‘There’ll be a copy of the property-store receipt for the money in the store; the pages in the book are carbon so the amount Harris recorded will still be there.’
‘Harris didn’t tell me that!’
‘Come on, Jane, he’s trying to mess with your head, darlin’. Let’s hope to God we do find all the money intact, cos if some of it’s gone walkabout more hell will break loose. Oh! By the way, how was the wedding?’
‘Pretty awful, I’m glad it’s all over.’
‘Ah, didn’t get the leg-over the best man then? Never mind, eh?’
Kath spoke with the property-store officer, who obviously had a soft spot for her. He said he’d open up early, though it was nearly eight by the time he’d finished a second round of toast and marmalade. A10 had not taken the money and Jane signed out the same canvas bag that Harris had put in the safe; the copy receipt showed £2,780 cash in notes but not how much there was of each denomination.
As an afterthought, in case someone had been light-fingered, Kath booked out the money she’d seized from Kenneth Boyle’s bedroom to recount it. Jane was glad Kath was with her; she knew the ropes and, as usual, was a calming influence. She confided in Jane that it always took a long time before stolen money could be returned as it took ages to determine who had the legal right to it. Jane asked what happened if there was more money left over than could be legally accounted for.
‘Supposed to go to the Treasury and be used for good causes, but before that a few quid often goes missing as well. Some detectives manage to find owners for every penny… well, more like they make up names and line their own pockets.’
‘Do you think DCI Bradfield or DS Gibbs would do that?’ Jane asked, beginning to wonder if she’d been used because of her inexperience.
‘Shit, no way they’re dodgy. They might give a suspect who deserves it a slap now and again, but thieving or taking a bung ain’t their style.’
‘What’s a bung?’
‘Boy, you’ve a lot to learn yet. It’s taking money as a bribe. Once you’re in the pocket of the bad guys there’s no way out: they got you by the short and curlies for ever then. A smart detective won’t risk prison, or throw away his career and pension for scum like O’Duncie.’
As they went upstairs to the incident room Jane felt more at ease with the whole situation, though ashamed that she’d doubted Bradfield and Gibbs’s integrity. She hoped by meticulously checking through the money she’d find a connection to Julie Ann Collins and also that nothing dishonest had taken place, and she would therefore be able to help Bradfield and possibly get DS Gibbs reinstated.
Bradfield was waiting, eager to know how they were getting on, and see the list Jane had compiled so far. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble so said that it wasn’t in her drawer and A10 might have taken it, which he accepted. Kath explained that they’d had to wait for the property store to open and had just got the money out to check it. Bradfield told them to get another uniform PC to be present and use his office to count and check the serial numbers on the money.
A short while later Jane sat at Bradfield’s desk with Kath and the collator PC Donaldson, who was known for his honesty and integrity. He was more than happy to monitor, assist and double-check the counting. Kath and Donaldson laughed as Jane got out a pair of tweezers and explained she didn’t want to leave her own fingerprints on any of the money. Kath produced three pairs of Marigold gloves and slapping them down on the table said that if they handled the notes carefully then the gloves would be fine and speed the process up.
Jane removed the pile of twenties first and started to list the serial numbers one by one.
‘No wonder you were taking so long, darlin’. You don’t have to write down every single serial number of the twenties: the bank has listed what they gave Mr Collins, which were ones, fives and tens, so just count and bag the twenties for now, OK? I’ll start checking the fivers, you do the £1 notes and PC Donaldson can make a start on the tens. Let’s get this show on the effing road.’
John Bentley was still in a deep sleep and snoring when his mother peeked in before quietly closing his bedroom door. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea and could hear David in the bathroom – they’d had a recent invention called the ‘electric shower’ installed for him as he found it difficult to get in and out of the bath. He came into the kitchen in his dressing gown. His hair was wet and he looked exhausted.
‘You want a cup of tea, son?’
‘Ta. John still sleeping?’
‘Out for the count. I dunno what time you two got home, but it was already light. What you been doing?’
‘Oh, down the club, played a big game of billiards.’
‘What, all night?’
‘Yeah, it was a round robin.’
She poured a big mugful of tea and sugared it before sitting down opposite David.
‘Your dad’s about to be released.’
‘I know,’ he replied as he blew on his hot tea.
