from her mug of coffee and checked her watch.
‘They’ve been in there with Eddie Phillips for ages. Wonder if they got anything out of him about the phone call that fat woman O’Duncie overheard Julie Ann making?’
As if on cue Bradfield walked in and tossed the crime scene and post-mortem photographs onto Jane’s desk.
‘Stick these up on the wall and get someone to empty the waste bin full of Eddie Phillips’ puke in my office. There’s a bit on the floor that needs cleaning as well.’
Kath frowned. ‘Eh, by someone do you mean us, sir? No cleaner will be around at this time. We had a drunk in the cells the other night that shat on the mattress and—’
‘I don’t care, just get me a coffee first and then get it cleaned up.’
Kath huffed as she left to get him a coffee.
‘How did it go with Eddie Phillips, sir?’ Jane asked.
‘We made some progress and got a couple of black drug dealers’ names out of him, but by his description of one of them he’s seen too many movies.’
Bradfield lit a cigarette and told Jane he wanted her to ring the drug squad at Scotland Yard to see if they knew them. He said the main man was described by Eddie Phillips as a huge bloke nicknamed Big Daddy. The other was his mate Dwayne and according to Eddie they passed Julie Ann round like a rag doll, screwing her in return for heroin.
‘The phone call from the hospital . . . maybe she was calling Big Daddy, not Paddy . . .’
Bradfield raised his eyebrows and Jane realized her comment was a bit like telling him to suck eggs.
‘Maybe, but it was rather strange that when I mentioned to Mr Collins that his daughter made a phone call he never asked who to.’
Jane now realized why Bradfield had paused when he mentioned the phone call to Mr Collins.
‘You think she may have phoned her father for money?’ Bradfield tapped his nose twice and it reminded Jane of Shaw Taylor on Police 5 when he used his catchphrase ‘Keep ’em peeled’ when asking viewers to be observant.
Jane continued, ‘Thing is, if she was calling her father then you’d expect she’d know her home phone number and wouldn’t need to ask the switchboard for it. She could maybe have wanted money for an abortion.’
‘Might not have been approved by a registered practitioner, but a back-street abortionist would do it for cash,’ he said, and cocked his head to one side at her concerned expression.
‘It’s so tragic, and it just gets murkier and murkier – every chance in life and she goes off the rails. Do you think something drove her to go against her parents and turn her back on them?’
He shrugged his shoulders: Jane seemed so naive. It got murkier all right, and sometimes it weighed you down. The upside would be when they found the killer, and he knew they would start a fresh round of enquiries now. The case had at last warmed up.
‘Trying to sort out the time frame isn’t easy – three months pregnant, calls from the hospital wanting money . . . Eddie sees her getting into a red Jag about an hour later and swears it was the last time he saw her. She then goes missing for almost two weeks. I dunno – can you type it all up in chronological order for me?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes, certainly, sir.’ She flushed as she looked at him. Something she hadn’t noticed previously was how blue his eyes were, and unlike most red-headed people, his eyelashes were incredibly dark.
‘Is there something else?’ he asked.
‘No, sir.’
Kath returned with a coffee and handing it to Bradfield told him there was a clean bin in his office but she’d need Dettol to sort out his carpet.
‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said, and left the room.
Kath followed him out muttering under her breath, ‘Right, sir, every single DC’s done a runner which just leaves me, so I’ll go get an effing bucket and mop.’
Jane set to work on the time frame, as Bradfield had asked her to do. Kath eventually reappeared wearing yellow Marigold gloves and grinning.
‘Christ, now I stink of Dettol. There was more than just a bit of puke on the floor and boy did it smell.’
‘I’m sorry, I should have helped you.’
‘Don’t be, all done and dusted and at least he didn’t crap everywhere . . . I wouldn’t clean that up for anybody. DS Gibbs is taking a shower – the kid puked over him and his pointy shoes.’
‘Not his winkle-pickers?’ Jane remarked, knowing how upset he’d be.
‘You want a laugh, come with me . . . come on.’
Jane smiled, put some carbon paper between two blank sheets of paper and popped them into the typewriter.
‘Come on, hurry up.’
Curious about what Kath was so eager to show her, Jane followed her out of the room.
‘By the way, Kath, I’m going to the continuation training centre tomorrow for that lecture by the forensic scientist, so I won’t be in.’
‘Ah pity. It’s one of the detectives’ thirtieth birthdays, so you’ll miss a big piss-up in the office. God, they can pack it away. Why don’t you pop in after CTC for a drink and get to know the team a bit better?’
They headed down the stone stairs to the basement, Kath leading the way.
‘I’ll see how I feel,’ Jane said.
‘Sometimes letting your hair down is good for releasin’ all the bloody tensions, Jane, but it’s up to you.’
Kath stopped outside the men’s locker room, inched the door open and leaned in.
‘Ah pity, I think we missed it.’
Jane was still confused as to why they were there.
Kath looked at her. ‘He was givin’ a rendition of Gerry and the Pacemakers before, you know he sings in this band . . . no, hang on . . . shush and listen.’
Jane was anxious to get back to finishing the time frame, but Kath waved her hands for her to be quiet. From the gents’ shower room wafted the unexpectedly clear voice of DS Gibbs loudly singing the Moody Blues song, ‘Nights In White Satin’.
Kath gave a gleeful shrug of her shoulders and whispered that when she could afford it she was going to buy one of those new small tape recorders, as Gibbs continued singing.
‘Kath, I should get back to my desk,’ Jane said, turning to the stairs, but Kath grabbed her arm.
‘No, listen, keep listening . . .’
Kath started mimicking Gibbs quietly in a sing-along, but the more she got carried away the louder her voice became. As Kath’s reached a crescendo Gibbs’s suddenly went
