‘You lucky so and so, Jane. I’ve never been to a proper murder one, only a routine natural-causes death. Anyway, after that DS Gibbs gave me a tip and told me to use some Vicks VapoRub – you put a bit under each nostril to avoid the stink. In fact I’ve still got the unopened pot I bought. It’s in me parade-room tray, help yourself to it.’
‘Oh, thanks, Kath, I will. Why don’t you ask if you can come as well?’
‘I’m busy already. I got a bit of info about a burglar working the Holly Street Estate over by London Fields. He’s turning over the old folks’ flats and nicking pension books and cash. DS Gibbs said I could do a plain-clothes shift with the crime squad to try and nick him on the plot. I hope it pays off, Jane, as I really want to get onto the crime squad and then get selected for detective.’
‘It would be a first for this station, Kath, a woman detective.’
‘I know! There’s only a couple of other WDCs in the Met, but I’m determined to prove myself.’
Jane smiled. ‘He of the thirty years’ experience would have a heart attack. A woman detective… what a bloody disgrace.’
‘Pissing Harris off would be a bonus,’ Kath replied and they both laughed.
Kath’s tone became serious as she continued.
‘Listen, about that bloke you mentioned, the one that threw you out of his mother’s flat. Was his name John Bentley?’
‘Well, I’m pretty sure it was. Irene Bentley was the name on the rent book and he called her Mum.’
‘Before I went off duty last night I had a quick look through the collator’s criminal index cards. There’s a Bentley whose description matches but he lives at a different address. Bit of a nasty sod from a nasty family: he’s been done for GBH.’
Jane smiled saying she was glad she hadn’t tried to dig him in the ribs with his mother’s umbrella.
‘Lucky you didn’t. From his record he’d have likely walloped you one.’
The CID office door flew open as DC Edwards came out. ‘Come on, Kath, get a move on. We need to get the obo van parked up before the suspect gets there,’ he said as he rushed past her.
‘I’m friggin’ ready so keep your hair on,’ Kath shouted and turned back to Jane. ‘I know why he wants to make a quick arrest… there’s a game of shoot pontoon followed by three-card brag in the CID office tonight and his fingers are twitching to lose his weekly expenses.’
Kath started to follow the disgruntled detective down the stairs, but stopped.
‘Listen, there’s a place coming up soon at the section house in Mare Street. It’s just down the road and would save you loads of time travelling, but you got to make it snappy or the room will go. It’s only a fiver a month as well.’
‘Thanks, Kath, I appreciate it.’
‘And have a word with the collator about the Bentleys – he’ll probably know a lot more – always good to get to know who the villains on the patch are.’
Jane went to the collator’s office on the ground floor. The post was held by PC Donaldson. Rather overweight and with thinning grey hair, he had worked at Hackney Police Station for over twenty-five years. There wasn’t much Donaldson didn’t know about who was who in Hackney’s criminal underworld. He received and collated information about criminals on the division and dispersed intelligence to the beat officers about crime trends and people wanted or suspected of a crime. His knowledge was invaluable, and he was highly respected by everyone in the station as a genuinely nice man who had time for everyone, male or female.
Donaldson flicked through the index-card drawer marked ‘B’. ‘Here it is, full name John Henry Bentley, aged thirty-seven.’ He withdrew the three cards from a plastic sleeve and handed them to Jane who looked at the black-and-white mug-shot picture on the front.
‘That’s him,’ she said.
PC Donaldson drew out two further cards from the ‘B’ drawer.
‘They’re a well-known family who’ve lived in Hackney all their lives. All of them villains and all hard as nails, apart from the mum Renee, bless her. John’s got a council house on Middleton Road and his younger brother David, who’s thirty, lives with his mother on the Pembridge.’
Jane noticed that amongst John Bentley’s convictions there was grievous bodily harm, burglary and theft. ‘Middleton Road is by London Fields, isn’t it?’
PC Donaldson nodded.
‘WPC Morgan’s doing an observation on the Holly Street Estate for a burglar nicking pension books. Do you think it might be…?’
‘No way. Nicking pension books or snatching old ladies’ handbags isn’t their style, plus John Bentley’s been clean for quite a few years. They have their own code of honour, his kind, the number one rule being you don’t grass to the police and two you don’t turn over old people. If they caught someone doing that they’d beat the crap out of them and break their fingers for good measure. That’s how John got his conviction for GBH.’
‘The victim grassed on him?’
‘No, CID heard him screaming – they caught John breaking the poor bloke’s fingers with a hammer.’
Jane winced. ‘I got the impression his mother was frightened of him.’
