End one weekend. They discovered her smoking cannabis and constant arguments followed as she became more and more difficult to handle. She had run away numerous times since she turned fifteen and had either been brought back home by the police, or turned up dishevelled and belligerent.
Her mother described how she had discovered injection marks on Julie Ann’s arm whilst she was sleeping, and how the heroin usage had made her a totally different girl. The Collinses’ grief and shock were compounded when they were told by the detectives that Julie Ann had been arrested and convicted for prostitution six months ago. Mrs Collins could not understand why her daughter would do such a thing, but it was explained that it was to feed her heroin addiction. When asked if they knew Eddie Phillips and were shown a Polaroid picture of him, they responded that they had never seen or heard of him before, nor did they know anyone who owned a red Jaguar.
Bradfield looked at Jane. ‘You still here? Do me a favour and get me a fresh pack of Woodbines, will you, as I’m out of cigarettes.’ He placed a 50p coin on the desk.
Jane wished she’d just left the sandwich and coffee on his desk. She begrudgingly picked up the coin and set off for the newsagent’s opposite. On her way downstairs she bumped into Kath, who was in a buoyant mood.
‘How did it go at the post-mortem? I can smell you from here – I bet it wasn’t very pleasant,’ she said.
Jane told Kath how interesting it had been, but decided not to mention the dead foetus in case it was something Bradfield didn’t want people outside his team to know about yet. However, she did explain how DS Spencer Gibbs’s Vicks-up-the-nose was a practical joke intended for Kath.
‘The little shite! Typical – but I’ll get him back somehow.’
‘You got your burglar then?’ Jane asked, having seen Kath in the yard.
‘It was bloody brilliant, Jane. We were parked up on the estate watching from the spy hole of the obo van when the little scrote burglar turned up. He saw an old lady come out of a flat, waited till she’d gone and then knocked on her door. When he got no answer he pulled out a jemmy from under his swanky jacket and prised the door open. I was shaking with excitement and we caught him red-handed in the bedroom with notes in his hands, and more stuffed in his pockets. She kept her life savings in a shoebox and we recovered the lot for her. I’m even listed as nicking him on the arrest sheet and I’m going to be interviewing him with a detective. There’s been quite a few old people’s flats turned over and I reckon he’s done ’em all. You know what really makes me sick? He had a wedge this thick.’ She indicated with her finger and thumb before continuing.
‘He’d got hundreds on him he’d nicked . . . Still, the cocky bugger won’t be swaggering around like he’s some rock star any more. Stealing from an old lady like that is real sicko, Jane.’
‘Well done, Kath! That’s got to be a bonus for you, and a big step towards becoming a detective.’
‘Fingers crossed, Jane, fingers crossed,’ Kath said as she hurried off to the custody room.
*
Jane got the Woodbines and was returning to Bradfield’s office when Sergeant Harris came out with a face like thunder. He glared as she approached.
‘You might think you can get round Bradfield by fluttering your eyelashes, but you can’t fool me, Tennison. Your cards are marked, so I suggest you watch your step if you want to pass your probation and be confirmed as a WPC.’
As Harris stormed off Jane couldn’t believe that he was so riled simply because she had been to a bereavement notification and a post-mortem, things she was expected to do during her probation anyway.
She knocked on Bradfield’s door, and when he told her to come in she handed him his Woodbines and his change. He thanked her, inviting her to sit down.
‘How do you get on with Harris as your reporting sergeant?’
‘Fine, sir, he’s very helpful,’ she replied unconvincingly, not daring to be honest in case Bradfield and Harris were friends.
‘What are you like at indexing?’
‘I’m not very good, sir,’ Jane said, wanting to get back to the front office before Harris boiled over.
Bradfield flicked open a file on his desk. ‘Funny that. Your application says you went to the Central London Polytechnic and did business studies, and you used to help in your father’s company during the holidays, so you must have some experience of indexing?’
‘Yes, sir, but not in murder investigations.’
‘My indexer Sally is three months pregnant. Under police regulations it means she’s due to go on maternity leave, so I need a replacement.’
Jane thought about Harris’s threat. She realized Bradfield had already told him he wanted her to do some indexing, and that was why he was so annoyed with her.
‘I’m honoured that you have asked me, sir, but I am still a probationer and—’
He interrupted her, patting a vast file on his desk.
‘It’s only temporary. Take this with you and do a few hours here and there until I find a suitable replacement. As you know, Julie Ann may have been murdered nearby and dumped, so I need to concentrate on the area close to the scene, and that means the Kingsmead Estate. There’s no way a magistrate will give me a warrant to search each and every one of the bloody flats down there. I need someone to check off all the names the occupants give in the house-to-house enquiries against the electoral register, and also check with the collator for anyone with a criminal record living down there.’
‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to start now?’
‘What a good idea, and do the same for the residents of Edgar House on the Pembridge where the squat was,’ he said with a smile.
Jane stood up to leave, and although she knew she should feel pleased with herself, she worried about Harris. But if she let Bradfield down it could jeopardize her career even further.
‘One last thing – you’re not the only one who thinks Harris is over the hill and a lazy waste of space, and I don’t think he was too pleased I just told him as much. If he gives you any hassle let me know; for now you work for me.’ He took a bite of his sandwich and pulled a face.
‘Jesus Christ, this is tuna.’
‘Is it? I’m sure I asked for ham.’
‘Never mind. Sally will give you a run-through on indexing and what to do, but first I want you to type up what Professor Martin told us at the post-mortem.’
‘Yes, sir, thank you.’
She started to go, then realized she hadn’t picked up his file. He watched her as she returned to his desk to collect it. She blushed as he smiled at her, and was so flustered she almost tripped and only just managed to hold on to the file.
‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’
‘Good, thank you.’
As she closed the door behind her, Bradfield opened his new pack of Woodbines.
*
Jane
