might interfere with the course of the investigation.
Harris stood up. ‘You three go and write up your arrest notes. I’ll take the pervert’s prints and we’ll also have a little chat as to why he shouldn’t hit police officers . . . especially female officers.’
Harris grabbed the prisoner by the scruff of his neck and literally lifted him off his feet, hauled him towards the fingerprint room and slammed him up against the wall while he opened the door. As Allard cried out, Harris looked over his shoulder at Jane. ‘The results of the probationer’s final exams are in envelopes on the duty desk.’
Jane hurried to the duty desk and, finding the envelope with her name on it, tucked it into her pocket and joined Moran and Edwards in the CID office.
Moran handed her a CID pocket book and said that while she was on attachment any arrests, interview notes, etc., were to be recorded in it. Jane felt honoured to be given the book. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome. It would be best if you write the notes, then myself and Edwards can agree and countersign them from the point where we tackled the suspect. Edwards, help Jane, will you? I’ll write up the notes from our perspective in the obo van.’ He pointed to the kettle in the corner and asked Jane to make him a coffee, then left the room.
As Jane wrote up the arrest notes Edwards said he’d make the coffee. She took the results envelope out of her pocket, placed it on the table and stared at it. When Edwards asked why she wasn’t opening it she replied that it wasn’t because she thought she had failed, it was more that she was worried about getting a good mark. She decided she would open it when she got back to the section house later.
Edwards snatched the envelope from the table and Jane tried to grab it back, but he held it up high out of her reach. As soon as she backed off slightly he quickly opened the envelope, pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it.
‘Bloody hell! You passed with flying colours . . . ninety-four per cent! You little swot – you’ll be a sergeant before we know it!’
Despite being annoyed by Edwards’s antics, Jane was thrilled with the result. ‘I’ve only just about completed my two years’ probation, so I don’t have enough service to sit the sergeant’s exam.’
‘Anyone with two years’ service can apply to sit the exam, but you’ll need the recommendation of a senior officer to do it.’
‘I’m not really interested in uniform promotion at the moment, though. First and foremost I’d like to become a detective.’
‘Well, your good work tonight will help, that’s for sure,’ Edwards replied, as Moran returned.
‘You two should be getting on with your notes, not yapping. When you’ve finished bring them to me in my office, Tennison, and I’ll check them.’
With Edwards’s assistance it didn’t take Jane long to write up the notes on her arrest. Edwards pointed out that although Harris had ‘led’ her through why she used the truncheon it was best, in accordance with the Met instruction book, that she say she aimed for the suspect’s elbow, but he suddenly ducked and she unintentionally hit his head.
‘Also, don’t write anything about the kicks to his ribs or how he got the cut to his face, or the nosebleed. He fell while trying to escape, OK?’
Jane felt a sudden chill. It was as if she was back sitting at home with DCI Bradfield when he had asked her to tell a similar lie after DS Gibbs had assaulted the black drug dealer, Terrence O’Duncie, during the Julie Ann Collins murder investigation.
‘You all right, Jane, you look a bit pale?’
‘Yes, fine. I know the score about the injuries . . . I’ve been down that road before. You know, I didn’t actually see a knife in the suspect’s hand?’
‘He told you he had one, so what’s the problem?’
‘Did you see DI Moran find that knife?’
Edwards frowned.
‘No . . . but if he said he found it in the suspect’s pocket then that’s good enough for me. Hang on, are you suggesting he might have planted evidence?’
Jane could tell he was upset by her insinuation. ‘No, not at all. If he did actually have a knife on him then I am even more worked up about what could have happened to me. I didn’t realize he was suspected of the rape as well . . . I thought it was just indecent assaults.’
‘There is no strong evidence. The victim had been out celebrating her seventeenth birthday and was attacked from behind on her way home. She didn’t see his face, but she did see a flick knife, and the suspect even said he had a knife and told her not to scream. DI Moran’s been dealing with it and he wanted to see how the prisoner would react when told he was a suspect . . . It certainly got him fired up, so you never know, Moran might be right.’
‘Why didn’t he mention that he suspected the same person to me before the operation?’
‘He told me not to mention it to you as he didn’t want to make you worried about being a decoy. In hindsight, after what happened tonight, maybe he should have told you . . . But as I said he’s got no evidence the same man committed the rape. It’s just an assumption based on some similarities to the indecent assaults.’
Jane didn’t reply. She read through her notes again and then went to Moran’s office and handed him the pocket book to read. She watched with interest and observed that he had a habit of nodding as he was reading. She hoped it was a sign that he was agreeing with her notes.
He smiled and looked up at her. ‘Good explanation for the use of a truncheon, but a defence lawyer will accuse you of intentionally aiming for the head. The bit where the suspect said “I’ve got a knife . . . so keep your mouth shut, you fucking thieving whore” – is that, and the rest of what he said, word for word?’
‘Yes, as far as I can recall, sir.’
Moran had a look of contempt in his eyes, but not for Jane. ‘Nasty piece of work, isn’t he? These notes are good, Tennison. Brief, yet concise and covering the relevant points about his attempted escape. You can elaborate further about the operation and how scared you were in your statement . . . but do that tomorrow, as I’m sure you’ll want to get off for some shut-eye soon.’
‘Not really, I still feel wide awake.’
‘That’s the adrenalin still pumping after making such a good arrest,’ he said, as he countersigned the arrest notes and handed the pocket book back to Jane.
‘You’ll need to get Harris to sign them as well, as he’s the duty sergeant and he booked in the prisoner. Oh, and the rabbit fur jacket . . . can you leave it on the chair there? It’s evidence in a case, so I need to put it back in the property store.’
Jane removed the jacket. ‘Thanks for letting me use it, sir, it kept me warm.’ She placed it on the chair and left the room.
As she went downstairs to the front office she was surprised to see Sergeant Harris at the duty desk, though he was reading The Sun while drinking coffee and puffing away on a pipe. Jane asked him if he would sign her notes and handed him the pocket book.
‘Oh, CID notebook now, is it? Uniform IRB not good enough for you
