Tennison (35 page)

‘All of a sudden you two are lookin’ out for me when you never done it before. I was happy cleanin’ offices, meetin’ me friends and then John moves back in and takes over my friggin’ life and I don’t like it.’

‘Leave it out, Ma.’

‘I won’t because I lived with your dad and I could tell when he was up to no good, I always knew, and I’ve thought for a few weeks you two were actin’ like you were hidin’ somethin’ from me. Don’t go tellin’ me it’s down to the slag your dad’s kept payin’ for cos I don’t give a toss about her. I know she visits him in the nick and I don’t care. I never have for years, not since you fell off that bloody roof. You are the only person I care about and I won’t sit cooped up here whilst John drags you into some dirty business.’

She suddenly started to gasp, her face turning blue. She clutched her chest as she heaved for breath.

‘You see what you done to yerself? Where’s your inhaler?’

She fished into her apron pocket, found her inhaler and began to puff on it, her face now drained of colour as she gasped, her shoulders lifting up and down. David was helpless to do anything for her as the attack worsened and she sucked on the inhaler.

‘Shit, Ma, go and lie down on the sofa. You need a doctor?’

She shook her head, the inhaler pressed to her mouth. She hissed and gasped as she got unsteadily to her feet. They slowly made their way to the lounge where she flopped down onto the sofa and closed her eyes. Gradually her breathing became steadier. David stood watching, and then limped to sit on the sofa arm.

‘Are you feeling better now, Ma?’

She wafted a hand, but did not open her eyes.

‘You want me to go get a doctor?’

‘No, no, it’s all right.’

‘I can go to the phone box, ring for one.’

‘Just leave me alone for a while,’ she said, still gasping for air. Slowly she seemed to breathe more easily and relax and David watched as her eyes flickered and eventually closed. He waited until she fell asleep.

He felt exhausted after being out all night and needing to rest decided to go to his bedroom. As he passed John’s room he looked in to see if he was awake, but he was still sound asleep snoring. John’s hair was matted, and his skin looked chalky from the brick dust that permeated the café cellar as they knocked through the wall. His clothes were dust free as he had worn the white decorator’s boiler suit over the top of them, even splashing the suit with paint by flicking a wet brush at it, so as to add to the illusion they were bona fide handymen if stopped by the police.

David lay down on his bed. He started to sneeze and scared he was coming down with a cold swore to himself. The thought of spending more freezing nights in the multi-storey car park was abhorrent, but as he began to drift off to sleep thinking about Florida, he knew it would be worth it.

It was almost 10 a.m. and Jane was double-checking the number of £20 notes when Kath suddenly slapped the table with the flat of her hand and excitedly held up a wedge of £5 notes.

‘We got a match, darlin’! Look at this: the serial numbers on these fivers found at O’Duncie’s match with the cash Mr Collins withdrew. We got five hundred quid’s worth here.’

Jane’s eyes lit up. ‘Well, that much is definitely not the sort of money Julie Ann would have given O’Duncie for food and accommodation, and surely she wouldn’t buy that much worth of heroin in one go.’

‘Fuck me, this is going to brighten up DCI Bradfield’s morning. There’s other fivers here but they’re not on the list so probably money O’Duncie made from selling drugs.’

PC Donaldson spoke up. ‘I was going to wait until I’d finished double-checking all the tens to tell you, but I’ve got seventy that match the list.’

Kath counted on her fingers. ‘That’s a grand two hundred so far of nicked money O’Duncie’s got.’

Jane grinned. ‘There’s only the £1 notes still to check but that shouldn’t take long as Mr Collins only withdrew five hundred of them.’

‘Well, that deserves a coffee and sandwich break,’ Kath said as she picked up a £5 note from the table. ‘What do ya fancy, Jane?’

Jane was stunned and didn’t know what to say until she saw the sly grin come over Kath’s face.

‘Only jokin’, but you can pay as we’ve helped you out here.’

Jane agreed and said there was money in her handbag. Kath snapped off her rubber gloves and asked Jane to carefully put the fives and tens that matched the list in the box to be sent to the fingerprint department.

PC Donaldson said he’d do the £1 notes with Jane while Kath went to the canteen.

She saw Bradfield there and he asked how it was going. She didn’t want to steal Jane’s thunder and simply said WPC Tennison had some good news for him. He was out of the canteen like a shot.

As Kath had anticipated Bradfield was jubilant, clapping his hands and full of praise for a job well done as he now had something concrete to put to O’Duncie, though he would have to wait until his solicitor Cato Stonex arrived to do a further interview, sadly without DS Gibbs. However, he was straight on the phone to tell A10 about the money and that WPC Tennison was available to make a statement that the young girl in the bedroom had lied about seeing DS Gibbs assault O’Duncie. The A10 DCI didn’t sound happy, even though Bradfield and Gibbs were ‘one of their own’, and said they would attend the station to speak with Tennison in the afternoon.

After another half-hour Jane was also able to tell Bradfield that there was a total of £180 in £1 notes that matched the serial numbers on the list, making a recovered total of £1,380 in different banknotes stolen by Julie Ann Collins from her father. He asked Jane to put the box of money in a confidential dispatch bag, secure it well with a numbered ratchet seal and get two uniform PCs in a patrol car to take it to the lab for the attention of DS Lawrence asap. She was then to come to his office.

‘Sit down, Jane. I just wanted to have a chat so that it’s clear why I have not invited you to sit in on the interview with O’Duncie. I know you have the record of all the individual notes and amounts that matched, but A10 are coming in to talk to you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So it’s not possible for you to be in two places at once, right? So I’ve asked Kath instead.’

‘I understand, sir, and I’m grateful you even considered having me present for the interview.’

‘You’ve done a good job, Tennison, and learnt a valuable lesson about procedure, though I admit I should have advised you better after the search and seizure of the money.’

‘You did, sir, but I was a bit confused and misunderstood you,’ she said, revealing her loyalty and what she intended to tell A10.

‘You’re entitled to have your constables’ federation rep present when they interview you.’

‘Do I need to?’ she asked nervously.

‘No, but I would advise that you do. They play on inexperience, will try and twist what you say and can be threatening about a probationer’s future career. It can be pretty daunting. PC Donaldson is the PCs’ rep and he will stamp down on them if they try anything on with you.’

‘Thank you, sir, I appreciate the advice and I won’t let you down again.’

‘I’m counting on that, Tennison, especially if you hope to join the CID as a detective someday.’

She blushed at his words and he cocked his head to one side, smiling.

‘You look cute when you do that, you know. You get two pink spots on your cheeks.’

Jane returned to the incident room, followed by Bradfield. Kath thought she looked nervous and upset, unaware that she actually felt pleased. Kath turned to everyone and wafted her hand to get their attention.

‘Listen up, we got a major link from WPC Tennison. She painstakingly matched serial numbers on the banknotes brought in from O’Duncie’s drug squat.’

Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened to Kath as she continued.

‘She discovered that nearly one and a half grand matched to the money withdrawn from the bank by Mr Collins, money subsequently stolen by his daughter Julie Ann.’

There was a round of applause, and Jane blushed again.

Bradfield looked at her, smiling. ‘She’s got us all out of a sticky patch and hopefully O’Duncie will now withdraw his allegations and DI Spencer Gibbs will be reinstated.’

The applause now turned to a cheer at the mention of the admired and well-respected Gibbs.

Sergeant Harris overheard the applause as he walked into the office carrying an envelope in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. It was rather eerie but more so for Harris, when on seeing him everyone went quiet, revealing their loathing of the man.

‘What can we do for you, Sarge?’ Kath asked.

‘There’s a Cato Stonex at the front counter, says he’s—’

‘Get that bastard O’Duncie brought up from the cells to my office, Sergeant Harris, but give me some time alone with Stonex first,’ Bradfield said and slapped his thigh with Jane’s report on the seized banknotes. He was really looking forward to the interview, especially with Cato present as well.

Jane wondered why Harris had come upstairs himself as normally he’d bark at the front-desk PC to pass on something to the CID. She looked questioningly at Kath who shrugged her shoulders.

Harris hesitated and Bradfield asked him if there was anything else. He nervously held up the envelope. ‘Yes, sir, an officer found these papers left in the PCs’ writing room and thought they might belong to Tennison.’ He put the envelope on the table, turned swiftly and walked out, his nose very much out of joint.

Jane didn’t really need to look in the envelope: she knew it was her lost list and the property-store receipt. She peeped inside, then looked at Kath and gave her a thumbs-up.

Bradfield leaned towards the two of them. ‘What was that about?’

‘Nothing, sir, it’s just my application form for the section house,’ Jane said, deciding it was over and done with where Harris was concerned and he probably wouldn’t be on her back again.

As Bradfield walked out, Kath moved closer to Jane. ‘That was good, you could have put that two-faced Harris bastard right in it, but you’re learning fast, means you got one over that bugger and he’ll know it.’

Cato Stonex wore a grey suit, blue shirt with a starched white stud collar, cufflinks and a dark navy tie. He was rather good-looking and very overconfident as he entered Bradfield’s office carrying a large bulging briefcase.

‘Good morning,’ Bradfield said but did not get up. He simply gestured to the seat opposite him and introduced WPC Morgan.

‘You need to know that your client has been using you for his own malicious ends.’

‘Well, I would refute that, DCI Bradfield, especially as I have a witness who was present when DS Gibbs struck Mr O’Duncie in the bedroom.’

‘She lied for him. WPC Tennison, who will be making a statement to A10, was already taking her downstairs when your client fell and broke his nose trying to escape arrest. I was also a witness to this and the fact O’Duncie tried to bribe me and DS Gibbs.’

‘Well, the young lady seemed truthful enough to me when I interviewed her, and it’s well known police officers protect, sorry, corroborate, each other like a “band of brothers”.’

Bradfield smiled. ‘She’s fifteen years old, so that means you took a statement from her illegally with no adult present to confirm it. O’Duncie was having unlawful sexual intercourse with her at the time we entered the room. It’s a statutory offence as he’s over twenty-four so it doesn’t matter if he thought she was sixteen . . . ’

Stonex was about to say something but Bradfield held up his hand. ‘Please let me finish . . . then there’s administering drugs, which he gave her before sex, to facilitate intercourse, which done to a fifteen-year-old is technically rape as I see it. That’s what we’re telling her poor parents as well.’

This was all news to Kath and something Bradfield had obviously kept to himself for the interview with good reason.

Stonex sat back in his chair, sniffed and rubbed his nose. He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘You have been brushing up on your law, DCI Bradfield.’

‘Well, I hate to see an upstanding solicitor like yourself had over by a lowlife drug dealer like O’Duncie, who won’t even be able to pay your fees.’

There was a look of disbelief on Stonex’s face as he asked what he meant. Bradfield went into detail about the money that had been stolen by Julie Ann from her father. He explained how £2,780 was found in Terry O’Duncie’s room and the serial numbers on a total of £1,380 worth of different-denomination notes matched to the list provided by the bank. He added that the stolen banknotes were now all at the Yard being treated for fingerprints to be checked against those of their two victims, Mr Collins and O’Duncie himself.

‘Nearly half the money seized is stolen and the rest believed to be the proceeds of drugs, so that leaves your client without a pot to piss in and facing a charge that he murdered Julie Ann Collins for the money.’

‘So you’re saying you won’t be restoring the money?’

‘Correct, and he will also be charged with possession with intent to supply heroin and marijuana, and with various other drugs offences. No doubt with his previous he will be sent to prison for a long stretch, but should it transpire that any of the money’s legit then it could be restored to you as his solicitor.’

‘On the assumption—’

‘That we have ironed out the situation with your client’s false accusations regarding his broken nose and DS Gibbs stealing any money,’ Bradfield said and laid out the photographs of Julie Ann Collins’ body.

‘Your client has essentially denied knowing this victim as a close acquaintance, but as you’ve just heard we now have evidence to the contrary, not to mention her finger-prints in his bedroom at the squat. How you choose to break the good news to him is up to you.’

‘Well, I certainly think it’s time I had a serious conversation with him,’ Stonex replied, annoyed that he’d been made a fool of, not only by O’Duncie but also by Bradfield who was one step ahead of the game.

‘Good, WPC Morgan will escort you down to the cells.’

Cato Stonex hesitated but Bradfield pushed back his chair and stood up, checking his watch.

‘We can reconvene in say twenty minutes or so.’