winning his confidence.”
“Don’t be too sure about that, Jane,” he cautioned. “He still doesn’t want a woman on the squad.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, he didn’t give me that impression. Why call an office meeting and praise my report in front of the team if he doesn’t want me there?”
Kingston sighed. “Look, Jane, Murphy told me you’d found out he was using Katie to spy on you, and about the fight you had with her. He knows you could drop him in the shit by making an official complaint and just wants to make sure you don’t.”
Jane wondered if it was true, or if Kingston was just trying to make out he was on her side so she’d soften towards him.
“If you’re just trying it on again, you can forget it—I’m not interested.” She got in her car.
He put his hand on the door as she tried to close it.
“I meant it when I said it wouldn’t happen again. I like you as a person—and I respect you as a detective—but believe me, if what you’ve uncovered gets positive results, Murphy will take the credit for all your hard work then drop you like a ton of bricks.”
“Leave me alone!” she said, slamming the door shut.
He pulled his hand away just in time.
“Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She started the engine, shoved it into first gear and sped off, leaving him on the pavement, shaking his head.
On the way home, she nearly went through a red light. What Kingston said had really touched a nerve. She no longer felt so sure about anything. Either he was lying about Murphy to try and get her into bed, or Murphy was just using her until he could kick her off the squad. She even began to wonder if Stanley was playing games with her when he said the rest of the team were impressed with her work. Her good mood had definitely vanished.
“Screw ’em all!” she said to herself.
From now on she was just going to focus on the investigation and keep a detailed record of everything she did, to cover her back. That way, she knew, if it was her hard work that solved the Leytonstone robbery, then no one could take it away from her.
Chapter Twenty
Jane had a cheese sandwich and a glass of wine when she got home, then went to bed, but she found it hard to get to sleep, unable to get what Kingston had said out of her mind. Eventually she gave up, got out of bed and switched on the TV, then lay on the sofa under her duvet to watch the late film. It was New Face in Hell, starring George Peppard as a private eye who’s set up for a murder by Raymond Burr. It was odd seeing Burr playing a bad guy, as she always thought of him as Ironside, the San Francisco detective in a wheelchair. The film was gripping enough to take her mind off the evening’s events but, feeling exhausted, she switched it off before the end and went back to bed. She fell asleep almost at once.
The sound of the phone ringing jolted her awake. She fumbled for the switch on the table lamp and saw the time on her alarm clock was 1 a.m. She got up to answer the phone, assuming it must be someone from the squad, but instantly recognized her brother-in-law Tony’s voice. He sounded agitated and distressed.
“Something bad has happened, Jane—I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
He sounded as if he was trying to control his breathing. She could tell he was close to tears.
“Are Nathan and Pam OK?” she asked anxiously.
“They’re fine—it’s me that’s in trouble, Jane. I really need your help.”
“Take a deep breath, speak slowly and tell me what’s happened, Tony.”
“I’ve been arrested for something I didn’t do. I’m worried the police will frame me for it,” he said, sounding even more distraught.
“I need to know why you’ve been arrested before I can help, Tony,” she said.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” she asked calmly.
Tony took a deep breath. “This woman said I sexually assaulted her . . . but I swear I didn’t.” He started to cry.
Jane was stunned. “Jesus Christ, Tony—what happened?”
She heard a male voice in the background.
“Time’s up, son. You got to go back to your cell now.”
“Please, please help me, Jane,” he begged, sounding like a broken man.
“What station are you at?” she asked quickly.
“The one in Mayfair—”
The phone went dead, and Jane realized the officer she could hear must have put the phone down. She sat on the edge of her bed in total disbelief, wondering what to do. She knew there were a few police stations in the West End, but the only one with a Mayfair address was West End Central in Savile Row.
She ran into the living room and got her Met Police pocket diary out of her shoulder bag, then, looking in the alphabetical list of police stations at the back of it, found the number for West End Central. She went back to her bedroom and was about to pick up the phone, but hesitated, wondering what she should say, as she knew the custody sergeant wouldn’t be obliged to tell her anything. She didn’t even know if Tony had requested to speak to a solicitor, but doubted it as he would only have been allowed one phone call.
“Christ, this is all I fucking need right now!”
She wondered if she should go to Pam’s house or call her. It seemed pointless, since she didn’t even know what the evidence against Tony was. The one thing she did know was that Tony had never been a violent man and had, in her eyes, always been a faithful and loving husband. He had his faults, but he was certainly no rapist. Her mind was made up; she decided to drive to West End Central Police Station and see if Tony was there, then find out for herself what the strength of the evidence against him was.
It didn’t take long to get to the police station, being just over a mile away from her flat. After parking in a back street, she was about to go through the foyer door to the front counter when she heard someone say her name.
“Are you Jane?”
She turned and saw a familiar-looking man in his mid-twenties sitting on the foyer bench.
“Do I know you?”
“I’m Noel Harper. I was Tony’s best man. We met at the wedding and I remember him telling me you were a detective. Do you work here?”
“No. I take it you know he’s been arrested?”
“Yes, I was with him at the time. I’ve been trying to find out what’s happening, but no one will tell me anything.”
She sat down beside him. “When you say you were with him . . . did you actually see what happened?”
“Yes and no, I guess. We were with a group of mates on a stag night in Leicester Square. When the pubs closed some of us went to the Empire Ballroom and this girl was all over Tony, but he wasn’t really interested in her.”
She sensed he was trying to hide something.
“What do you mean by ‘not really interested’?”
“Tony had a few dances with her, then he came back to the bar. She followed him over and asked if he’d buy her a drink.”
“How many drinks did he buy her?”
“Just the one, I think.”
“Was Tony pissed?”
“Not really.”
Jane didn’t believe him.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Noel—and I need you to be the same with me, because I’m already feeling like you’re trying to protect Tony and that’s not going to help him. He phoned me after he was arrested and sounded in a hell of a state. I don’t know what the evidence is against him, but I don’t believe Tony would d
o what he’s accused of. If I’m going to try and help him, I need to know the truth. So, I’ll ask again: was he pissed and how many drinks did he buy her?” she asked firmly.
“He was drunk but coherent and bought her two drinks.”
“Was he trying to get her pissed?”
“No, she was half-cut when we got there and wouldn’t leave Tony alone. I think he thought she might piss off if he bought her a drink, but she kept holding him by the arm and kissing his neck.”
“And did he reciprocate?”
Noel sighed. “Not at first, but when the slow music came on she dragged him back onto the dance floor. They stayed on the floor for a few songs and she was rubbing her body against his and they kissed.”
“Did he touch her sexually or anything like that while they were dancing?”
Noel nodded. “He had his hands on her backside, but that was all. When they finished dancing, she went to the toilet and he came back to the bar.”
“Did he say anything about her?”
“No, but one of the lads said she was a slapper and Tony said he was just having a bit of fun and wasn’t interested in her. I noticed he had make-up on his shirt collar and said Pam would kill him if she saw it. He went to the toilet to clean it off and the girl came back. She asked where Tony was and I said he’d gone home. She looked upset and stormed off.”
“Do you know her name?”
“No.”
“What happened when Tony came back from the toilet?”
“It was late and I didn’t want to miss the last Tube home, and Tony was staying with me so I said we needed to go. He finished his pint, then as we left the girl he’d danced with suddenly appeared. She grabbed his hand and dragged him off down the alleyway at the side of the ballroom.”
“And I take it he didn’t resist?”
“No, but he must have thought it was funny as he was laughing. I didn’t go down the alley as I thought he’d come straight out. About a minute later a policeman and policewoman were passing. They stopped and looked up the alley and must have seen them. They went into the alley and the next thing I heard was a woman’s voice screaming, ‘Help me, help me!’ I looked to see what was happening and the policeman had Tony pushed up against the wall and was putting handcuffs on him. He looked like he was in a state of shock when the policeman brought him out. I asked why he was being arrested and the officer said for indecent assault. I couldn’t believe it. I tried to tell the policeman she was lying but he told me to shut up or he’d arrest me for obstruction.”
The Dirty Dozen Page 26