Tennison

Chapter sixteen

Alone in her bedroom on Sunday morning Jane found it difficult to even look at herself in the mirror. The salmon-pink taffeta floor-length bridesmaid dress, now with the waistband and large bow in place, had been difficult to hook up as it was so tight. The corset was even tighter and it was hard to take a deep breath, and she was scared that if she did her bust would pop out as the neckline was so low, and the puffball sleeves kept slipping down her shoulder. The ensemble was topped with a coronet of fresh white tea roses, which was too large and slipped forward every time she moved. The dyed satin Cuban-heeled shoes matched the dress and all three bridesmaids were to carry a little posy of white roses and wear elbow-length white gloves.

‘Dear God, I look ridiculous,’ she muttered.

The entire family was gathered in the living area along with the other two bridesmaids, who were Pam’s closest friends, although Jane had only ever met them at the church rehearsal.

Her mother shouted for Jane to get a move on as the car had arrived and the car for Pam and her dad was also due any minute. Jane gritted her teeth as she slowly left the bedroom and walked into the room where the other two bridesmaids in identical outfits were shrieking and giggling with excitement.

Her mother was fussing, rushing here and there in a worried state, wondering where she’d put the box of white roses and freesias for the groom, best man and ushers to pin to their morning-suit buttonholes. Her father was sitting nonchalantly reading the paper, his top hat between his knees.

He glanced at Jane. ‘Where’s the bride?’ he asked, folding the paper, then looked up at her.

‘Good God, your dress is a bit low at the front, isn’t it?’

Before Jane could answer Pam came out from her parents’ bedroom, where she’d been for the last four hours fixing her hair and make-up. Her floor-length white lace gown, which had cost a fortune, was bunched up in her arms and she suddenly wailed as the long white train caught in the base of the door. It was panic as Mrs Tennison shouted for her husband to find the buttonhole flowers while she helped Pam. Mr Tennison remembered they were in the hall and, annoyed with all the frantic fuss, took charge of the situation, clapping his hands as he instructed everyone to keep calm and get ready to leave.

‘Bridesmaids go now, first car. Mother, you take the flowers and get them to the groom and the boys, Pam and I will follow at exactly eleven forty,’ he said, checking his watch.

‘Pam, don’t bunch up your dress, it’ll crease.’ Mrs Tennison shook out the veil to straighten it and then rushed back into the bedroom to fetch her hat.

Pam was in a panic. ‘Where’s my bouquet?’

‘In the hall, sweetheart... let the bridesmaids go to their car now... Where the hell is your mother?’ Mr Tennison sighed.

Jane had by now collected her posy of roses and held them tightly to her chest as she opened the front door and stood to one side as her mother scurried out with her hat on, stopped suddenly, turned and went back to the hall to get the box of buttonholes.

Pam looked at her father. ‘Please don’t get into a bad mood with Mummy — she’s just excited like we all are. Can you get my bouquet, please?’

‘For God’s sake, Pam darling, you’ve got ten minutes before we need to leave. Jane, you keep an eye on your mother and help her hand out the buttonholes at the church — the chaps should all be there by now.’

The journey to the church took five minutes, the three bridesmaids squashed in the back seat and Mrs Tennison sitting nervously in the front. By the time they arrived the groom and best man were standing outside on the church steps looking anxious, and the ushers were showing the last few guests to their seats.

Mrs Tennison fussed round the girls, patting down their dresses, fluffing up their puff sleeves and straightening out their coronets.

‘You all look absolutely gorgeous, and remember, Jane, as chief bridesmaid you take the bouquet from Pam when she says her vows.’

She gave Jane a tearful smile, patting her and leaning close.

‘I hope one day it will be your turn, but you shouldn’t have worn your hair down, I said put it up in a chignon. I’ve got a comb, just let me run it through.’

‘Leave it alone, Mother, just go and sit in your pew.’

It was a waste of time: Mrs Tennison opened her small purse and took out a little comb and started tugging it through Jane’s long blonde hair.

‘That’s better, now push the coronet up a bit as it’s too low down.’ As Jane used her right hand to push the coronet up her mother gasped.

‘Good heavens, your bust is falling out. I don’t know... that woman made dresses for Alma Cogan — you’d think it would fit you better.’

Jane was appalled as her mother insisted on hitching up the front of the dress and pushing down her breasts.

Jane stepped back. ‘Enough, Mother, and you need to straighten your hat!’

‘I wasn’t going to go with this one, but your father said the one I liked was too expensive.’ She adjusted the hat. ‘Is it all right now?’

‘It looks lovely.’

Jane sighed with the relief as the groom and best man accompanied Mrs Tennison to her seat and then took up their positions at the front of the church while the bridesmaids went to wait in the small anteroom for Pam and her father to arrive.

The other two bridesmaids’ constant nattering irritated Jane so she stepped outside to wait for her father and sister and saw the vicar at the foot of the steps looking at his watch.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked him.

‘Yes, we’re just running a few minutes late. I’ve another wedding at one thirty, and then the usual evensong to prepare for as well, so we need to keep everything tickety-boo and on time.’

Jane, annoyed by all the fuss, politely said hello to a couple of guests who were late arriving, though she didn’t have a clue as to who they were.

‘How much older are you than Pam?’ one of them stopped to ask.

Jane turned to face a flushed coiffured woman who she suspected was a friend of her sister from the hair salon, and said that she was four years older.

‘Oh, must seem odd, Pam marrying before you.’

Jane stopped herself from making a sarcastic reply. Hearing the crunch of tyres on gravel, she turned to see the car carrying her father and sister pull into the churchyard. The vicar promptly paced up the steps and into the church and waved his hand at the organist who started playing the wedding march, which caused the other two bridesmaids to hurry out from the anteroom.

Mr Tennison helped Pam alight from the car and the two bridesmaids rushed down the steps to straighten her veil, and pull out the wedding gown’s long beaded train.

‘Right, we all set?’ her father said quietly as they reached the church porch. Standing to Pam’s right he linked arms with her and they proceeded to walk down the aisle followed by Jane and the other bridesmaids.

When they reached the chancel the groom stepped forward and shook hands with Mr Tennison who then gently lifted Pam’s right hand and placed it on the groom’s extended left hand before stepping back behind the bride.

Listening to their vows Jane was surprised to feel quite emotional. Her baby sister was so nervous, and stumbled over a few lines as she gazed at Tony, who had big raw hands and ruddy cheeks.

The ceremony was over within half an hour and after photographs outside the church there was another crushed journey to the Clarendon Hotel for the reception. The further photographs in the hotel grounds took ages, and the speeches, apart from her father’s, dragged on and on. Jane was anxious to escape, but her father had hired a disco for the entertainment so she was obliged to stay. As more guests arrived the two other bridesmaids made a beeline for one of the ushers and the best man. Elderly relatives looked on and cheered as they watched Jane’s parents attempting to do the twist to the Chubby Checker song.

It was an excruciating few hours before Jane decided to extricate herself and ask her father if she could get a taxi home.

‘Don’t be impatient — you can’t leave until the bride and groom do... She’s changing into her honeymoon outfit soon and we have to wave them off.’

‘I need to check in with the station in case I am needed.’

He gave a resigned sigh, and leaned close. ‘Don’t make excuses, you’ve had a face all day like you’ve been sucking a lemon, just try and show a bit of enthusiasm. It’s Pam’s big day, and who knows, maybe you could be the lucky one that catches her bouquet.’

Jane sighed and returned to her gilt-backed chair at the top table. She sipped at her champagne, which was now tepid. She had stuffed a paper napkin down the front of her cleavage to stop her mother constantly telling her to pull up the bodice. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed an overweight man accompanied by a small blonde woman approaching her table. There is always an embarrassing relative in a family and for the Tennisons it was Uncle Brian, their mother’s older brother. Clinging to him like a limpet was his tiny wife Claire. They both appeared to have had too much to drink.

‘Here she is, our own little Dixon of Dock Green... Evening all.’ Uncle Brian snorted as he laughed and gave a salute. ‘Collared any big-time villains yet, or are you still directing traffic?’ he asked.

Jane gave a small tight smile. ‘Dixon’s male and we’re about to crack down on dodgy car dealers, Uncle Brian.’

He laughed loudly and his wife tittered.

‘Well, when you want a nice reliable second-hand motor you know where to come. You know our Barbara’s an air hostess with Dan Air now and travels the world on long-haul flights? She’d have been here today but she’s in New York... lovely uniform, wonderful job. It’s the sort of work you should be thinking about.’

‘She’s lost loads of weight, you know,’ Aunt Claire added.

‘Good for her,’ Jane said, recalling Barbara was at least thirteen stone plus and as haughty and objectionable as Uncle Brian. ‘Mind you I’ve always thought an air hostess was a sort of glorified waitress,’ Jane said sarcastically.

‘She’s dating a pilot and having a lovely time,’ Aunt Claire said and gave Jane a sidelong glance.

‘I’d never have let our Barbara go into the police. In fact I was surprised when your mother told us you’d joined, and those hats you have to wear, dear me, they’re so ugly, but each to their own chosen path, I suppose.’

‘I am finding it really fascinating, and I was at my first autopsy the other day. They make this Y-shaped incision that begins with cuts behind each ear and goes all the way down along the neck and chest to the pelvis so they can remove the intestines. The pathologist also peels the flap of skin off the face and over the skull.’

Aunt Claire’s mouth was wide open in shock and disgust.

‘Interesting, isn’t it?’ Jane said, smiling cynically.

Uncle Brian laughed and did another silly salute before whisking his wife onto the dance floor.

It was half an hour later when Pam returned wearing a smart suit and hat. She threw her bouquet over her shoulder, and the auburn-haired bridesmaid, who was by now very flushed and rather tipsy, caught it. With a sigh of relief Jane watched the ‘happy couple’ depart in a red MGB V8 Roadster, a ‘Just Married’ notice taped to the boot, along with old shoes and empty tin cans tied to the rear bumper, which bounced and rattled as the car pulled away backfiring. The MGB had been lent to them by Uncle Brian and was to be returned after the honeymoon was over, but Jane suspected it might not last out the trip to the Lake District and back.

By the time Jane returned home with her parents it was after nine and she felt drained. She couldn’t wait to remove the salmon-pink nightmare dress and, after struggling out of the tight corset, she threw the dress on the floor and chucked her wilted coronet into the wicker bin. She lay on her bed in her underwear looking up at the ceiling. She realized that moving into the section house was definitely what she needed. She really didn’t want to live at home any longer. Now that she’d completed and returned the forms for a room it was time to broach the subject with her parents.

She realized sadly that she had come to feel rather alienated from them. They had not approved of her joining the Metropolitan Police Force, although they had been proud at her passing-out parade at Hendon Police College. Her parents were always warm and loving and Jane knew she had nothing to complain about, certainly not when she thought of the squalor and neglect she had witnessed at the squat. She knew deep down her parents wanted her to be more like Pam, but the reality was that she and Pam were as different as chalk and cheese.

Jane smiled to herself. She was proud to be a police officer and determined to make a career of it, but as yet she was unsure exactly what she wanted to do after her probation. Even though she was enjoying assisting the CID she knew there were many different branches of the force she could eventually apply for. Her sister had no ambition other than to get married and start a family. She had met Tony the carpenter only a year ago, started a whirlwind romance that led to engagement and, in Jane’s opinion, too soon a marriage. She sighed, at least the day was over and done with. She could not for a moment contemplate ever wanting an elaborate ceremony like that for herself. That is, when and if she found her Mr Right, but she felt there was more chance of finding him if she wasn’t living at home.

There was a tap on the door. ‘Would you like some cheese on toast, dear?’ she heard her mother ask. ‘No thanks, I ate too much at the reception.’

‘Daddy and I are going to have a sherry. Would you like to join us?’

‘I’ll come out in a minute, I’m just changing.’ Jane sighed and got off the single bed she had slept on since she was a child. She looked around her bedroom with its Laura Ashley wallpaper and felt proud of the silver-framed photographs of her in uniform and the Met Police plaque on the dressing table. She lifted her dressing gown from the hook on the bedroom door, and feeling guilty about the crumpled bridesmaid dress on the floor picked it up and placed it on a hanger in her wardrobe.

Her parents were sitting on high stools at the breakfast bar listening to soft jazz music on the radio. They were both eating cheese on toast and sipping sherry from small crystal schooner glasses.

‘Hi, you must both be tired out,’ Jane remarked.

Her mother gave a little shrug and sighed. ‘We’ve been going over the entire day... it was so wonderful and everything went according to plan, didn’t it, dear?’ she said, looking at her husband for confirmation.

‘Fabulous day, apart from your Uncle Brian and his munchkin wife going on and on about their precious Barbara being an air hostess. Even though she’s allegedly lost weight I bet she still has to squeeze between the aisles.’

Jane laughed but her mother frowned and ignored his remark.

‘Pam looked so beautiful, so happy and radiant. Tony’s a very nice young man. At first I was worried they might have rushed things, but I think he will make a good husband and he’s a carpenter so he’s good with his hands — he’ll work wonders on their lovely little flat, won’t he, Daddy?’

Mr Tennison nodded, downed his sherry then slapped the base of the bottle of Lea & Perrins making sauce splash out over his toasted cheese. Jane noticed that her mother’s cheeks were flushed and she wondered if after the champagne at the reception, and now the sherry, she was a little drunk.

‘I’ve been thinking, the bridesmaid dresses cost so much that what you should do is get the dressmaker to cut down the neck, remove the puffs and shorten the length, then you’d have a beautiful cocktail frock. Pam was going to have her wedding gown made into one, but then she said she was going to keep it in the box so that when she has a baby it can be made into a lovely christening gown.’

Jane remembered Kath Morgan’s remark. ‘Oh my God, she’s pregnant!’ she exclaimed in surprise.

‘Good heavens, no she is not. Whatever made you think that?’ her shocked mother asked.

Jane shrugged and said nothing, though she wondered if it was true and Pam had kept quiet about it.

Her mother continued, ‘She wants to start a family right away and I for one think it’s a lovely idea. I never had a big white wedding.’

‘What?’ Jane interrupted, wondering what her mother was inferring.

‘It’s not what you think. My parents couldn’t afford a big do, and don’t forget the war wasn’t long over. Daddy and I have always saved in a special account for your and Pam’s weddings.’

‘She’ll have to get a boyfriend first, sweetheart. Am I right, Jane?’ he said with a wink.

Jane hesitated and drew one of the stools out from beneath the breakfast counter.

‘I need to discuss something with you,’ she said quietly and was about to explain about moving out when her father pointed to the radio.

‘Bloody hell, there’s more on the news about that Lord Lambton scandal.’

‘Dad, I really need to—’ Jane started to say but he wasn’t listening.

‘He’s a junior Defence minister. Apparently the News of the World somehow got hold of photographs of him in bed with two prostitutes whilst smoking marijuana,’ he said.

‘You’d think a Tory minister would behave better,’ his wife added as she turned up the volume slightly.

‘Blimey, he’s admitted it was him in the compromising photographs,’ Mr Tennison said as he moved closer to the radio.

Mr Tennison clapped his hands, applauding the actions of the Prime Minister. ‘Christ, it seems the only one in the government who wasn’t paying for sex was Ted Heath himself.’

‘What gets into those men: lovely wives, nice houses, and they go with prostitutes. It just beggars belief,’ Jane’s mother said, shaking her head. ‘I worry myself sick about you, Jane. Every time you leave the house in your uniform I am on pins until you come home. It’s all drugs nowadays, I mean if high society and our politicians are using drugs, whatever next? It’s a terrible world.’

‘I’ve applied for—’

‘I don’t care what you’ve applied for, Jane... What with you travelling on the Tube and bus every day, you only need one crazy person to see your uniform and you’re an easy target for God knows what.’

Jane stood up and lingered beside her father as he turned the radio off. Her mother put her plate and glass on the draining board saying she would do the washing up in the morning. She kissed Jane goodnight and went to her bedroom.

Mr Tennison, a tall angular man with fine artistic hands and a chiselled handsome face, put his arm around Jane. ‘Pay no attention, sweetheart, your mum’s just being over-protective. We’re both proud of you and I am damn sure you’d never take foolhardy risks. All she really wants is for you to find a nice fella, settle down and have kids.’

‘Dad, with the wedding preparations in full swing I didn’t tell you something and I wanted to wait until I knew for sure I had a place.’

He looked somewhat confused. ‘Are you leaving the police?’

‘No.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘I’m leaving home. I have made a decision to move into the section house. It’s Met accommodation for single officers. It’s in Hackney so it will be more convenient for work.’

He looked surprised but remained calm. ‘Well, you’ve always paid Mother a bit of rent, which she’s really appreciated, but this is a very big move on your part, isn’t it?’

‘It’s cost-effective, the rent’s cheap, they have a canteen. Rooms are quite small and the bathrooms are communal, but there’s a games room and two TV rooms. I think it will be good for me to mix more closely with other young single officers. The male and female residents are on different floors, there are strict rules and it’s run by a no-nonsense sergeant.’

‘You’ve thought it all out, haven’t you?’ he said bluntly, taking the last bite of his toasted cheese before dropping his plate in the sink.

‘Of course I have, Dad, it’s my life. I want to have a successful career and I need to stand on my own two feet.’

He turned on the hot-water tap and squirted washing-up liquid into the bowl.

‘You are and always have been what I call the “quiet one”, excelled at athletics, high-grade O and A levels, but I was surprised when you said you wanted to join the police force. Admittedly it’s not something I would have encouraged, but when you don’t get your own way you can be a right little madam. I want to show you something.’

He wiped his hands on a tea towel, went into the hall where his morning-suit jacket hung on the coat rack and took out his wallet.

He returned to the room, opened up the worn leather wallet and produced a small black-and-white photograph which he handed to Jane.

‘I took that picture in the local park with my Brownie Box camera. Your sister would have been about three, you seven. Pam was on the swing and I wanted you to stand beside her, but you insisted on sitting on the swing and she stood beside you screaming blue murder but you wouldn’t budge. Look at the expression on your face, that little satisfied smile because you got your own way.’

Jane looked at the little photo, which she’d never seen until now, and then passed it back, struck by how carefully he replaced it in his wallet.

‘When are you moving out?’

‘I’d like to go this week if possible. I don’t want to upset Mum but—’

‘Let me tell your mother and ease the way — you know what she’s like, but you also know you have a room here with us whenever you want or need it.’

‘Thanks, Dad. There are payphones at the section house and of course I’ll visit on my days off.’

She would have liked to kiss him, but they had never been very tactile: he had always seemed to hold back from showing her and Pam too much affection. Deep down Jane understood why, but it was a subject no one in the family ever discussed.

‘I’ll wash the dishes — you get off to bed,’ she said.

‘All right then... goodnight, love.’

Jane noticed he had left his wallet on the breakfast bar. She picked it up intending to return it to his jacket but opened it to have another look at the photograph of her and Pam. There was another black-and-white photo tucked behind it, creased and worn, not of her or Pam, but of Michael her brother who had had lovely blond hair and blue eyes. Jane was the firstborn, then Michael was born a year later, and the tiny photo showed the gorgeous little boy aged two laughing. Tragically, not long after the photograph was taken, he had fallen into a neighbour’s back-garden pond and drowned. Shortly after his death they had moved to the flat they now lived in and then Pam was born.

Jane had been too young to have any tangible memories of Michael, but there were other pictures of him around the flat. The shadow left by his death was a sad, almost secretive pain her parents shared between themselves, but it was also the reason her mother was emotionally fragile and her dear father so guarded.

Jane finished washing the dishes, went to her bedroom and felt comfort in knowing that she would always have this safe protected place to return to if she ever needed it. She wondered how big the storage space in the section house would be and how many of her clothes and personal belongings she should take with her; pillows, blankets and clean bed sheets were provided. She’d just reached out to get her notebook and pen so she could make a list when the doorbell rang.

Jane was puzzled as to who it could be as it was now nearly midnight. The bell rang again and as she went into the hallway she saw her mother in her dressing gown, her hair in rollers and a flustered expression on her face.

‘Oh my, I hope your sister’s not had an argument with Tony already and come home.’

Jane tightened her old dressing-gown belt and didn’t say anything, but knowing Pam, what her mother said did make sense. She unhooked the safety chain and opening the door was shocked to see DCI Bradfield.

‘Sorry to get you up so late but I need to speak with you in private.’

Jane was nervous. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘No, no, not at all.’

She could see his eyes were slightly glazed and thought at first it was because he was so tired, but the smell of alcohol made it obvious he’d been drinking.

‘Who is it, dear?’ she heard her mother call.

‘It’s for me, Mum, someone from work and nothing for you to worry about.’

Bradfield stepped back from the door. ‘Sorry, I thought you lived on your own. I didn’t mean to wake the family... It can wait till morning.’

Jane was intrigued and there was no way she could contain her curiosity until the following morning. She opened the door further.

‘Please come in.’

Bradfield followed Jane into the living area. ‘To be honest I hadn’t noticed you were not at the station today until I asked where you were. I got the address from your file.’

She was a little annoyed that he had not even noticed she wasn’t at work.

‘I did tell DS Gibbs I had a day off for my sister’s wedding and he said he’d inform you.’

‘Oh right, well after the day he’s had and under the circumstances it’s understandable he forgot.’

Jane wondered what he meant, but didn’t want to ask.

‘Can I make you a coffee?’

‘No, this won’t take long.’

Mrs Tennison appeared and Jane introduced her to Bradfield. Of the two her mother was the more embarrassed, touching her rollers and apologizing for her and Jane’s appearance.

‘You’ll have to excuse us but we’ve had a very big day and my husband is snoring away already. Jane’s sister got married and she was a bridesmaid.’

‘It’s all right, Mother, DCI Bradfield wants to talk to me about something important that’s work-related so you can go back to bed now.’

‘Oh, if you’d like a sherry we have a very nice bottle already open on the breakfast counter, or maybe you’d prefer a whisky?’

Bradfield smiled politely. ‘No thank you, Mrs Tennison, this is just a quick call. You have no doubt had a wonderful but long and tiring day, so I apologize for the intrusion.’

Mrs Tennison smiled and touched her rollers again. ‘Not at all, it’s a pleasure to meet one of Jane’s fellow-constables... in fact you’re the first from her station.’

Jane blushed. ‘A DCI is a very senior detective rank, Mum, way above a uniform constable.’

‘Really, you should have seen Jane today, she looked beautiful in her bridesmaid dress with—’

‘Goodnight, Mother,’ Jane said firmly through gritted teeth.

‘I’m going, I’m going, but please do come for lunch one Sunday... I always do a roast with all the trimmings and you would be most welcome.’

He gave a lovely shy smile and said he would be delighted to accept her invitation one weekend. Jane sighed with relief as her mother finally left the room.

Bradfield sat on the floral-covered sofa and Jane in the wing chair her father always used. He got out a pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, flicked open his silver Zippo lighter and was about to strike the flint wheel when he hesitated, gesturing to ask if it was all right to light up.

‘Please do, I’ll fetch an ashtray.’

She placed it on the arm of the sofa and he flicked his ash into it.

‘There’s something about you that’s different: your teeth look really nice and shiny white.’ He paused as he looked at her. She felt annoyed, closed her lips and wondered what he was inferring.

‘It’s make-up, you’re wearing make-up, right?’

Jane nodded and then shrugged and swung her hair away from her face.

‘Chief bridesmaid, so I had to look my best.’

‘Right, right, I understand,’ he said.

Jane could contain herself no longer. ‘Can I ask why you are here, sir? Is it something to do with DS Gibbs?’

‘Sadly it is, yes.’

‘Is he OK?’ Jane asked, worried that something bad had happened to him.

‘Yeah, he’s fine physically — I’ve just left him after we had a few beers. I wasn’t going to speak with you until morning, but I thought it would be best to do it in private, away from all the prying eyes and ears at the station.’

As he dragged on his cigarette Jane couldn’t think what was so important and curled her legs beneath her on the big chair.

Bradfield leaned forward.

‘We grilled Terry O’Duncie yesterday and he started to open up a bit, then refused to say anything more until he’d spoken to a solicitor. We’d denied him any contact or a phone call on the grounds we thought he might tip off Dwayne Clark, who it seems has done a runner. He spent the night in the cells but the idiot late-shift duty sergeant forgot to mark up the sheet and tell the night shift he wasn’t allowed any calls.’

‘Sergeant Harris was late shift,’ Jane said, trying hard not to sound pleased that Harris had messed up.

He nodded and told Jane that the ‘cock-up’ by Harris allowed O’Duncie to phone a bent solicitor called Cato Stonex who represented a lot of big drug dealers and got paid large sums of money to help them make up false defences. It transpired that O’Duncie told Stonex that he had been assaulted by DS Gibbs and also alleged that some of his money had been stolen.

‘It’s only his word against yours and DS Gibbs’s though?’

‘Not quite, Cato Stonex got a doctor in to see O’Duncie, and he diagnosed a recently broken nose. Stonex then went straight round the squat and took statements from a number of people who said that his ruddy nose was fine until we visited him and they heard us threatening him. Worse still is the young girl who was in bed with him says she saw Spence punch O’Duncie for no reason.’

‘That can’t be true — I was taking her downstairs,’ Jane said guardedly.

‘Exactly and that’s very important. Spence did nothing more than accidentally trip O’Duncie up as he tried to escape, which caused him to stumble and break his nose on the edge of the bedroom door.’

Bradfield stubbed out the cigarette and looked towards the kitchen area. ‘I wouldn’t mind that whisky now, straight with ice, please.’

Jane got up and went to the cabinet, still unsure exactly why Bradfield had come to see her. She removed a cut-glass tumbler and poured a good measure of whisky before adding two ice cubes from the fridge.

‘Spence and me wanted to interview O’Duncie again today,’ Bradfield said as she handed him his whisky and curled up again in the chair. ‘But his prick of a lawyer Stonex alleged his client had been seriously assaulted and some of his seized money stolen. The rubber heelers are now investigating and wouldn’t let us interview O’Duncie until they spoke with him.’

‘Sorry, who are the rubber heelers?’

‘A10 department, set up by the Commissioner Sir Robert Mark. So-called because you can’t hear them coming. They’re a group of specially selected officers from uniform and detective branches brought together to investigate and stamp out corruption in the CID. They wanted to know how much money was in O’Duncie’s wardrobe and who counted it, so obviously I had to tell them you did and they wanted to see your paperwork and property-store invoice for the amount.’

Jane looked worried. ‘There wasn’t any missing, was there?’ she asked nervously.

‘That’s the problem: they couldn’t find your list in the investigation files, or a property-store invoice, so I need to know where they are and how much money was there.’

Jane turned pale. ‘I put the list in the bottom drawer of the desk I was using.’

He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘OK, that’s fine, but where’s the bloody property-store receipt?’

‘I don’t know, sir.’

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

‘Sergeant Harris might have it as he put the money in the property-store safe...’

‘I bloody well know it’s in the safe because A10 checked and counted it today. They obviously think someone may have nicked some of it after we returned to the station, that’s why they want your list, to check it against the money in the safe.’

‘I hadn’t finished counting all the money or checking the serial numbers against Mr Collins’ list, sir. DS Gibbs said I could go home and then Sergeant Harris insisted I cover the front desk. He didn’t come back for over an hour and I totally forgot to ask him for the receipt so he should have it.’

He took a long sip of the whisky. She was really nervous and could see he was annoyed, but was surprised he didn’t shout at her. Truth was he knew he was partially to blame for not counting the money with Spencer Gibbs at the time or as soon as they returned to the station.

‘Harris was off today as well so let’s hope he counted the money and put the receipt somewhere safe, though knowing him I doubt it.’

Jane felt queasy and unsure what to say. She was worried that if any money was missing she’d be accused of theft and dishonesty.

‘Well, it went from bad to worse. O’Duncie also told A10 that DS Gibbs slipped some money into his pocket during the search, which I know for a fact he didn’t. No doubt they think I’m bent as well. What really pisses me off is that O’Duncie actually tried to blackmail us. Anyway, when they interviewed Spence they noticed he had bruised knuckles on his right hand and jumped to the conclusion it was because he thumped O’Duncie. With that and the money allegation they suspended him from duty pending further enquiries.’ He sipped his drink and rattled the ice.

‘I’m really sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble, especially for DS Gibbs and you,’ Jane said, close to tears, fearing her career might be over before she’d even finished her probation.

He could see how upset she was and spoke softly. ‘Hey, don’t look so worried. A10 can think what they like, it doesn’t scare me. They’ll strut about and ruffle a few feathers, but believe me everything will be OK and Spence will be reinstated. In this job you sometimes learn the hard way; O’Duncie and his solicitor are just trying to muddy the waters and it was me that cut corners, not you.’

‘Has he admitted that Julie Ann was at the squat for those missing two weeks?’

‘Right now he’s admitted fuck all, but I want the money thing sorted and you to check all the notes for sequential numbers first thing in the morning, then we can get them off to fingerprints branch. If by the luck of God a few match the serial numbers Mr Collins gave us, and we get his or Julie Ann’s dabs on them, then we got Terry O’Duncie in the frame for her murder and A10 off our backs.’

‘So is Terry O’Duncie the Big Daddy character?’

‘Nope, we got a call from Manchester CID and it appears Joshua Richards is Big Daddy. He was arrested for assault and banged up without bail. He’s a nightmare bastard apparently and probably why everyone is scared to death of him. He might be the guy that got Julie Ann pregnant, or it could be O’Duncie; truth is we will never know. Richards is out of the frame for her murder but I’d say he’s Terry O’Duncie’s supplier and that’s how Julie Ann knew Big Daddy.’

‘What about Dwayne Clark?’

‘He’s the sidekick runner for Richards and O’Duncie admits knowing him. He’s gone into hiding and so far we can’t break his alibi that he was in Coventry at the time of Julie Ann and Eddie’s deaths.’

He finished his Scotch and placed the glass down on a small coffee table.

‘We need something on O’Duncie to break him so he’ll talk.’

‘I hope it’s the money.’

‘Yes, but you have to understand that when you are asked to do something you must finish it, whether or not the duty sergeant wants you to cover the front desk. Any problems with Harris you come to me, do you understand?’

She couldn’t believe he was still letting her stay on the investigation and was worried at one point he might tell her she was suspended.

‘Yes, sir, I understand.’

‘Good. A10 will want to take a statement from you, and are you clear about why I wanted to have a private chat with you?’

She nodded, but the truth was she wasn’t exactly sure.

‘You back me up and you back Spencer up about O’Duncie’s aggressive attitude in the bedroom and the car.’

He held up his forefinger and thumb.

‘I’m this close to nailing him, OK?’

She nodded, and he patted his pocket to check for his car keys then walked through the archway towards the front door. She followed and opened it; he towered above her and she was taken aback when he leaned close and kissed her cheek.

‘We all sing from the same song sheet and everything will be fine, so be in early tomorrow.’

She closed the door after him. He smelt of whisky, cigarettes and faint lavender cologne. She replaced the chain lock, turned off the hall light and walked slowly back to her bedroom.

Bradfield got into his blue Ford Zephyr with Gibbs at the wheel.

‘Christ, you took your time.’

‘Yeah well, I had to be careful... met her mother — lovely lady, invited me for Sunday lunch.’

‘Come on, don’t string me out.’

Bradfield patted Gibbs on the shoulder as he started up the engine.

‘She was on her way downstairs with the young girl so didn’t see you smack O’Duncie. I told her you tripped him up as he tried to escape and that’s what she’ll say when the rubber heelers interview her.’

‘Thank Christ for that,’ Gibbs said as they drove off.

Jane lay in her bed mulling over her discussion with Bradfield. Although he had reprimanded her about not finishing counting the money and about the receipt, she knew she had got off lightly because basically what he wanted was for her to lie.