style="font-size:15px;"> ‘If that’s what you want. Wearing out the carpet though, isn’t he?’ Gibbs said.
Jane dried her hands, still listening, easing down the roller towel.
‘Get someone down to that hospital tonight and see if they keep phone records for calls made. I’m interested in the day she was last seen and three days prior. O’Duncie’s a bit dim, and I doubt she can tell the bloody time, so I want every call checked from between 1 to 6 p.m. for that period.’
‘No problem, guv, and it shouldn’t be difficult to link a number to this Paddy guy . . . if he’s not ex-directory, that is.’
‘I feel like I’m losing the plot, Spence, and I’m totally knackered. That young Tennison is as sharp as a tack, maybe too sharp for her own good.’
‘Me and the lads are going for a few pints down the Warburton Arms and then for a curry in Brick Lane. Why don’t you join us?’
‘I might take you up on that.’
‘Have you seen this?’
‘What?’
Gibbs pointed to the notice on the locker-room door.
‘Any money it’s Kath Morgan having a moan – “LADIES ONLY” I’m taking that down . . . Better still, I’m gonna take a crap in there and not flush it.’
Bradfield laughed. ‘Come on, let’s finish the card game and get down to the pub.’
Jane sighed with relief as she heard them leave. She waited a few more moments before she eased the door open to make sure the coast was clear.
Jane was in work early the next morning, in order to try and clear the investigation ‘IN’ tray before the office meeting at 10 a.m. She checked her own tray in the PCs’ writing room and was surprised to see the Jaguar brochures there. There was a note saying that the sales garage receptionist had dropped them off on her way home, rather than posting them. Jane left the brochures, along with the reports about the Jaguar cars and the flying squad information, on DCI Bradfield’s desk and managed to get a big pile of indexing done before he walked in at eight thirty.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said politely.
‘No, Tennison, it’s not a good morning,’ he replied gruffly.
His grey suit was badly creased, his Windsor-knot tie loose and top shirt button undone. He had a face like thunder, and it was obvious he was very hungover from the previous evening’s gambling and drinking session.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ Jane asked.
‘Not unless you can conjure up more staff or know where Eddie Phillips is!’ he snapped.
‘I could make some enquiries about Phillips with—’
Jane was about to say the collator but was cut off by Bradfield.
‘No, you can get a “Wanted” telex circulated Met-wide with his details and description. Also, put it out over the local radio to all the uniform patrol officers. There’s a bottle of Scotch up for whoever finds and nicks him first – two bottles if it’s before midday.’
Jane selected Eddie’s index card from the carousel and started to copy his details down onto a message pad when she was interrupted by Bradfield handing her a £1 note. He said he’d be in his office with DS Gibbs and they both wanted coffee and a bacon sandwich.
*
Jane wasn’t happy about being used as a personal waitress, but she’d already been warned by Kath that when a senior officer told you to do something you did as asked or your cards were marked. First she went to the control room and sent out the telex and radio message regarding Eddie Phillips. Next Jane got the bacon sandwiches and coffees, then with a forced smile took them into Bradfield’s office. Gibbs was also hungover and stank of stale booze. For once his manic energy had been stifled – he wasn’t even tapping on the table, playing drums as he usually liked to do.
Once back in the incident room Jane continued with the indexing. The eight detectives on the squad gradually came in to book on before wandering off for some breakfast. Most of them were polite, asked who she was and introduced themselves, but there were two or three who seemed to turn their noses up at her and didn’t have the courtesy to even say good morning. One of them even had the cheek to ask her to get him a cup of tea, but she fibbed and told him DCI Bradfield had said that she wasn’t to be the tea lady for junior officers. It had the desired result as the detective grunted and walked off without a word. She was learning fast.
Two detectives were in the office when Kath came in with a face like thunder.
‘Which one of you lot thought it would be amusing to draw on my notice?’ she bellowed and waved the sign from the ladies’ locker room above her head.
Jane could see a drawing of testicles and a large penis, the head of which had a smiley face on it.
‘If it happens again then I will be taking fucking fingerprints. Yours are all on file and I’ll easily find the culprit, so leave my notices alone.’
The two detectives laughed and said it was nothing to do with them.
‘Just like cling film on the toilet bowl, I suppose? Use your own bloody loo, or next time I’ll have your tackle hanging from the door.’
‘Ouch,’ they both said as they left for the canteen. Although Jane agreed with Kath, and thought it was a very childish prank, she had to force herself not to giggle. She suspected the drawing was DS Gibbs’s work, having heard him chatting to Bradfield outside the locker room the previous evening, but she kept quiet.
‘Good for you, Kath.’
‘Bloody detectives are supposed to be experienced and mature, but they behave more like a bunch of kids. They even come on duty and go straight off to the canteen for breakfast.’
‘I know – in uniform we don’t even get a cuppa after parade because we have to go straight out on patrol.’
Kath shook her head and having calmed herself down said she’d help Jane with the indexing before the meeting.
*
The team gathered in the small office, some sitting on chairs whilst others perched on the edge of desks. When DCI Bradfield entered with DS Gibbs everyone stood up and the DCI motioned with his hands for them to sit down. He pointed in the direction of Kath and Jane.
‘I’m sure most of you already know WPC Morgan. She’ll be working with us for a few days and—’
A detective interjected. ‘If you can’t see Kath, you’ll always be able to hear her coming, guv.’ He then made the sound of a foghorn which caused ripples of laughter round the room. Kath refrained from responding and simply smiled.
Bradfield continued, ‘And this is WPC Tennison, who’s filling in for Sally for a bit whilst she’s on maternity leave.’
‘How’s
