Tennison

Chapter twelve

On her journey to the station Jane couldn’t stop thinking about Dr Harker’s lecture. Her quiet evening at home with her mother after the wedding rehearsal had ended on a note of amusement when a drunken Pam had returned home, picked up a wedding magazine and started moaning that she was unsure about her choice of wedding dress.

Mrs Tennison had had to persuade Pam that it was too late now to change her mind.

‘It’s gorgeous and you’ve made the right choice. It’s just pre-wedding nerves.’

Jane had laughed and said to herself, wait until you see the state of my cleavage in my tight bridesmaid dress!

She had gone to her bedroom, leaving her mother and Pam to discuss the final details, bouquets and veils. For the first time in weeks she had not, as usual, gone straight to sleep. Instead she lay on her bed and thought about how she could use what she had learnt from the Harker lecture on the Julie Ann Collins case, especially as it helped to take her mind off the hideous bridesmaid dress.

Refreshed and eager to get back to work, Jane arrived at the station at 8 a.m. She was unsure whether DCI Bradfield would still want, or need her, to continue with the indexing of statements and information on the Collins investigation. She was about to knock on his door when Kath saw her in the corridor and scooted out from the incident room.

‘Shush, Jane, don’t wake him up. He’s having a kip in his armchair.’

They both went into the incident room and Kath continued to update Jane about Bradfield.

‘He didn’t finish in the mortuary until 2 a.m., and then he had to write up his report cos the DCS is on his back. He’s been here all night and God knows what time he eventually got to sleep. I’ve had a pretty rough night of it — Spencer Gibbs had me looking after Mrs Phillips after she threw a wobbly, but mind you I don’t blame her under the circumstances.’

Jane had a puzzled look on her face. ‘Kath, can you please slow down and start at the beginning as I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about regarding Mrs Phillips.’

‘Sorry, I totally forgot you were at Harker’s lecture yesterday. Bloody brilliant, isn’t he? Did you spot the crucial clue with the suspect’s trainers?’

‘Yes to the talk and no to the trainers. Tell me more about what’s been happening here.’

‘Well, it wasn’t exactly here, over at Regent’s Canal to be exact. Anyway get a couple of coffees and a bacon roll for us both, an egg in mine as well, and then I’ll give you the whole story,’ Kath said, handing Jane some money.

She returned from the canteen fifteen minutes later and listened intently as Kath told her everything that had occurred the previous evening concerning Eddie Phillips and his grandmother.

‘She was in tears but calm at first, well, more in a sort of catatonic shock, I’d say. Then when she ID-ed Eddie’s body at the mortuary she really went off on one, screamed her head off and went for poor old Spencer. Her personality change was unbelievable.’

‘Did she hit DS Gibbs?’ Jane asked with surprise.

‘Tried to slap him and then kicked him in the shins. It was quite funny as he was hopping about on one leg because it hurt so much!’

‘Why did she react like that?’

‘Do me a favour, Eddie’s face was bloated and discoloured from being in the water. Anyway she was convinced Bradfield and Gibbs had beaten him to death then dumped his body in the Regent’s Canal.’ Kath went on to explain how she’d had to restrain Nancy and get the police surgeon out to sedate her.

‘I felt so sorry for her I took her home and stayed the night with her. The drugs calmed her down, but she still had tears spilling down her cheeks and kept saying, ‘My poor little fella, what a waste.’ Eddie was all she had and even though he was a druggie she obviously loved him. She even told me that looking after him was what kept her going. Eventually she fell asleep, but when she woke up at the crack of dawn the drugs had worn off. She saw me as the enemy cos I was connected to Bradfield and Gibbs. She screamed that she’d tell the papers and get a petition up from everyone on the estate about how the police had murdered her grandson.’

‘What happened then?’ Jane asked.

‘She told me to eff off out of her flat, so I did before she went for me as well.’

‘Regent’s Park is a bit off Eddie’s usual patch for shooting up, isn’t it? From what I read he normally used the squat on the Pembridge,’ Jane remarked.

Kath cocked her head to one side, noting Jane’s use of ‘shooting up’, proving that she had picked up the drug lingo Kath had explained to her.

‘A dog walker found him face down between two barges, more towards Camden than by the Zoo side. Who knows what he was doing over that way. In fact Mrs Phillips came to the station yesterday morning as she thought he was still in custody, but he’d been released the day before.’

‘I think it’s really strange. I mean do they reckon he died where they found him, or elsewhere and was dumped?’ Jane asked.

Kath shrugged. ‘Gibbs told me they don’t know for sure, but they think that whatever happened to him occurred on the canal path. So far there are no witnesses. All he had on him was a few coins and a bus ticket from Hackney, bought shortly after he was released from here.’

‘How long had he been in the water?’

‘No idea as I didn’t get to stay for the post-mortem. But you know they got those two big markets in Camden and they’re both fairly new, very trendy and the sort of place drug dealers might hang out.’

Jane remembered something. ‘Didn’t Eddie Phillips give DCI Bradfield the names of some dealers?’

‘Yeah, and the drug squad came in and were with him for a couple of hours. They were going to do some digging and speak to informants and see what they could find out, but I don’t think he’s heard back from them.’

Jane sifted through the indexing carousel and finding the card she was looking for showed it to Kath.

‘Eddie said two men, one nicknamed Big Daddy and someone called Dwayne.’

Kath nodded, ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Do you think Eddie got scared and went to see this Big Daddy?’

Kath had a drip of egg yolk on her chin and she wiped it off with her paper napkin before answering.

‘Why would Eddie go see someone he’s scared of?’

Jane shrugged. ‘He might tell him about being arrested as a murder suspect, or that the police were asking questions about Julie Ann’s dealer. He could say he kept quiet and didn’t tell the police anything so—’

‘He wouldn’t look like a grass? I dunno, Jane, it’s possible, but what I do know is the poor little bastard ended up dead.’

‘We should have had him followed after he left here.’

‘Yeah maybe, but I wouldn’t go saying that to Bradfield. He was really pissed off last night because he still thinks Eddie was withholding information.’

‘And I’ll be more pissed off if you two don’t get on with some work!’ Bradfield said.

Kath and Jane were so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them had seen him standing in the doorway. He was rubbing his hair dry with a towel and had obviously just had a shower in the men’s locker room. He threw his Eddie Phillips death-scene and post-mortem reports down on the desk and told Jane to get them typed up and indexed. He then turned to Kath and asked her to call the drug squad and tell them to pull their fingers out, as it was now possible that this Big Daddy character, or his sidekick Dwayne, had murdered Eddie Phillips.

Jane got out some blank index cards, placed two sheets of plain paper and carbon in the typewriter and began typing. Kath was straight on the phone to the drug squad whilst Bradfield asked Jane if Kath had updated her on the death of Eddie Phillips.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied nervously, wondering how much he’d heard of her conversation with Kath.

‘This case is going from bad to worse. Tell the team as they come in that I want an office meeting at 10 a.m. I’m going to the canteen for some breakfast,’ he said gruffly.

Kath put the phone down. ‘Two drug squad officers are already on their way from the Yard to see you, guv.’

He said nothing, simply raising his hand in acknowledgement as he left the room.

‘Do you think he’d been standing there for long?’ Jane asked.

‘Na, otherwise he’d have had you over the coals for the remark about tailing Eddie. So tell me, how did it go with Dr Harker?’

‘It was really interesting and informative when he discussed fibres being left behind and picked up at a scene by suspects. Especially as there were red carpet fibres on Julie Ann’s socks. Dr Harker was very nice and I liked him... he even asked if I would like to go for a drink.’

‘Wow! Teacher’s pet! So where did you go?’

‘I didn’t — I had a rehearsal for my sister’s wedding.’

‘So you turned him down? Couldn’t the rehearsal have waited?’

‘No way — you have no idea how obsessed my family have been with it all — the church arrangements, the reception venue, the invitations... My sister is behaving like a prima donna and I can’t think of anything worse than being a bridesmaid.’

‘Ah well, she’s your sister and it’ll be her big day.’

‘The only hope I have is of some major incident happening so that my leave gets cancelled and I have to come to work.’

‘Don’t be so cruel! You never know, you might get a leg-over with the best man.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Kath, if he’s anything like the guy she’s getting married to that is definitely not going to be on the agenda.’

‘Well, maybe you’ll get another date with Harker — mind you, rumour has it he’s married with kids.’

‘What?’

‘It’s only what I heard. You gotta watch these forensic scientists — they’re all smooth talk and touchy-feely. I think he’s attractive in a sort of public-school way. Why not put yourself down for another one of his lectures?’

‘I wouldn’t mind another lecture but there’s no date if he’s married.’

Kath pursed her lips, smiling.

‘Well, you’re quite a prude, aren’t you, Jane Tennison?’

‘I don’t think not dating a married man, children or not, has anything to do with being a prude. Why get into something that isn’t going to do anything but cause hurt and emotional stress?’

‘You’re not gay, are you?’

‘No I am not! Honestly, Kath, you’re really embarrassing me.’

‘Well, I don’t know, you could be, as I’ve never seen you out with any of the guys from this station. Mind you, I can’t say I blame you as most of them are only interested in havin’ a quick shag. Are you dating a fella or shacked up with anyone?’

‘You know that I live at home with my parents.’

‘Oh Christ yes, I forgot. Did you fill in that request form for a section-house room?’

‘Yes, but I haven’t heard back yet.’

‘I know there’s a space coming up, and you’ll have your pick of three floors of guys. Lotta drinking and sex goes on, but there’s a uniform sergeant in charge who’s like Godzilla. Heaven forbid if he catches you going in or coming out of one of the men’s rooms, and vice versa for the blokes. Mind you I suppose living at home is not conducive to having a hot fling.’

‘Kath, for heaven’s sake!’

‘My God, don’t tell me you’re a virgin?’

Jane had her back to the door. She was about to reply when she realized there were two men listening in behind her. They were both dressed scruffily in jeans and T-shirts and one had long, manky-looking hair and a droopy moustache. Kath burst into giggles, as Jane flushed bright red having been caught out twice in the space of minutes. The younger of the two detectives winked at Jane and said he lived in room 12 at the section house on the first floor. His mate commented that unfortunately he was married and lived at home, but having heard what Kath had just said he was now thinking of moving to the section house. They both laughed loudly and asked where DCI Bradfield was. Kath, still laughing, said he was in the canteen and they left the room.

‘I’m sorry, Jane, but you should have seen them with their jaws wide open.’

‘Who were they?’ Jane asked.

‘Drug squad guys by the looks of it.’

‘Does the one with the scruffy hair really live in the section house?’

‘No, but I wish he did,’ Kath replied with a leering smile.

Jane was unsure how to rebuff the giggling Kath as she didn’t like the way she had drawn her into discussing her private life. As always she could never remain uptight with Kath, who now hooked her arm around Jane’s shoulder.

‘Don’t pay any attention to me, darlin’. With those big tits you got I’m sure you had a lot of guys panting after you at Hendon Police College. I know I did — lost my virginity to the PTI sergeant. The positions he could get into were unbelievable — he had a body like Burt Reynolds in Deliverance, and like the film he took me on a trip into unknown and dangerous territory,’ she said with a cheeky grin and another giggle.

Jane didn’t feel like laughing. In fact she felt rather disappointed in Kath, but she nevertheless laughed, acting as if it was all a joke.

Jane continued typing Bradfield’s report. She couldn’t stop thinking about the elderly Nancy Phillips’ reaction when she’d seen her grandson’s body. Although Jane felt sorry for her something niggled in her mind. Once she’d finished the typing she opened her handbag and got out the small notebook she had used during the lecture. She flicked through it until she came to the bullet points she’d made after her last conversation with Harker. She’d written and underlined ‘Grief causes emotion = stress & anger = real or fake guilt?’

Jane hurriedly picked up a pen from the desk and wrote ‘Julie Ann’ next to her last entry and then put a circle round her name.

Pentonville Prison’s visiting times were always crowded and noisy occasions. Families with children were usually kept over to one side, and the inmates were brought in by officers in groups of four to five. John and David sat at a table looking around the room to see if there was anyone they recognized as they waited for their father to be brought in.

‘Here he is,’ John said as he nudged David.

As their father strutted towards them he nodded to the officer sitting in a high chair overlooking the room. Clifford Bentley had thick grey hair and his son John resembled him. Although John was slightly shorter they both had the same square jaw and dark hooded eyes.

Clifford sat facing his sons. He nodded hello to both of them before drawing a plastic pouch filled with tobacco and some Rizla papers from his trouser pocket. Opening the pouch he removed some tobacco and dropped it onto a paper and nonchalantly made a roll-up with one hand.

John reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out a box of matches. He held them up so the watching officer could see what he was doing, struck one and his dad leant forward with the roll-up in his mouth.

‘Got everything for the new kitchen organized, have you?’ Clifford said through the side of his mouth and took a deep drag before blowing the smoke in the air.

‘Yeah, just a few more items needed but they’re expensive. I’ve rented a garage, cash payment under a false name, and we’re storing stuff there until we’re ready to begin,’ John said softly as he glanced round the room.

‘Is it secure?’ Clifford asked, and John nodded as he continued, ‘Good, yer don’t want anything nicked before you’re ready to go.’ His voice was gravelly from years of smoking and he had to cough frequently to clear his airways of phlegm. He handed John the roll-up and started to make another for himself.

‘You’ll have to work flat out when you start.’

‘Yes, Dad,’ the two sons said in unison.

‘Good, but make sure you always do it in the right hours. Don’t want locals complaining about the noise and calling the filth, do we,’ he said, referring to the police, and the boys shook their heads.

‘As soon as I’m released on parole I’ll help if you need me, but me joints ain’t what they used to be,’ Clifford said, putting the new roll-up in his mouth.

As he patted his pocket for a box of matches two young kids started fighting and screaming at each other. Clifford looked at the officer in the high chair and caught his eye.

‘Letting kids in this effing place does me eardrums in, officer, it shouldn’t be allowed... Can’t you sort ’em?’

The officer in the high chair nodded to his colleague on the floor to deal with the kids. Clifford used the opportunity to remove the palmed matches from his pocket and secretly place them on his lap under the table. John caught his father’s eye and nodding picked up the box of matches he had used to light their cigarettes. He held up his hand and rattled the box again towards the floor officer for permission to hand them to his father. The officer nodded and went over to speak to the mother of the screaming kids. Clifford took the matches from John, lit his roll-up and then switched them for the box on his lap.

‘So, who’ve you got to help decorate?’ Clifford asked and made a show of tapping the box on the table whilst puffing at the thin cigarette he had rolled so expertly.

‘Danny, the ex-Army bloke. He’s good with electrics and well up for it.’

Clifford realized Danny would be the ‘bell man’. He inhaled, slowly letting the smoke drift from his nose. ‘Boxer, weren’t he?’

John nodded. ‘Yeah, he fought middleweight in the Army. Tough son of a bitch.’

‘Well, if he’s up for it then you got to make sure he knows exactly what the job entails, but more important what I expect from him.’

‘He knows, Dad, he knows,’ John replied.

Clifford flicked the ash into a tin ashtray on the table, palmed John’s box of matches, and picking up his tobacco pouch folded it over, tucking the matches inside before putting it in his pocket. He looked at David.

‘You’ve not said a thing yet, son. You OK?’

‘I’m fine, Dad.’

‘Is he, John?’

‘For Chrissake, Dad, I can answer for meself!’

‘I’m sure you can, son, but your eyes look squiffy. You ain’t getting addicted to the painkillers, are yer, cos I warned you about them.’

‘No, Dad, I only take what I need.’

Clifford wagged his finger at David. ‘Are you on that wacky-backy shit? Loads of ’em use it in here and you can tell cos of their squiffy eyes.’

‘No, I was out with Ma in the rain the other night and got a bit of arthritis in me leg. It’s been real sore and keeping me awake so I’m just knackered, that’s all.’

‘How is she?’

John leaned forward. ‘She’s forgettin’ stuff all the time. If she gets any worse she’ll need to go in a nursing home. She’s not cleanin’ offices no more and I don’t like her goin’ out on her own.’

David glared at his brother. ‘She’s all right, I look out for her.’

‘Well, I’ll be out soon enough to check yer mother over and decide what’s best for her... but keep her indoors, and for Chrissake don’t let her have so much as a smell of the decorating job. There’s a pal of mine in here who’ll need a slice of bread. He’s got eight more years but he wants his missus and kids to have it while he finishes his stretch.’

‘What’s he got to do with it?’ David asked.

‘Let’s just say he put the decorating job our way and don’t question my decisions, son.’

‘Sorry, Dad,’ he said, looking dejected.

‘Are you going to be able to handle it, David?’ Clifford asked, having no worries about John.

David swallowed and nodded as he clasped his hands tightly together beneath the table. His leg was really throbbing and he started to rub his thigh.

‘We need him,’ John said, then leaned close to his brother and ruffled his hair.

‘He’s gonna be just fine, Dad. That’s right, isn’t it, Dave?’

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. We’ve not got all the gear yet but I’ll help John work on it.’

Clifford nodded and then looked directly at John. ‘You take care of him, understand me? I want him taken good care of — don’t want the smell of paint gettin’ on his chest, do we?’ He gave a crackling laugh, and then looked round the room.

‘Do you need anything, Dad?’ John asked.

‘Yes, son, a nice hot tart.’ Again he laughed, then with the roll-up now just a small thin wet paper he flicked it into the ashtray.

As the visit continued he asked John about Sandra and if they were going to get back together or divorced. John said he didn’t want to even try to move back in with his wife: he’d had enough of her whining and moaning and was better off unattached so he could plan for the future.

His dad frowned. ‘So, John son, who are you shaggin’ now?’

David sat silent, still rubbing at his throbbing leg. To him John and his dad were not like father and son, but more like two blokes swapping sexual banter and conquests. He’d always known his father had other women and never really even attempted to hide it from their mother. John was laughing about a woman who ran a local brothel in Chatsworth Road and had two black chicks who were turning tricks faster than a greyhound out the traps. The prison officer passed by their table and their father gave him a cordial nod as he leaned close to his sons, whispering that the bastard was on the take as he had a wife and four kids to support. He rubbed his thumb and fingers together to indicate the officer took money for illegal goods.

David was eager to leave and glad when he heard the bell, indicating that visiting time was over. They watched their father strutting away, turning to wave to them as the officers herded him out with five other inmates. You could tell by the way the other inmates gave their father distance that he was a king pin inside. God forbid if any of them nudged him or invaded his space.

John took hold of his brother’s arm and helped him out of his seat to the security gates where he was handed his walking stick. It wasn’t until they were sitting in the van that John opened the box of matches his father had so cleverly switched. The Izal toilet paper was folded and refolded into a thick wedge under a row of matches. John eased out the paper and David glanced at his dad’s small neat handwriting as his brother slipped the note into his breast pocket.

‘Ain’t you going to read it?’

‘Not here, I’ll wait till we’re home. We can pick up a few beers with fish and chips on the way... yeah?’

David nodded, staring from the window. John didn’t mention the ‘decorating job’ but spoke about football and his favourite team, West Ham. David wasn’t really listening, he was just thinking about ‘the job’ and it made his stomach churn.

John slowed down and pointed across the road. ‘There it is.’

David looked up: it was as if his brother had read his mind. He was frozen to the spot, his eyes transfixed on the small Trustee Savings Bank in Great Eastern Street.

‘That high-rise car park there has a 360 view from the top... You don’t mind heights, do ya, Dave?’ John said, and smirked as he drove on across Great Eastern Street and turned the van radio on.

Somewhat ironically the DJ announced the Adam Faith song ‘What Do You Want’. John looked at his brother and began to sing along, deliberately substituting one of the words:

John had a big grin on his face as he turned and looked at David, who couldn’t help but smile as well.

Everyone on the murder team gathered together in the incident room and listened attentively as Bradfield brought them all up to speed concerning the discovery of Eddie Phillips’ body and the post-mortem.

‘As you can see, exactly how he died is still up in the air and we need to bottom it out fast.’

The detectives in the room looked surprised and DS Gibbs spoke out.

‘We’re busy with the Collins case and strapped for staff already, guv — can’t another team take the Phillips case?’

‘I’ve said exactly that to DCS Metcalf, Spencer, but he says we’re to investigate both cases as in his opinion they are linked, but he’s giving me five more staff.’

‘It’ll be like a sardine tin in this poky office,’ one detective said, to Bradfield’s annoyance.

‘If you don’t like it, son, then piss off back to uniform and deal with shoplifters!’

There was complete silence in the room as everyone realized the DCI was not in the mood for frivolity or to be argued with. He lit a cigarette and told DS Gibbs that he was to concentrate on the Phillips case, get a team together to spend up to midnight working a mile stretch of the Regent’s Canal, both directions from where the body was found. He wanted every stroller and dog walker stopped and shown a picture of Eddie Phillips in case anyone recognized him, and they were to be asked if they had seen anything suspicious on the canal path in the last two days.

Kath mentioned the markets at Camden Lock and the possibility of drug dealers.

‘Good call, Morgan. Spence, cover the markets as well and get as many uniform as you can from the local nick to help you.’

Gibbs glared at Kath. Even though he knew she’d made a good suggestion it meant more work for him.

‘Did the drug squad guys have anything useful for us to go on?’ Gibbs asked.

‘Yes and no. They did some digging around and it’s believed Big Daddy originates from Moss Side in Manchester. No name for him as yet, but he’s black, about six foot four and built like a brick shit house — wears a draped blue suit and fedora, with two-toned brown-and-white shoes. We got no address as apparently he keeps on the move. He’s Jamaican like his sidekick Dwayne Clark, who’s known as “Shoes”, not because of the surname connection to the well-known brand, but because he apparently takes delight in stamping on people’s heads. A search on criminal records on his name was also negative, but the drug squad did get an address.’

Gibbs asked if they should get a warrant and spin Dwayne’s place, but Bradfield informed him the drug squad had done it early that morning. ‘It was a squat in Chalk Farm, clean as a whistle drugs wise — not even a bottle of aspirin. Dwayne’s girlfriend and her three young kids were at the address; our suspects weren’t. Apparently she was a right gobby cow and said Dwayne, and a black bloke called Josh, ran a window-cleaning business together...’ He paused to let the laughter in the room die down before continuing.

‘You may laugh but the drug squad found a load of new ladders, sponges and buckets at the address — even an MOT for an old van, but nothing for a Jag.’

Everyone in the room knew the window cleaning was probably a front for dealing drugs.

Kath commented that Chalk Farm was a stone’s throw away from Camden Town and Jane asked if Dwayne’s girlfriend knew where the two of them were. She heard some sniggers in the room and someone whisper, ‘She’s so naive.’

‘Yes she did,’ Bradfield said, and frowned at the whisperer, which brought a chuffed smile to Jane’s face.

He continued, ‘She said they were both in Coventry and had been there for well over a week, which conveniently puts them both out of town during Julie Ann and Eddie’s deaths. And before you ask, she doesn’t know where this Josh lives and was adamant he’s not Big Daddy, but the drug squad officers said it was obvious she was talking a load of bollocks.’

‘What the hell are they doing in Coventry?’ Gibbs asked.

For the first time Bradfield smiled. ‘Apparently the window-cleaning slash drugs business is doing so well, they are looking to expand and set up there as well. Big Daddy is most probably this Josh, and if originally from Moss Side that’s a real tough drug area, so my guess is he still has contacts there and he runs drugs from Manchester to London, with drop-offs in Birmingham and Coventry on the way — all whilst cleanin’ windows, haw haw.’

‘What a load of cock,’ Gibbs replied.

‘I know that, Spence. Dwayne’s tart is obviously lying through her teeth about the alibi, but we’ve no bloody evidence to disprove it at the moment. The drug squad showed her a picture of Julie Ann, but she said she’d never seen her and, “Dwayne don’t mix with white trash”. She’d never heard of Eddie Phillips either.’

‘If she’s been primed as to what lies to tell us maybe they know we are looking for them, which means Eddie Phillips must have blabbed,’ a detective commented.

‘Stop telling me the bloody obvious as it’s really beginning to piss me off! What I want to know, but clearly don’t, is exactly where Big Daddy and Dwayne are right now,’ Bradfield said, and lit another cigarette from the one he was just finishing.

‘Are the drug squad making enquiries in Coventry?’ DS Gibbs asked.

‘No, Spence — you are. Go up there and—’

‘I thought you wanted me to cover the canal?’

‘I said organize a team to do it, then you can link up with the Moss Side and Coventry drug squads. If you find Big Daddy, Dwayne and or this Josh bloke, nick ’em and transport them back down here for questioning.’

Gibbs sighed. He didn’t fancy schlepping all the way to Coventry, but he had no choice.

Bradfield told everyone that now the drug squad knew about Eddie’s suspicious death they’d put pressure on known hard-drug users and informants in and around a square mile of where his body was found, in an effort to get more on ‘Josh’ and Dwayne Clark. They had also organized a team to keep surveillance on Dwayne’s flat and Bradfield had agreed that if any drugs were seized when they were arrested the drug squad boys could deal with that after he’d interviewed them.

‘So far we’ve got Jack Shit on this case and I’m getting it in the ear from the DCS to get results. You need to start pulling your fingers out of your backsides and work harder. I want those two black bastards found and banged up in a cell downstairs within the next twenty-four hours. Overtime is not a problem — now get out there and graft.’

As everyone went about their business Bradfield approached Jane.

‘I need you with me this afternoon now that Spence is off to Coventry,’ he said irritably.

‘May I ask where we are we going, sir?’

‘It’s a memorial service for Julie Ann.’

Jane thought he may have made an error. ‘Do you mean funeral, sir?’

‘If I did I’d have said funeral, wouldn’t I, Tennison? Her parents were informed that it’ll be at least eight weeks, maybe more, before the coroner releases the body. So they decided to have a memorial service in the meantime. Get yourself spruced up then meet me in the yard in ten minutes.’

Jane grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and a roll of Sellotape from the desk before hurrying down to the cloakroom. She wrapped a load of tape round her hand so the sticky side was facing out and brushed down the back of her jacket removing the bits of fluff and cotton. Having put the jacket on she did the same with the front and then combed her hair. She was about to retie it back with an elastic band when it suddenly snapped.

‘Shit, shit.’

She didn’t have another one so grabbed her hat from her locker and putting it on pushed her hair up inside it, but strands of it slipped out. Frustrated, she recombed it and tucked it behind her ears before giving her cheeks a pinch and doing up the buttons of her jacket. She did a quick check of her tights, and with her handbag over her shoulder scurried out towards the station yard where Bradfield was waiting impatiently in the driver’s seat of an unmarked red Hillman Hunter. She opened the passenger door.

‘Get in, get in,’ he said tetchily.

She was still shutting the front passenger door as he pulled away at speed.

‘We are just going to make an appearance out of respect, sit at the back, give our condolences and be visible for as long as necessary. Then we get back here — I’ve got a lot to do.’

Bradfield drove in silence and Jane wondered if she should make some polite conversation or if it was best to keep quiet. Eventually Bradfield started talking, not turning towards her but staring directly out of the windscreen.

‘God, I hate these things. Whoever killed Julie Ann and her baby is still out there. If I’d got something to tell them like we’d caught the bastard responsible it might have helped soften their grief. I don’t know — pregnant and a junkie at her age: I’m surprised she didn’t want an abortion.’

There was an awful pause, before Jane decided to say something.

‘Apparently drugs can disrupt menstruation, especially heroin. So even if she missed some periods she might not have connected it to being pregnant. Then there was that phone call Anjali O’Duncie overheard. If Big Daddy was her dealer and the father, maybe she was asking for money for an abort—’

Bradfield turned and stared at her. ‘You think he’d give a shit? He’s got kids littered all over the place by God knows how many women. Why would he bother to help a teenage hooker who was passed round to his cohorts to feed her addiction? All she cared about was the next fix.’

There was another lengthy pause before Jane tried again.

‘Do you think that Eddie was murdered because he’d told you about this Big Daddy character?’

Bradfield sighed and ruffled his hair. ‘I dunno. The toxicology results might show he overdosed on heroin which caused him to accidentally fall into the canal and drown. Who knows — maybe he was so high he thought he’d swim upriver and sneak into London Zoo,’ he said with a hollow laugh.

Jane continued, ‘It’s another no-witness case like Julie Ann. Although it is different because we know he was at the station the day before and if this Big Daddy did kill Eddie then I guess you have a possible motive. Eddie was the last person to see her two weeks before her body was found. Professor Martin said she had bruises from a bad beating prior to her murder, so if we could find out where she was for those two weeks it would really help because—’

He interrupted her. ‘Thank you, WPC Tennison — I’m aware of the time frame and have been doing everything possible to trace her movements and whereabouts during that missing period.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ Jane said, deciding it was best to keep her opinions and thoughts to herself.

The church was already half full of mourners by the time they arrived. Bradfield and Jane were surprised to see a white coffin on a plinth in front of the altar. It had a long plaited wreath of white lilies and a picture of Julie Ann on top of it. Mr and Mrs Collins entered arm in arm. They glanced towards Jane and Bradfield who were standing side by side in the back row. As they passed Mr Collins gave a small bow of his head to acknowledge their presence and then continued along the church aisle to sit in the front pew. A vicar in a black cassock, white surplice and black tippet that hung down to his knees entered from the vestry and stood at the lectern as the organ played an unrecognizable short piece. He gave a light cough before he began the service.

‘I’m sure you are all aware that the body of Julie Ann cannot, for legal reasons, be here with us today and a full funeral service will be held at a later date. However, we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are seen are transient but the things that are unseen are eternal. I welcome George and Mary Collins, family and friends, to this special service for God’s beloved child Julie Ann, who is here with us in spirit. A regular at our Sunday service she enjoyed singing with the church choir, a delightful spontaneous young girl, who was blossoming into a beautiful young teenager. We all share the grief of her parents at a young life so tragically cut short.’

The vicar continued and Jane could sense Bradfield’s impatience as he stood beside her sighing and shuffling his feet and twice looking at his watch. The vicar announced the hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, which they sang before Mr Collins stepped up to the lectern.

‘I thank you all for coming today. My wife and I have been touched by the care and kindness so many of you have shown us. Your words, cards and letters of sympathy are helping us both come to terms with our tragic loss, although I am unsure if we will ever recover fully from losing our only daughter. We have been able to recall and keep in our minds the joy Julie Ann brought to us. She was an adorable little girl, always full of fun and with so many gifted talents. She especially loved to dance and we were proud beyond words to watch her progress through her dance classes and grade exams, but the sadness that...’ He faltered and took a moment before he continued, recalling how much hope they had had for her future and how they believed that one day she would dance professionally on stage.

Bradfield turned over the page of the order of service card, trying to estimate in his head how long it would be before it ended. Two more hymns and a psalm to be read by a relative, and a solo hymn by one of the girls in the choir. Jane kept on flicking glances at him and he leaned close to her.

‘I reckon we won’t get out of here for at least another half-hour!’

It was longer, three quarters of an hour later, when the vicar ended the service with a bidding prayer and he and Mr and Mrs Collins left the church to stand outside and thank everyone for coming. Mrs Collins was visibly upset, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping.

Jane and Bradfield were the last to exit the church and George and Mary Collins were just getting into a friend’s car. The vicar approached Bradfield with a weak smile.

‘Thank you for coming to pay your respects to Julie Ann. It meant a lot to Mr and Mrs Collins. They are having a small gathering at home, family and close friends, and they asked me to say that you’re both welcome.’

‘Well, I’m not sure—’ Bradfield started to say.

‘I think it would be most helpful to their state of mind if you were there. I know they are finding it difficult to cope with the fact Julie Ann’s body has not yet been released for burial, and they feel there are still so many unanswered questions.’

‘Yes I understand, but—’

‘Good. I’ve a few things to attend to, but I will see you there,’ the vicar interrupted and sauntered off.

‘Shit, I suppose we have to show our faces now,’ Bradfield said belligerently.

‘Well, if it helps Mr and Mrs Collins through the day it can’t be a bad thing,’ Jane said.

‘All right, we stay no more than ten minutes and I’m only speaking to them about the case. You can fend off anyone who’s nosy and wants to know how the investigation is going.’

‘But what should I say?’

‘That it’s sub judice to talk about it with anyone other than the parents.’

‘I thought that only referred to a case already under judicial consideration?’

‘I know that, but they don’t. If you don’t like it then you can stay in the car for all I care.’

It took a while to get to the address as Bradfield made a wrong turning, which didn’t help his already irritable mood.

Cars were parked in the Collinses’ drive and on the road. Bradfield parked opposite in the street, got out and ran his hands through his hair before heading towards the house. He stopped and turned to see where Jane was and she was still sitting in the car. He walked back and tapped on the passenger window, which she wound down.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I thought you wanted me to wait in the car.’

‘I was being sarcastic, Tennison, but please yourself. I won’t be long anyway.’ Bradfield walked off.

Jane was upset by his attitude and, feeling she’d be a hindrance rather than a help, stayed put.

The front door of the house was wide open, people going in and some still parking outside. Jane sat looking from the car window, watching the mourners walking sedately up the path. Ten minutes passed and Jane crossed and uncrossed her legs as she desperately needed to go to the bathroom. She began to feel uncomfortable and eventually couldn’t wait any longer.

She left the car and entered the house where she saw the young girl who had sung the solo holding a tray of white wine ready for the guests to take into the living room.

‘I need to use the bathroom,’ Jane said, feeling embarrassed.

The young girl grinned. ‘The vicar just went into the downstairs one. He’ll probably be a while, what with his cassock and surplice to contend with, but if you go straight up the stairs there’s a bathroom just along the landing.’

‘Thank you,’ Jane said and hurried up the stairs.

Bradfield felt cornered as Mr Collins stood close to him. Everyone else was talking quietly and Mrs Collins was sitting on the sofa crying profusely. Mr Collins was eager to know if there were any developments in the police investigation. Bradfield told him that they were still trying to track down whoever supplied Julie Ann with drugs and they had a couple of positive leads they were currently following up on. Mr Collins asked what had happened to the young boy they had arrested. Bradfield knew he was referring to Eddie Phillips and not wanting to distress Mr Collins further just said he had been released pending further enquiries, but it would seem he wasn’t involved in her death.

Bradfield saw Jane attempting to attract his attention from across the crowded living room. She was surreptitiously raising her hand, but when he didn’t respond she threaded her way through the guests and moved to stand just behind him.

‘Sir, could I have a word with you, please?’

He turned to face her, and excused himself to Mr Collins.

‘Can’t you see I’m busy talking with Mr Collins, and take your ruddy hat off inside the house,’ he whispered.

‘Please — it is very important I speak with you in private.’ Jane removed her hat, causing her hair to fall loose.

‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he said sternly and turned back to Mr Collins.

He made his excuse to leave and shook hands with him and then spoke briefly with Mrs Collins telling her how nice the service for Julie Ann had been.

At last he made his way to the front door, placing his empty wine glass onto the young girl’s tray as he edged past her.

‘That was a very nice solo,’ he remarked as Jane trailed behind him feeling something akin to a lap dog.

As they walked down the front path towards the car Jane tapped his arm.

‘I think you need to look in the garage at Mr Collins’ car before we leave, sir.’

He stopped and turned abruptly.

‘What on earth for, Tennison?’

‘It may not have been a Jaguar XJ6 or 12 we should have been looking for.’

He glared at her, but at the same time he was curious, and gestured for her to move out of the way as he crossed the small section of grass towards the garage door which was closed. Jane stepped in front of him. She had a quick look round before grabbing the handle and pulling the door halfway open. She ducked underneath and into the garage followed by Bradfield who saw the only thing in it was a vehicle covered by a fitted tarpaulin. The garage was dimly lit by the natural daylight filtering in. He looked at Jane in a manner that made it clear she’d better get to the point quickly as he was beginning to lose patience. She lifted back a section of the cover over the offside front wheel, pulling it back further for him to clearly see the dark maroon colour. He snatched the tarpaulin from her and whipped it back to reveal the front registration plate and maker’s badge.

‘It’s a two-door 1960s Bristol?’ he said.

‘Eddie Phillips only ever saw the car from behind, sir. We may have been wrongly assuming that it was a four-door Jaguar.’

Bradfield pulled even more of the cover back onto the car roof to reveal the driver’s door and offside of the vehicle. He tried the door-handle but the car was locked.

‘Can you see the colour of the carpet?’ Jane asked.

He shaded his eyes with both hands and peering into the car could just about see the matching maroon carpet surrounding the gear stick. He stepped away, chewing at his lips. He checked his watch.

‘Right, we need to get back to the station and get a search team organized and a warrant before we come back here,’ he said, pulling the tarpaulin over the car. He slid out under the garage door followed by Jane.

As they headed towards the patrol car he stopped and cocked his head to one side.

‘You have very nice hair, but keep it tied back when on duty.’

He didn’t ask how she had come to suggest he look in the garage, or even say well done, but he did hold open the passenger door for her to get into the patrol car.