‘No, it wasn’t about the lease, it was Mrs Charles cutting out labels from the suits and binning them. There was another stack of labels next to her with “Mannie Charles” on them.’
He said nothing as he was more concerned about the fact the café was next door to the bank. But he made a mental note to have a word with the detective who had been taking the orders for the suits. He had assumed it was just a few off-the-peg, cut-price Horne Brothers suits for some of the Hackney CID officers, and that Mannie was altering them to size, but judging by the amount of suits in the back room he suspected half of East London’s CID were being kitted out and was curious as to why the labels needed to be changed. He sighed to himself as he realized the last thing he needed was A10 breathing down his neck again over a load of hooky suits.
David had watched the couple exit from the tailor’s, confident he had been right and they were customers, as the tall man was now carrying a suit-bag. An hour later Mannie and his wife locked up their shop and drove off. David was shivering again with the cold, his back ached and his leg was throbbing. It was going to be yet another long freezing night.
‘I let you out on the streets and you go stirring up a hornet’s nest, which results in Bradfield giving me another dressing down for not taking some nutter’s call seriously,’ Harris barked at her.
Jane had arrived for early turn the following morning only to find once again she was posted to the front desk by a furious Sergeant Harris who started shouting at her before she’d even removed her coat.
She didn’t bother to say anything back to him, and when he asked what was going on she simply said DCI Bradfield had told her she wasn’t to discuss it with anyone. This angered Harris more, but she was actually quite pleased that it did.
‘I dunno what this place is coming to. She’s not got either the experience or know-how and gets lucky with some banknotes, and the next minute she’s been bloody promoted. I’ve thirty years’ hard graft under my belt that seems to mean F-all to some people.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘WPC Kathleen Morgan. She’s like a Cheshire cat now she’s been made acting detective. She’s always put it about and used her equipment to get what she wants, and as for her stinking perfume… ’
Jane let him rant on, and he didn’t even seem to notice her walk off to deal with someone at the front counter. Just after ten o’clock, Jane went for her break and popped into the incident room to find Kath.
It was already a hive of activity and there were numerous officers she hadn’t seen at the station before. From the way they appeared, some with long hair and scruffy clothes, others smart but casual, and a couple in workman’s clothes, she guessed they were probably surveillance officers.
Jane noticed the index carousel was empty and Kath was boxing everything to do with the now-solved Julie Ann Collins case.
‘Congratulations, Kath, on your well-deserved appointment as an acting detective.’
‘I am over the bloody moon. I couldn’t believe it when the boss said it was in recognition of the Kenneth Boyle arrest and my work matching the banknotes, which cracked the Julie Ann murder case.’ She breathed on her nails and rubbed them on her jacket.
‘Well, I am jealous. I mean it’s going to be a long time for me to be even considered for the CID as I’ve got to complete my probation.’
Jane looked around at everyone. ‘What’s going on?’
Kath gestured to all the new officers.
‘They’re taking over the incident room for the John Bentley investigation and Bradfield has called for everyone to attend the briefing. I heard him tell Gibbs he wants you in on it as well.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jane asked excitedly.
‘Yeah, anyway, I hope they don’t stick me in that stinking surveillance van. One time the buggers left me on my own while they went to the pub – I was in it for four hours sweating like a pig and bursting for a pee.’
DS Gibbs walked in wearing his long black worn leather coat and black ankle boots.
‘Morgan, can you head up to the canteen and tell everyone on the team to come down in five minutes as Bradfield wants to get the meeting under way sooner rather than later.’
When Kath left he took Jane to one side.
‘You may be right about Bentley being up to something.’
She blushed and admitted that at one point she had been terrified she might be wrong.
‘You may still be, but fair dues, you stuck to your guns, even under pressure from me,’ he said smiling.
She thanked him and leaving the room felt downhearted that he hadn’t said anything about her being back on the team. Kath had obviously misheard.
She walked past Bradfield’s office and paused.
‘Where you off to, Tennison?’ she heard Bradfield shout from behind her and stopped.
‘The canteen for refs,’ she said without turning, not wanting him to see the disappointment on her face.
‘Get me a coffee and a pack of Bourbons while you’re there.’
God, he’s got a cheek, she thought to herself.
