out of ten, Inspector Clouseau . . . and maybe even involved in your murder. We nicked him and turned over his drum but found nothing from the Yid shop.’
Jane was irritated by his Clouseau remark, and confused by his jargon. ‘Excuse me, but a Yid and a drum?’
‘You’re fairly new Old Bill, ain’t ya? A Yid’s a Jewish person, a drum’s a house and we searched it. The Eyetie’s on an ID parade 11 a.m. tomorrow morning at Stoke Newington nick, so if Bradfield has any witness he wants to eyeball the line-up then bring ’em over.’
She scribbled the information down as fast as she could.
‘I’ll make sure he gets these details.’
Jane watched as the two flying squad officers walked away. The one who’d touched her had a strange gait, a sort of slow swagger, his hands cutting across the front of his body.
Kath came into the room just as they neared the door. The detective in the kipper tie stopped and stood in the doorway. ‘Hello, Kath, you’re looking as lovely as ever. You doing anything tonight . . .?’
Kath brushed him aside. ‘Piss off, Duke,’ she said and the two detectives laughed as they went.
Kath sat down opposite Jane. ‘Bloody flying squad, they think they’re movie stars. The gobby one’s called Duke because he swaggers around like the actor John Wayne. He used to work here before he went on the flying squad. You gotta watch him as he’s got WHT.’
Jane smiled, realizing the significance of his walk for his nickname, and asked Kath what illness WHT was.
‘Wandering-hand trouble, very touchy-feely, and if he tries anything on with you, confront him.’
‘I already have. He squeezed my backside and I told him it was unacceptable behaviour.’
‘Be firmer next time – they think they can get away with anything so if he tries it again tell him you’ll report him.’
‘Right, I will.’
‘And at the same time give his wandering hands a good swipe. There’s a few times I’d have liked to have slapped his face, I can tell you.’
‘How’s it going with your burglar?’
‘Brilliant. We searched his house and he had a big wedge of cash stashed in a tin box under his bed. He admitted it was stolen from various OAPs’ flats on different estates. Looks like he’s going to cough to a good few burglaries when we interview him, and the detective working with me reckons Bradfield will be well impressed.’
Jane congratulated Kath on her good work and told her how Bradfield had asked her to do some indexing for him.
‘You’re kidding me! That poor Sally was run off her pregnant feet – they should have replaced her weeks ago. I’d hate to be doing Bradfield’s indexing because he’s a lazy sod when it comes to paperwork. Listen, I’ve already heard Sergeant Harris moaning about it downstairs and that’s why I came to see how you’re getting on.’
As they spoke DCI Bradfield walked into the room and glared at Jane. ‘Why did you give the post-mortem report to DCS Metcalf before I read it?’
‘I didn’t, sir, I left it on your desk and he found it when he was looking for you.’
‘The DCS likes to snoop about, so in future put stuff for me in a sealed envelope with my name on it. Get me a coffee and a ham, not tuna or egg, sandwich,’ he said sternly and turned to Kath.
‘I’ve been hearing about your successful arrest and the recovery of a large sum of money, WPC Morgan. Good work. Tell me, what uniform shift are you on at the moment?’
Kath explained that she worked alongside Jane and was also on late shift, but had booked a few days’ leave as from tomorrow to visit her sister in Brighton.
‘Listen, Kath, I could do with an extra pair of hands helping on this investigation as I’m short-staffed.’
‘OK, guv, I’ll cancel my leave, but I’ll need to sort it with Sergeant Harris first.’
‘Leave him to me – you’re on board as from tomorrow.’ He turned to leave the room.
Jane raised her hand. ‘I’ve been making some enquiries about Jaguar cars, sir, and I—’
‘Later, Tennison, I’m busy – remember I don’t want tuna or egg, just straight ham and a black coffee.’
*
Tired out, Jane returned to Bradfield’s office with a coffee and sandwich. The room was filled with clouds of smoke and the smell of the pungent Woodbine cigarettes he favoured. He pulled at his tie to loosen his collar, and handed her back the post-mortem report, telling her to index and file it. She felt as if she was invisible to him and thought he might have at least thanked her or complimented her on the report, like the DCS had done. He also wanted her to write up on the team noticeboard that an office meeting would be held tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, and everyone was to be present without fail. One of his detectives had been back to the Homerton Hospital’s Drug Dependency Unit and made enquiries, speaking to a doctor, nurses and some of the drug-addict patients. Although Julie Ann Collins was known to them no one had seen her for two weeks and, even more surprisingly, nobody knew she was pregnant. The doctor assigned to her case was not forthcoming, stating that patient confidentiality was of the utmost importance when treating drug addicts. The detective had, however, spoken briefly with a social worker at the hospital, a large, mixed-race woman called Anjali O’Duncie, who said she had known Julie Ann well, and Eddie. Bradfield said O’Duncie was being brought into the station at 6.15 p.m., having agreed to be interviewed about the last time she saw Julie Ann.
‘I want you to be present when I interview her. You need to take notes of what O’Duncie has to say and then type them up.’
She nodded and he gave an open-handed gesture.
‘Have you got all that?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What are you waiting for? Go on, hop it.’
Jane went back to the incident room and slumped onto a chair. She was near to tears and bit her lip. Kath put an arm round her. ‘You all right, darlin’?’
‘I am so exhausted, Kath, I’ve been working flat out. Why do I get the feeling I’m just being used?’
‘Cheer up, I’ll be “on board” as from tomorrow, so I can help you,’ Kath said. She understood how Jane was feeling as she’d been through it herself, though she’d been much more savvy than Jane when she’d first joined.
‘I’ve just got so much to do, and he keeps on giving me more things. It’s typing up one report after another and then all the indexing that Sally didn’t do.’
‘Take it easy, luv. At least Bradfield’s trusting you to sit in with a possible witness, so although he may not say it something must have impressed him.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right because I’d rather be in the front office covering the counter and putting up with Harris than being the CID’s
