Tennison

Chapter seventeen

When it had just turned dark John dropped David off on the top level of the newish nine-storey car park in Great Eastern Street and got his wheelchair out the back of the van. He then handed David binoculars and a Shira-WT-106 walkie-talkie.

‘This has been modified by Danny for a greater transmission distance. We already tested ’em and they work fine — we’ll be able to hear each other. Don’t have it up too loud, though, and I don’t want to hear any idle chit-chat.’

‘I know, John, I ain’t stupid.’

‘Yeah well, you only call us if there are any problems like—’

David sighed. ‘The rozzers, passers-by, anyone reacting to any noise coming from the café... you’ve told me loads of times.’

John patted his brother’s cheek. ‘Yeah well, I know what you’re like for forgettin’ things. See ya in the morning.’

No sooner had John left to go to the café than David felt how cold it was due to the wind being more intense at such a height. He was grateful that the car-park barrier walls were low enough for him to be able to sit in his wheelchair and still have a good view of the café, the bank and surrounding streets. Although he had a rug around him for warmth he was soon freezing cold, and he realized he’d best wear some thermal underwear, gloves and a woolly hat in future.

Silas had already opened the café back-yard gates and closed them as soon as John drove in and parked up the van. Danny opened the back doors and he and John started to unload all the equipment which was wrapped in decorators’ sheets: the Acro poles, Kango drills, sledgehammers, wire cutters and two large buckets filled with tins of paint and brushes.

‘Come on, hurry up,’ Silas said, worried that they may be seen.

‘It’d save time if you bloody lifted a finger instead of just standing there watching us,’ John snapped.

Silas cracked his knuckles, lifted a stack of wooden joists and muttered they were too long.

‘For Chrissake, I’ve brought a fuckin’ saw... just get the gear inside.’

Danny glanced over to John. ‘He’s just nervous, John, so lay off him.’

‘All right, all right. David’s in position and I just want to get this stuff down the basement then get started with the job.’

Working through the night from 9 p.m. proved to be a lot tougher than John Bentley and the others had anticipated: breaking through the brick wall was a depressing, arduous and time-consuming exercise. The wall was not one brick in depth but had four individual layers. Using masonry chisels and hammers they painstakingly removed a line of single bricks six feet long into which they inserted wooden joists, supported by Acro poles, to ensure the four-foot-high square hole they’d made through the brickwork wouldn’t collapse in on them. Once this was done they were able to make a start on knocking through the next layer of bricks with heavy-duty hammers and chisels, taking their time so as to make as little noise as possible. As they moved through each layer of bricks they added more wooden supports. Silas had wanted to use the small electric Kango hammer drills, but John said it was safer for now to proceed slowly and use the hammers and chisels, but they would need the Kango to break through the concrete floor of the vault. Again Silas suggested using a small amount of explosive, but John, with Danny backing him up, was totally against it, fearing the shockwave would make too much sound, or worse still, cause the supports to give way.

Between them, Silas, Danny and John worked hard, with only a couple of breaks for tea or water to clear their lungs. As Silas had to open up in the morning, to make everything appear normal, he was allowed to have some sleep during the night in the flat above. John and Danny felt mentally and physically exhausted, and by 4 a.m. they had removed just three layers of bricks. Silas was sleeping when John suggested they stop and clear the bricks out of the café cellar as the sun would be up in just over an hour. Danny agreed, but chiselled out one brick in the fourth layer to see what was on the other side. He shone a torch through the small gap expecting to see the vault’s concrete base, but was surprised to see two thick iron bars a few inches apart. He peered closer, using the torch to illuminate the dark void beyond the bars.

‘Shit, there’s iron security bars, and we’ve miscalculated the length of the fucking vault,’ a disheartened-sounding Danny said.

‘What? Let me see!’ John exclaimed moving forward to look.

He put his hand into the brick hole to feel the thickness of the iron bars and Danny jerked it back almost spraining John’s wrist.

‘Christ, bloody watch it! If they’re on a vibration alarm you could set it off by touching them.’

John took the torch from Danny and soon realized the room on the other side was a dusty basement storage room filled with old filing cabinets, broken furniture and assorted junk.

Danny became jumpy, worried that anyone going down to the bank basement in the day would see the hole. John peered through it and shone the torch to his right. From a distance of a couple of feet he could see the right angle of the wall and more iron bars, behind which was thick concrete with embedded mesh.

He turned to Danny. ‘The concrete base of the vault is about two feet to the right.’

‘So what are you saying... we go through into the bank’s basement and work on the vault base from there?’

‘No, that’s far too risky. We start digging a tunnel from here down under the bank’s basement and then right so we can work upwards under the middle of the vault.’

Danny nodded in agreement. ‘Those iron bars will run at least two further feet into the ground. I can rig an alarm bypass circuit between the bars so we can cut them away.’

‘Do we use an angle grinder?’

‘No, far too noisy. An oxyacetylene torch would melt through the iron bars like butter and with little sound.’

‘I’ll nip out and fucking buy one now, shall I?’ John said sarcastically.

‘I know where I can get my hands on one today. Might cost a few quid, but I’ll have a few hours’ kip, borrow a van and sort it out for tonight.’

Before leaving they concealed their handiwork by putting up partially prepainted plasterboards to hide the hole in the café basement wall. They also took out the bricks in large cloth sacks to the yard and covered them with an old tarpaulin, with the intention of dumping them later.

David had had to continually force himself to keep awake and the effort of staying alert had drained him. With a start he heard the walkie-talkie crackle into life and then heard John say it was ‘time to get up’, which meant that work was over for the night. The lift was broken so he started to walk down to the entrance of the car park, using the wheelchair as a support, but his bad leg was so cold and numb he was in agony. He decided to sit in the wheelchair, but even that had been an effort and caused friction burns on his hands as the slopes required him to slow the wheels so much. He did try using the brake but it was already well worn and not much use. He eventually made it to the ground floor where John was waiting in the van.

John told him Danny had made his own way home as he folded the chair and put it into the back of the van.

David got into the passenger seat. ‘Christ, it was cold up there. I was freezing and me leg’s killing me.’

John rammed the van into first gear. ‘At least you were fucking sitting down all night,’ he snapped. He didn’t even mention the problems they had come across. He was so tired, he hardly said another word for the rest of the journey.

Arriving early at work, Jane was anxious about what had happened, and felt she’d let Bradfield and Gibbs down. She wanted to have all the money taken from O’Duncie’s squat counted, recorded and checked against Mr Collins’ list by the time DCI Bradfield arrived. She really hoped that some of the serial numbers would match against the money Julie Ann stole from her father.

Having grabbed herself a coffee she removed her coat, sat down at her desk and opened the drawer where she’d left her half-completed list. With mounting horror she realized it wasn’t there and she frantically searched through every drawer, tray and file in the office but could find no sign of it.

‘Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ she said to herself, panic-stricken. She took some deep breaths to calm herself. Perhaps the A10 officers had searched the office and taken her list for their investigation. Maybe they’d even seized the money as evidence.

Jane ran down the stairs to the property office, only to find it wasn’t open yet. Desperate to know if the money was still in the safe, so she could continue checking it, she went to ask the duty sergeant for his assistance in retrieving and booking it out from the store. To her dismay it was Sergeant Harris who was on a changeover to early shift after his day off. She found him in the cell area checking on the prisoners with a young PC who was handing O’Duncie his breakfast on a cardboard plate, along with a plastic knife and fork. Harris held out a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup.

O’Duncie saw her. ‘Your boss an’ his sidekick shouldn’t a messed with me. My solicitor’s gonna do ’em and get me outta here.’

Sergeant Harris deliberately dropped the tea. It hit the floor and splashed upwards. O’Duncie jumped up, dropping his breakfast of sausage, egg and fried bread. He started to shout abuse but Harris just slammed the cell door shut, pulled the metal wicket up and remarked that O’Duncie was a piece of shit.

Jane forced herself to be polite saying ‘Good morning’ and asking if, when he’d finished what he was doing, he’d be kind enough to open up the property store for her.

‘I heard A10 were crawling all over the station yesterday giving Bradfield and Gibbs a hard time, thanks to that piece of garbage in there.’

‘I don’t know anything about it,’ Jane replied rather unconvincingly as she always felt nervous in Harris’s presence.

‘Yeah right, well, I also heard they were looking for some paperwork of yours that seems to have mysteriously disappeared,’ he said, holding his hands up and making sarcastic inverted-comma signs.

Jane remembered the last entry she’d written was ‘Running total so far cash only £1,687’, which she’d timed and dated, and wondered if Harris had seen it himself. She couldn’t believe he’d be that spiteful, to stoop so low as to dispose of her paperwork just to get her in trouble, but the reality was she had no evidence as to who’d taken it.

‘Sarge, did you make out a property-store receipt for the money?’

‘Of course I did, I even counted it all for you, apart from the bag of coins, that is. There was nearly four grand, or was it nearer three, I can’t quite remember,’ he said with a cynical grin.

‘Where’s the receipt now?’ she asked, wondering if he might actually have used the opportunity to steal some of the money when he counted it.

‘I gave it to you, just before you went off duty. Don’t tell me you’ve lost that as well?’ he said in mock surprise.

Her anger rising, she stood her ground. ‘No you didn’t!’

He pointed to the three stripes on the side of his uniform jacket. ‘A mere probationer’s word against a supervising officer’s? Sounds to me like you really screwed up.’

Jane had had enough of his arrogant attitude. ‘Really, well, A10 are all over this because of you.’

He made out as if he was shaking. ‘Oh I’m really scared, Tennison. I did my job by the book, there’s nothing on me.’

‘You forgot to tell the night-shift sergeant O’Duncie was not allowed to make phone calls. He rang a crooked solicitor and started making outrageous allegations, none of which are true, but it’s got DCI Bradfield in trouble and Gibbs suspended so they are really furious. I’d say that’s two senior officers who are gunning for you. Who do you think they’ll believe about the missing paperwork and receipt, ME or you, Sergeant Harris?’

He glared at her and, lost for something to say, stormed off.

Jane was shaking with nerves but pleased that she’d finally stood her ground against Harris. Her good mood faded, though, when she realized she still didn’t know if the money was currently in the property safe. She went to the canteen and there were a few uniform constables and detectives having their breakfast. Seeing Kath carrying a tray to a table she went over and sat opposite her.

Kath looked round to make sure no one was listening. ‘Oh my God, Jane, it was all shit’s hit the fan here yesterday. O’Duncie made some serious allegations, don’t know exactly what about, but the rubber heelers were here nosing around asking questions. I heard poor Spence is suspended while they investigate the complaint.’

‘He is and I feel partly responsible.’

‘What’s going on, Jane?’

‘I’m in a bit of trouble. I didn’t complete the list of all the banknote serial numbers or check exactly how much money was there. I left it in my desk drawer and now it’s gone.’

‘What? You left the money in a drawer and now it’s been effing nicked!’ Kath exclaimed in a whispered voice.

‘No. Sergeant Harris put the money in the property-store safe. The list was in the drawer but...’ She hesitated.

‘Go on, but what?’

‘I’ve no proof, but I think Harris took the list and kept the property receipt to get me in trouble.’

‘God, that man’s a prick. Don’t get your knickers in a twist — just get the money out and I’ll help you to count and check it all again.’

‘I intended to but Harris won’t open the store for me and it’s closed at the moment,’ Jane said, adding that it was possible A10 had seized the money, but she wasn’t sure.

Kath ate fast, waving her fork around as she acknowledged a few officers. She told Jane that the large overweight PC in the corner having the ‘Full English’, with extra sausage, bacon and fried bread, was the property-store officer and he’d know if A10 had taken the money. If they hadn’t she’d see if she could persuade him to open up a bit early, but there was no point asking until he’d finished everything on his plate.

Jane contemplated telling Kath about Bradfield coming to her home, but thought it best not to as she’d probably ask a load of questions or think there was some sort of conspiracy going on.

Kath scraped her plate clean and wiped her toast around it.

‘There’ll be a copy of the property-store receipt for the money in the store; the pages in the book are carbon so the amount Harris recorded will still be there.’

‘Harris didn’t tell me that!’

‘Come on, Jane, he’s trying to mess with your head, darlin’. Let’s hope to God we do find all the money intact, cos if some of it’s gone walkabout more hell will break loose. Oh! By the way, how was the wedding?’

‘Pretty awful, I’m glad it’s all over.’

‘Ah, didn’t get the leg-over the best man then? Never mind, eh?’

Kath spoke with the property-store officer, who obviously had a soft spot for her. He said he’d open up early, though it was nearly eight by the time he’d finished a second round of toast and marmalade. A10 had not taken the money and Jane signed out the same canvas bag that Harris had put in the safe; the copy receipt showed £2,780 cash in notes but not how much there was of each denomination.

As an afterthought, in case someone had been light-fingered, Kath booked out the money she’d seized from Kenneth Boyle’s bedroom to recount it. Jane was glad Kath was with her; she knew the ropes and, as usual, was a calming influence. She confided in Jane that it always took a long time before stolen money could be returned as it took ages to determine who had the legal right to it. Jane asked what happened if there was more money left over than could be legally accounted for.

‘Supposed to go to the Treasury and be used for good causes, but before that a few quid often goes missing as well. Some detectives manage to find owners for every penny... well, more like they make up names and line their own pockets.’

‘Do you think DCI Bradfield or DS Gibbs would do that?’ Jane asked, beginning to wonder if she’d been used because of her inexperience.

‘Shit, no way they’re dodgy. They might give a suspect who deserves it a slap now and again, but thieving or taking a bung ain’t their style.’

‘What’s a bung?’

‘Boy, you’ve a lot to learn yet. It’s taking money as a bribe. Once you’re in the pocket of the bad guys there’s no way out: they got you by the short and curlies for ever then. A smart detective won’t risk prison, or throw away his career and pension for scum like O’Duncie.’

As they went upstairs to the incident room Jane felt more at ease with the whole situation, though ashamed that she’d doubted Bradfield and Gibbs’s integrity. She hoped by meticulously checking through the money she’d find a connection to Julie Ann Collins and also that nothing dishonest had taken place, and she would therefore be able to help Bradfield and possibly get DS Gibbs reinstated.

Bradfield was waiting, eager to know how they were getting on, and see the list Jane had compiled so far. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble so said that it wasn’t in her drawer and A10 might have taken it, which he accepted. Kath explained that they’d had to wait for the property store to open and had just got the money out to check it. Bradfield told them to get another uniform PC to be present and use his office to count and check the serial numbers on the money.

A short while later Jane sat at Bradfield’s desk with Kath and the collator PC Donaldson, who was known for his honesty and integrity. He was more than happy to monitor, assist and double-check the counting. Kath and Donaldson laughed as Jane got out a pair of tweezers and explained she didn’t want to leave her own fingerprints on any of the money. Kath produced three pairs of Marigold gloves and slapping them down on the table said that if they handled the notes carefully then the gloves would be fine and speed the process up.

Jane removed the pile of twenties first and started to list the serial numbers one by one.

‘No wonder you were taking so long, darlin’. You don’t have to write down every single serial number of the twenties: the bank has listed what they gave Mr Collins, which were ones, fives and tens, so just count and bag the twenties for now, OK? I’ll start checking the fivers, you do the £1 notes and PC Donaldson can make a start on the tens. Let’s get this show on the effing road.’

John Bentley was still in a deep sleep and snoring when his mother peeked in before quietly closing his bedroom door. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea and could hear David in the bathroom — they’d had a recent invention called the ‘electric shower’ installed for him as he found it difficult to get in and out of the bath. He came into the kitchen in his dressing gown. His hair was wet and he looked exhausted.

‘You want a cup of tea, son?’

‘Ta. John still sleeping?’

‘Out for the count. I dunno what time you two got home, but it was already light. What you been doing?’

‘Oh, down the club, played a big game of billiards.’

‘What, all night?’

‘Yeah, it was a round robin.’

She poured a big mugful of tea and sugared it before sitting down opposite David.

‘Your dad’s about to be released.’

‘I know,’ he replied as he blew on his hot tea.

‘I wish I could say I’m lookin’ forward to it, son, but I’m not, what with John moving in and no sign of ’im leaving. I’ll be worn out washing and cooking for all three of you.’

David slurped his tea, put two more sugars in and then sat stirring the mug.

‘I need to get some groceries in,’ Renee said.

David nodded and opened a packet of digestive biscuits.

‘Price of bread has gone up, eleven pence a loaf. I was thinking I might make a big pot of stew, would you like that for your tea?’

‘Yeah, sounds good. Do it for dinner, though.’

‘I was thinking of having it ready for your tea at five. It needs a good few hours simmering so the meat will be tender.’

‘Then put it on earlier — a late dinner will do.’

‘I can do that... Are you out again this evening?’

‘I’m meeting up with some friends to watch the latest “Carry On” film so I’ll be out late.’

‘Two nights out on the trot? John going with you, is he?’

‘What’s with all the questions, Ma? Just leave it out, will ya.’

She took a biscuit and nibbled at it.

‘I see he’s got a big van all done up.’

‘What?’

‘With painting-and-decorating signs on it. I saw you both in it last night when you left. I was going over to see poor Nancy Phillips, you know, the lady whose grandson got found dead. I thought she might like to go to bingo but she didn’t, been very poorly and the police won’t release his body for a funeral yet.’

‘Listen, John told you to keep your head down and not go out mixing with those gossips. You got to do what he tells you, Ma, or he’ll get real angry.’

‘Have I? Well, this is my flat and I like my bingo nights. I’m sick and tired of being cooped up and don’t you think I’m stupid — I know when something is up, just like I do with your dad cos I been married to him so long.’

‘John’s just looking out for you.’

‘Bollocks to that — he’s never done nothing for me in years. He should get back with his wife, I mean God knows what she’s up to whilst he’s living here. Is he still paying the rent at his place?’

‘I dunno, I’m gonna go back to bed for a kip.’

She leaned over and gripped his arm.

‘He’s not got you involved in something, has he? Don’t you treat me like I got no eyes or ears, you both been skulking round for weeks, and if he’s up to something you don’t let him drag you into it.’

‘He’s just drummin’ up work, Ma. He’s openin’ a new decorating company. He’s good with his hands.’

‘Like his dad was, but not for decorating. When did John ever lift so much as a brush? This whole flat needs a lick of paint; he should be gettin’ it freshened up for when your dad gets out, you know how particular he is. Look at the washer and drier John got me — I was quite happy goin’ to the launderette. I even got a fridge freezer and nothin’ in it cos John says he don’t want me shoppin’ for ’im.’

‘I go shoppin’ with you, you know that.’

‘All of a sudden you two are lookin’ out for me when you never done it before. I was happy cleanin’ offices, meetin’ me friends and then John moves back in and takes over my friggin’ life and I don’t like it.’

‘Leave it out, Ma.’

‘I won’t because I lived with your dad and I could tell when he was up to no good, I always knew, and I’ve thought for a few weeks you two were actin’ like you were hidin’ somethin’ from me. Don’t go tellin’ me it’s down to the slag your dad’s kept payin’ for cos I don’t give a toss about her. I know she visits him in the nick and I don’t care. I never have for years, not since you fell off that bloody roof. You are the only person I care about and I won’t sit cooped up here whilst John drags you into some dirty business.’

She suddenly started to gasp, her face turning blue. She clutched her chest as she heaved for breath.

‘You see what you done to yerself? Where’s your inhaler?’

She fished into her apron pocket, found her inhaler and began to puff on it, her face now drained of colour as she gasped, her shoulders lifting up and down. David was helpless to do anything for her as the attack worsened and she sucked on the inhaler.

‘Shit, Ma, go and lie down on the sofa. You need a doctor?’

She shook her head, the inhaler pressed to her mouth. She hissed and gasped as she got unsteadily to her feet. They slowly made their way to the lounge where she flopped down onto the sofa and closed her eyes. Gradually her breathing became steadier. David stood watching, and then limped to sit on the sofa arm.

‘Are you feeling better now, Ma?’

She wafted a hand, but did not open her eyes.

‘You want me to go get a doctor?’

‘No, no, it’s all right.’

‘I can go to the phone box, ring for one.’

‘Just leave me alone for a while,’ she said, still gasping for air. Slowly she seemed to breathe more easily and relax and David watched as her eyes flickered and eventually closed. He waited until she fell asleep.

He felt exhausted after being out all night and needing to rest decided to go to his bedroom. As he passed John’s room he looked in to see if he was awake, but he was still sound asleep snoring. John’s hair was matted, and his skin looked chalky from the brick dust that permeated the café cellar as they knocked through the wall. His clothes were dust free as he had worn the white decorator’s boiler suit over the top of them, even splashing the suit with paint by flicking a wet brush at it, so as to add to the illusion they were bona fide handymen if stopped by the police.

David lay down on his bed. He started to sneeze and scared he was coming down with a cold swore to himself. The thought of spending more freezing nights in the multi-storey car park was abhorrent, but as he began to drift off to sleep thinking about Florida, he knew it would be worth it.

It was almost 10 a.m. and Jane was double-checking the number of £20 notes when Kath suddenly slapped the table with the flat of her hand and excitedly held up a wedge of £5 notes.

‘We got a match, darlin’! Look at this: the serial numbers on these fivers found at O’Duncie’s match with the cash Mr Collins withdrew. We got five hundred quid’s worth here.’

Jane’s eyes lit up. ‘Well, that much is definitely not the sort of money Julie Ann would have given O’Duncie for food and accommodation, and surely she wouldn’t buy that much worth of heroin in one go.’

‘Fuck me, this is going to brighten up DCI Bradfield’s morning. There’s other fivers here but they’re not on the list so probably money O’Duncie made from selling drugs.’

PC Donaldson spoke up. ‘I was going to wait until I’d finished double-checking all the tens to tell you, but I’ve got seventy that match the list.’

Kath counted on her fingers. ‘That’s a grand two hundred so far of nicked money O’Duncie’s got.’

Jane grinned. ‘There’s only the £1 notes still to check but that shouldn’t take long as Mr Collins only withdrew five hundred of them.’

‘Well, that deserves a coffee and sandwich break,’ Kath said as she picked up a £5 note from the table. ‘What do ya fancy, Jane?’

Jane was stunned and didn’t know what to say until she saw the sly grin come over Kath’s face.

‘Only jokin’, but you can pay as we’ve helped you out here.’

Jane agreed and said there was money in her handbag. Kath snapped off her rubber gloves and asked Jane to carefully put the fives and tens that matched the list in the box to be sent to the fingerprint department.

PC Donaldson said he’d do the £1 notes with Jane while Kath went to the canteen.

She saw Bradfield there and he asked how it was going. She didn’t want to steal Jane’s thunder and simply said WPC Tennison had some good news for him. He was out of the canteen like a shot.

As Kath had anticipated Bradfield was jubilant, clapping his hands and full of praise for a job well done as he now had something concrete to put to O’Duncie, though he would have to wait until his solicitor Cato Stonex arrived to do a further interview, sadly without DS Gibbs. However, he was straight on the phone to tell A10 about the money and that WPC Tennison was available to make a statement that the young girl in the bedroom had lied about seeing DS Gibbs assault O’Duncie. The A10 DCI didn’t sound happy, even though Bradfield and Gibbs were ‘one of their own’, and said they would attend the station to speak with Tennison in the afternoon.

After another half-hour Jane was also able to tell Bradfield that there was a total of £180 in £1 notes that matched the serial numbers on the list, making a recovered total of £1,380 in different banknotes stolen by Julie Ann Collins from her father. He asked Jane to put the box of money in a confidential dispatch bag, secure it well with a numbered ratchet seal and get two uniform PCs in a patrol car to take it to the lab for the attention of DS Lawrence asap. She was then to come to his office.

‘Sit down, Jane. I just wanted to have a chat so that it’s clear why I have not invited you to sit in on the interview with O’Duncie. I know you have the record of all the individual notes and amounts that matched, but A10 are coming in to talk to you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So it’s not possible for you to be in two places at once, right? So I’ve asked Kath instead.’

‘I understand, sir, and I’m grateful you even considered having me present for the interview.’

‘You’ve done a good job, Tennison, and learnt a valuable lesson about procedure, though I admit I should have advised you better after the search and seizure of the money.’

‘You did, sir, but I was a bit confused and misunderstood you,’ she said, revealing her loyalty and what she intended to tell A10.

‘You’re entitled to have your constables’ federation rep present when they interview you.’

‘Do I need to?’ she asked nervously.

‘No, but I would advise that you do. They play on inexperience, will try and twist what you say and can be threatening about a probationer’s future career. It can be pretty daunting. PC Donaldson is the PCs’ rep and he will stamp down on them if they try anything on with you.’

‘Thank you, sir, I appreciate the advice and I won’t let you down again.’

‘I’m counting on that, Tennison, especially if you hope to join the CID as a detective someday.’

She blushed at his words and he cocked his head to one side, smiling.

‘You look cute when you do that, you know. You get two pink spots on your cheeks.’

Jane returned to the incident room, followed by Bradfield. Kath thought she looked nervous and upset, unaware that she actually felt pleased. Kath turned to everyone and wafted her hand to get their attention.

‘Listen up, we got a major link from WPC Tennison. She painstakingly matched serial numbers on the banknotes brought in from O’Duncie’s drug squat.’

Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened to Kath as she continued.

‘She discovered that nearly one and a half grand matched to the money withdrawn from the bank by Mr Collins, money subsequently stolen by his daughter Julie Ann.’

There was a round of applause, and Jane blushed again.

Bradfield looked at her, smiling. ‘She’s got us all out of a sticky patch and hopefully O’Duncie will now withdraw his allegations and DI Spencer Gibbs will be reinstated.’

The applause now turned to a cheer at the mention of the admired and well-respected Gibbs.

Sergeant Harris overheard the applause as he walked into the office carrying an envelope in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. It was rather eerie but more so for Harris, when on seeing him everyone went quiet, revealing their loathing of the man.

‘What can we do for you, Sarge?’ Kath asked.

‘There’s a Cato Stonex at the front counter, says he’s—’

‘Get that bastard O’Duncie brought up from the cells to my office, Sergeant Harris, but give me some time alone with Stonex first,’ Bradfield said and slapped his thigh with Jane’s report on the seized banknotes. He was really looking forward to the interview, especially with Cato present as well.

Jane wondered why Harris had come upstairs himself as normally he’d bark at the front-desk PC to pass on something to the CID. She looked questioningly at Kath who shrugged her shoulders.

Harris hesitated and Bradfield asked him if there was anything else. He nervously held up the envelope. ‘Yes, sir, an officer found these papers left in the PCs’ writing room and thought they might belong to Tennison.’ He put the envelope on the table, turned swiftly and walked out, his nose very much out of joint.

Jane didn’t really need to look in the envelope: she knew it was her lost list and the property-store receipt. She peeped inside, then looked at Kath and gave her a thumbs-up.

Bradfield leaned towards the two of them. ‘What was that about?’

‘Nothing, sir, it’s just my application form for the section house,’ Jane said, deciding it was over and done with where Harris was concerned and he probably wouldn’t be on her back again.

As Bradfield walked out, Kath moved closer to Jane. ‘That was good, you could have put that two-faced Harris bastard right in it, but you’re learning fast, means you got one over that bugger and he’ll know it.’

Cato Stonex wore a grey suit, blue shirt with a starched white stud collar, cufflinks and a dark navy tie. He was rather good-looking and very overconfident as he entered Bradfield’s office carrying a large bulging briefcase.

‘Good morning,’ Bradfield said but did not get up. He simply gestured to the seat opposite him and introduced WPC Morgan.

‘You need to know that your client has been using you for his own malicious ends.’

‘Well, I would refute that, DCI Bradfield, especially as I have a witness who was present when DS Gibbs struck Mr O’Duncie in the bedroom.’

‘She lied for him. WPC Tennison, who will be making a statement to A10, was already taking her downstairs when your client fell and broke his nose trying to escape arrest. I was also a witness to this and the fact O’Duncie tried to bribe me and DS Gibbs.’

‘Well, the young lady seemed truthful enough to me when I interviewed her, and it’s well known police officers protect, sorry, corroborate, each other like a “band of brothers”.’

Bradfield smiled. ‘She’s fifteen years old, so that means you took a statement from her illegally with no adult present to confirm it. O’Duncie was having unlawful sexual intercourse with her at the time we entered the room. It’s a statutory offence as he’s over twenty-four so it doesn’t matter if he thought she was sixteen...’

Stonex was about to say something but Bradfield held up his hand. ‘Please let me finish... then there’s administering drugs, which he gave her before sex, to facilitate intercourse, which done to a fifteen-year-old is technically rape as I see it. That’s what we’re telling her poor parents as well.’

This was all news to Kath and something Bradfield had obviously kept to himself for the interview with good reason.

Stonex sat back in his chair, sniffed and rubbed his nose. He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘You have been brushing up on your law, DCI Bradfield.’

‘Well, I hate to see an upstanding solicitor like yourself had over by a lowlife drug dealer like O’Duncie, who won’t even be able to pay your fees.’

There was a look of disbelief on Stonex’s face as he asked what he meant. Bradfield went into detail about the money that had been stolen by Julie Ann from her father. He explained how £2,780 was found in Terry O’Duncie’s room and the serial numbers on a total of £1,380 worth of different-denomination notes matched to the list provided by the bank. He added that the stolen banknotes were now all at the Yard being treated for fingerprints to be checked against those of their two victims, Mr Collins and O’Duncie himself.

‘Nearly half the money seized is stolen and the rest believed to be the proceeds of drugs, so that leaves your client without a pot to piss in and facing a charge that he murdered Julie Ann Collins for the money.’

‘So you’re saying you won’t be restoring the money?’

‘Correct, and he will also be charged with possession with intent to supply heroin and marijuana, and with various other drugs offences. No doubt with his previous he will be sent to prison for a long stretch, but should it transpire that any of the money’s legit then it could be restored to you as his solicitor.’

‘On the assumption—’

‘That we have ironed out the situation with your client’s false accusations regarding his broken nose and DS Gibbs stealing any money,’ Bradfield said and laid out the photographs of Julie Ann Collins’ body.

‘Your client has essentially denied knowing this victim as a close acquaintance, but as you’ve just heard we now have evidence to the contrary, not to mention her finger-prints in his bedroom at the squat. How you choose to break the good news to him is up to you.’

‘Well, I certainly think it’s time I had a serious conversation with him,’ Stonex replied, annoyed that he’d been made a fool of, not only by O’Duncie but also by Bradfield who was one step ahead of the game.

‘Good, WPC Morgan will escort you down to the cells.’

Cato Stonex hesitated but Bradfield pushed back his chair and stood up, checking his watch.

‘We can reconvene in say twenty minutes or so.’

Kath returned to Bradfield’s office a few minutes later and told him that Stonex was really pissed off with O’Duncie and the first thing he said was, ‘I don’t like being made to look like a clown, Terry.’

‘Well, let’s just hope he persuades O’Duncie to play ball. Otherwise we may still have unsolved murders on our hands.’

‘That was a stroke, sir, holding back about the girl being fifteen and Julie Ann’s fingerprints in the bedroom.’

‘I’ve never met her parents and haven’t a clue how old she is, but then neither’s Stonex. As for Julie Ann’s prints, well hopefully they might be there, but it wouldn’t prove he killed her,’ he said casually.

Kath knew he didn’t always play by the rules, but she’d never realized how canny he was and he’d certainly put the wind up Cato Stonex.

‘Do you think O’Duncie will confess now?’ she asked.

‘I fancy him more for killing Eddie Phillips, but to be frank there are some things that don’t add up with him and Julie Ann. If he killed her in that shithole squat for the money then it would more likely have been just after she ran off from her dad’s, but why bring her body all the way over to our patch? Why not dump or bury her somewhere out of town on the A40 or shove her in the canal like Eddie?’ He checked his watch again and stood up stretching and began pacing the room.

‘You want a cup of coffee?’ Kath asked, not wanting to question his valid points.

‘No thanks.’ He lit a cigarette and continued pacing up and down.

It was another ten minutes before two PCs escorted the handcuffed O’Duncie and Cato Stonex to Bradfield’s office. As they entered Stonex gave a discreet nod to Bradfield to indicate that his client was going to talk. The bruising from the broken nose had spread around O’Duncie’s eyes and he had fresh pieces of cotton wool plugged up each nostril. He was very subdued and sat next to Stonex opposite Bradfield and WPC Morgan.

Stonex handed over a short statement signed by O’Duncie in which he retracted all the allegations he had made against DS Gibbs and Bradfield, confessing they were a malicious attempt to get out of trouble. Bradfield asked Kath to take it through to WPC Tennison to give to A10 when they turned up to interview her. He waited for her to return before commencing the interview. He didn’t actually have to do so, but he liked watching the flash lawyer sweating and his client unable to keep his head up and look at him.

‘You are now aware of the serious charges against you, and we know you were intimate with Julie Ann Collins, so I suggest—’

Before he could finish O’Duncie leaned forwards. ‘She came to my place all on edge and looking a mess. She needed a place to doss down and told me her father had beaten the shit out of her with a golf club. I admit I’d slept with her a few times, but she was always up for it and there was nothing illegal, but this time she slept in one of the bedrooms downstairs.’

‘How long was she at the squat on this occasion?’ Bradfield asked.

‘Four, five days, maybe a week tops. She just lay around all day smoking dope. I asked her if she was OK and she said she was in pain and being sick. I thought it was just her kidneys actin’ up from the beating her dad give her. She became really strung out and started pestering me for heroin, so I gave her some for nothing an’ then she wanted more. I said she’d have to pay and she said she wanted to, and she was all kind of crazy sayin’ she’d been raped and was scared to say who it was as she reckoned he’d kill her. I wanted her to get out, but then she said she’d got a lot of cash. I swear before God I didn’t believe her, but then she got all serious and showed me a big wedge of money saying we could do some dealing together as she knew junkies at the Hackney drug centre where she was on a rehab programme.’

‘Was it the Homerton Hospital where your sister works?’ Bradfield asked and he nodded.

‘I said I needed to see a main dealer for supplies first and I was short on cash. She gave me one and a half thousand quid upfront to buy some good gear, and we’d agreed to cut the heroin down with powdered milk and then I would pay back what I owed her from the proft.’

‘Wait, wait a minute, Terry. You expect me to believe she just handed over the cash? What, you think we are fucking dumb? No way would she trust you with that amount of money.’

‘She did, listen to me, she knew the dealer so she was happy about it all. He’d been screwing her an’ she said if I tried to fuck her over she’d get him to sort me out.’

‘I need the name and address of your supplier.’

‘Shit, man, I can’t do that — it’ll be like puttin’ my head on the chopping block. I swear on my life I was gonna talk to Dwayne Clark to make the deal with a bloke in Manchester, but when I went round to his place he wasn’t there and his missus said he was in Coventry.’

‘You are walking right into it, sunshine. You said you were not at the squat when Julie Ann was murdered — that was a lie, you killed her and kept all the money, right, RIGHT?’

O’Duncie was sweating and twisting his body in his chair.

‘No, honest, it’s like I just told you. Dwayne wasn’t at his place so I just went back to the squat with the cash, but she wasn’t there and when I asked where she was one of the kids said she’d gone to Hackney for a few days. Then I heard she’d been murdered and I was scared to admit she had been dossing down at the squat because you’d think I killed her.’

Bradfield tapped the table with a pencil.

‘So let me get this straight: you admit Julie Ann was living at the squat, and she gave you a large sum of cash to buy a job lot of heroin, is that right?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Why Manchester for the drug deal? I mean that’s a good distance. Surely you know dealers closer to London?’ Bradfield said, strongly suspecting Joshua Richards, aka Big Daddy, was the dealer.

‘Listen, I’m telling you the fuckin’ truth. Besides, heroin’s much cheaper outside of London and we was asking for a big load of it.’

‘I see... Why didn’t Julie Ann go with you to see Dwayne?’

‘Because she felt sick, throwing up all the time.’

‘Did she tell you where she’d got the money from?’

‘No and I didn’t ask. Obviously I thought it was nicked, which I now know it was cos Mr Stonex told me it was her dad’s.’

‘You’ve got a fucking answer for everything, Terry.’

‘It’s the truth, man.’

Bradfield started jotting down some figures from the notes Jane had given him about the recovered money.

‘We know she stole just under £2,000 from her dad, you had £1,380 that matched the serial numbers, so IF she gave you one and a half grand what you do with the other £120?’

O’Duncie looked anxiously at his solicitor who said nothing.

‘I don’t do maths,’ he said nervously.

‘Oh right, unless it involves heroin, that is?’

‘I don’t do hard stuff either — check my body, there’s no needle marks. I just told you I never got to do the deal, that’s why I still got the cash.’

Everyone was shocked when Cato Stonex suddenly banged his pen down on the table in anger.

‘Enough, Terry, you’re digging a big hole and guaranteeing yourself a long prison sentence, so I suggest you stop messing about and tell DCI Bradfield the truth.’

‘OK, OK... like I said I never done the deal cos Dwayne was already in fuckin’ Coventry and I couldn’t get hold of him. I lied to Julie Ann and told her I’d given the money to Dwayne who had to go out of town to get the gear and we’d have to wait until he got back.’

‘So she was still at the squat waiting for the drugs?’

‘Yeah, but I give her some Quaaludes and she said she was gonna go and shack up with Eddie over at Hackney and arrange some deals with the clinic junkies. She said she’d be back and threatened me again if I tried to stitch her up.’

By now he was sweating so much his face was dripping and he kept on wiping himself with the sleeve of his shirt.

‘She only gave me £1,500 then left. I swear before God she left, man, and that was the last time I saw her. I never killed her, she left the squat a day or so before she was found dead. I can prove where I was: me and my girl went to the Chelsea Hotel, I even checked in under my real name.’

‘The underage girl you were with when we arrested you?’

‘Yes, but she told me she was eighteen... we spent some of the money Julie Ann had given me on a few nights there, expensive meals, champagne, and bought a load of clothes and shoes in Carnaby Street. We were in the hotel room when it was on the news that she was dead, man. I got scared shitless so I just lied cos I honestly dunno what happened to her.’

Bradfield felt like it was two steps forward and a big hole-in-one going back.

O’Duncie’s alibi had a ring of truth about it and could easily be checked out with the hotel and young girl. Feeling depressed Bradfield pulled out the photograph of Eddie Phillips from the envelope and pushed it towards O’Duncie.

‘So what happened with you and Eddie?’

The room was stinking from the sweating O’Duncie as he looked at the photograph. He yet again glanced helplessly to his solicitor.

‘Just answer the question, Terry,’ Stonex said.

‘He’d been at the squat a few times with Julie Ann. They were on the same drug-rehab programme where my sister worked. After Julie Ann died he turned up saying he was scared because you lot wanted him to give the name of the dealer they used.’

‘The dealer is the man known as Big Daddy? The man you planned to score off using Julie Ann’s money?’

O’Duncie reacted, and slowly nodded his head.

‘Yeah, all right, yeah, but I never met him, I swear on my life I dunno him and last I heard he got nicked in Manchester. I know he’s a fuckin’ nightmare if you cross him and Julie Ann was terrified of him. I only done business through his sidekick Dwayne, an’ he can get crazy, kicking your head in.’

There was a pause as O’Duncie swallowed and coughed before he continued.

‘Anyway, Eddie was fucked up when he come round to the squat, he was stinking of puke and crying. He said because Julie Ann had been murdered, he was being hounded by you lot, but he swore he’d never mentioned me.’

‘Did he say anything about Julie Ann being pregnant?’

‘Yes, but I knew it wasn’t mine as I never shag junkies without protection because of hepatitis, and it couldn’t be Eddie’s as he was a right little nerd. I didn’t know she was pregnant till Eddie said so, and Christ only knows whose it was as she was a right slag.’

‘Do you know if Big Daddy raped her?’

‘Not for certain, but it wouldn’t surprise me, having heard what he’s like.’

‘And how did Eddie end up in the canal, Terry?’

By now O’Duncie’s shirt was soaking wet with sweat, which ran in streams down the sides of his cheeks.

‘Look, I admit he was a pest, but he’d done me a favour by not telling you lot she used to stay at my crash pad. He wanted to hang out away from the heat, so I said he could stay for a few days. Someone in the house gave him a pair of my old trousers and a shirt and he left. If they give him any gear it wasn’t from me cos he had no cash.’

Bradfield sighed and drew back the photograph of Eddie and stacked it on top of Julie Ann’s.

‘We will check out your alibi. You will now be charged with drugs offences and be held in custody to appear at the Magistrates’ Court where we will ask for you to be remanded in custody. Kath, go get someone to help you take him down to the charge room with Mr Stonex, but open the fucking windows in here first.’

A few minutes later Kath returned with a uniform PC to assist her with O’Duncie. As they left the room Cato Stonex remained behind and said he wanted to have a quick word with DCI Bradfield.

‘You pulled a fast one and lied about speaking with the allegedly underage girl and her parents.’

Bradfield shook his head. ‘You’re long enough in the tooth to know how the game’s played, Cato; besides you were only worried you’d fucked up by interviewing a juvenile alone.’

‘We’re not so different: all said and done we both have a job to do.’

‘Maybe.’ Bradfield paused. ‘Where the hell did you get a name like yours from anyway?’

‘It’s a Saxon surname, Bradfield, and whether or not I like my Christian name is none of your bloody business.’

‘Right Cato, mate-o, it’s not my business but I don’t take bent money from drug dealers for payment.’

‘For what it’s worth I don’t think he killed Julie Ann and nor did Dwayne Clark.’

‘What! You met up with Dwayne?’

‘He called me. He has a cast-iron alibi. He was in Coventry to meet up with Joshua Richards, but as you know he got arrested. I’ve told Dwayne he’s making a bigger hole for himself by hiding and advised him to come in voluntarily to be interviewed.’

‘What about Eddie Phillips? Did O’Duncie or Dwayne kill him?’

‘I don’t know and that’s not my problem to solve, but no doubt we will meet again soon,’ Stonex said and left.

An angry Bradfield went to the incident room to speak with Jane about her interview with A10. She told him that once they saw the retraction statement by O’Duncie they only asked her a few questions and she confirmed his and DS Gibbs’s version of events. They informed her that no further action would be taken and DS Gibbs would be returned to duty immediately. Bradfield said nothing, he didn’t even smile, but returned stony-faced to his office slamming the door shut behind him, too preoccupied with the case to react to the good news.

It went from bad to worse later that afternoon as the knowledge that O’Duncie’s alibi had been verified quickly spread round the incident room. The Chelsea Hotel manager confirmed that O’Duncie and his girlfriend, who they discovered was seventeen, had been staying there. The initial excitement over O’Duncie’s arrest palled: their killer was still out there.

Bradfield ordered another search of the squat in Ashburn House on the Pembridge Estate by DCs Ashton and Edwards. He wanted to know if there was anyone else now staying there who had known Julie Ann, or had fresh information about her or Eddie Phillips. It was late afternoon when Bradfield and DS Lawrence, who were going over the forensics in Bradfield’s office, were interrupted by a knock at the door and DCs Ashton and Edwards walked in.

‘No one was at the squat, sir, but we found this.’ A sheepish-looking Ashton held up a dirty black bin bag.

‘It definitely wasn’t there when we first searched the place,’ Edwards nervously added and Ashton agreed.

Bradfield and Lawrence looked inside the bag. Amongst potato peelings and dirty used takeaway cartons there was a rucksack.

‘It matches the description of the one Julie Ann Collins had,’ Ashton said.

An angry-looking Bradfield grabbed the bin bag from Ashton and went to the incident room where Jane was sitting at a desk filling out some index cards. Bradfield told her to move and as she got up he cleared a space on the desk. Lawrence laid out some sheets of newspaper, put on some protective gloves and handed a pair to Bradfield who removed the rucksack from the bin bag and began to search through it. First he took out a worn-looking ‘English History’ exercise book, with ‘Julie Ann Collins’ written in large letters on the front, and placed it on the table. Lawrence picked the exercise book up and began to flick through it while Bradfield removed items of clothing from the rucksack and placed them in a pile on the table. Lawrence held the book open for Bradfield and Jane to see. ‘She was a bright girl, and look at her neat and tidy handwriting. I wonder if she was maybe thinking about going back to finish her education.’

Bradfield retrieved a chopstick from the bin bag and used it to lift and separate the clothes. There was a white cotton bra, a few stained lace panties, two pairs of worn leather ballet shoes, the soles coming away from the stitching, and a frilled Biba blouse that was covered in food stains. Jane could still smell the strong patchouli perfume emanating from the clothing.

‘Not much, but she was living rough for some time.’ Lawrence sighed.

‘Anything worth taking was probably nicked by the other kids at the squat.’

Jane just wanted to leave the room: she felt sad seeing all that was left of the dead girl. She pointed at the worn ballet slippers.

‘Her father said she wanted to be a ballet dancer.’

‘Well, she’s never going to dance any more,’ Bradfield remarked.

‘No,’ Jane replied and left him prodding at the clothing with his chopstick. It was obvious to them all there was nothing in the rucksack that would hasten the search for her killer.

Jane was in the ladies’ locker room putting on her raincoat when Kath came in with a sly grin on her face.

‘Spence is back in the office... and I’m gonna pay him back for the Vicks prank. All DCs and detective sergeants, and that includes Gibbs, have to do a first-aid refresher test on resuscitation with the St John’s Ambulance instructor...’

‘You mean mouth-to-mouth on a dummy?’

‘Yeah, well, it’s half a dummy they bring in, she’s called Resusci Anne. The old battle-axe trainer is havin’ a tea break in the canteen so I’ve only got a few minutes.’

Jane watched, rather confused, as Kath took out a lipstick from her make-up bag.

‘This is called “Crimson Blush” and it’s waterproof.’

‘What are you going to do?’ a curious Jane asked.

Kath was already on her way out of the locker room. ‘Just wait — you’ll find out soon enough.’

Jane buttoned up her raincoat, secured her locker, and then after giving her hair a brush went out into the corridor where she saw Kath come running down the stairs.

‘Gibbs has just gone in for his test. You’d better not hang about or he’ll think it was you.’

It was only a few minutes later when Gibbs, who had been irritated by being made to go through the mouth-to-mouth refresher training, stomped down the stairs. He went to the incident room to see if DS Lawrence and Bradfield had discovered anything of value from Julie Ann’s rucksack.

‘Anything of interest?’ he asked.

Bradfield glanced up as Gibbs moved closer.

‘Who’ve you been slobbering with?’ Lawrence asked.

‘He’ll be wearing a matching blouse and earrings next,’ Bradfield added with a grin.

‘What are you two talking about? I’ve been doing mouth-to-mouth on Resusci Anne and I passed, thank you very much for asking.’

Bradfield laughed. ‘I believe you, Spence, but the rest of the team won’t.’

‘I dunno what you’re talking about... I’m going to the canteen.’

‘Bring me and Paul a coffee, sweetheart,’ Bradfield said nonchalantly to the confused Gibbs as he walked out. He was totally unaware that he had bright red lipstick smudged around his lips. He found out soon enough as there were guffaws from officers in the canteen and Gladys the canteen lady told him she had the same colour lipstick.