Tennison (34 page)

Having grabbed herself a coffee she removed her coat, sat down at her desk and opened the drawer where she’d left her half-completed list. With mounting horror she realized it wasn’t there and she frantically searched through every drawer, tray and file in the office but could find no sign of it.

‘Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ she said to herself, panic-stricken. She took some deep breaths to calm herself. Perhaps the A10 officers had searched the office and taken her list for their investigation. Maybe they’d even seized the money as evidence.

Jane ran down the stairs to the property office, only to find it wasn’t open yet. Desperate to know if the money was still in the safe, so she could continue checking it, she went to ask the duty sergeant for his assistance in retrieving and booking it out from the store. To her dismay it was Sergeant Harris who was on a changeover to early shift after his day off. She found him in the cell area checking on the prisoners with a young PC who was handing O’Duncie his breakfast on a cardboard plate, along with a plastic knife and fork. Harris held out a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup.

O’Duncie saw her. ‘Your boss an’ his sidekick shouldn’t a messed with me. My solicitor’s gonna do ’em and get me outta here.’

Sergeant Harris deliberately dropped the tea. It hit the floor and splashed upwards. O’Duncie jumped up, dropping his breakfast of sausage, egg and fried bread. He started to shout abuse but Harris just slammed the cell door shut, pulled the metal wicket up and remarked that O’Duncie was a piece of shit.

Jane forced herself to be polite saying ‘Good morning’ and asking if, when he’d finished what he was doing, he’d be kind enough to open up the property store for her.

‘I heard A10 were crawling all over the station yesterday giving Bradfield and Gibbs a hard time, thanks to that piece of garbage in there.’

‘I don’t know anything about it,’ Jane replied rather unconvincingly as she always felt nervous in Harris’s presence.

‘Yeah right, well, I also heard they were looking for some paperwork of yours that seems to have mysteriously disappeared,’ he said, holding his hands up and making sarcastic inverted-comma signs.

Jane remembered the last entry she’d written was ‘Running total so far cash only £1,687’, which she’d timed and dated, and wondered if Harris had seen it himself. She couldn’t believe he’d be that spiteful, to stoop so low as to dispose of her paperwork just to get her in trouble, but the reality was she had no evidence as to who’d taken it.

‘Sarge, did you make out a property-store receipt for the money?’

‘Of course I did, I even counted it all for you, apart from the bag of coins, that is. There was nearly four grand, or was it nearer three, I can’t quite remember,’ he said with a cynical grin.

‘Where’s the receipt now?’ she asked, wondering if he might actually have used the opportunity to steal some of the money when he counted it.

‘I gave it to you, just before you went off duty. Don’t tell me you’ve lost that as well?’ he said in mock surprise.

Her anger rising, she stood her ground. ‘No you didn’t!’

He pointed to the three stripes on the side of his uniform jacket. ‘A mere probationer’s word against a supervising officer’s? Sounds to me like you really screwed up.’

Jane had had enough of his arrogant attitude. ‘Really, well, A10 are all over this because of you.’

He made out as if he was shaking. ‘Oh I’m really scared, Tennison. I did my job by the book, there’s nothing on me.’

‘You forgot to tell the night-shift sergeant O’Duncie was not allowed to make phone calls. He rang a crooked solicitor and started making outrageous allegations, none of which are true, but it’s got DCI Bradfield in trouble and Gibbs suspended so they are really furious. I’d say that’s two senior officers who are gunning for you. Who do you think they’ll believe about the missing paperwork and receipt, ME or you, Sergeant Harris?’

He glared at her and, lost for something to say, stormed off.

Jane was shaking with nerves but pleased that she’d finally stood her ground against Harris. Her good mood faded, though, when she realized she still didn’t know if the money was currently in the property safe. She went to the canteen and there were a few uniform constables and detectives having their breakfast. Seeing Kath carrying a tray to a table she went over and sat opposite her.

Kath looked round to make sure no one was listening. ‘Oh my God, Jane, it was all shit’s hit the fan here yesterday. O’Duncie made some serious allegations, don’t know exactly what about, but the rubber heelers were here nosing around asking questions. I heard poor Spence is suspended while they investigate the complaint.’

‘He is and I feel partly responsible.’

‘What’s going on, Jane?’

‘I’m in a bit of trouble. I didn’t complete the list of all the banknote serial numbers or check exactly how much money was there. I left it in my desk drawer and now it’s gone.’

‘What? You left the money in a drawer and now it’s been effing nicked!’ Kath exclaimed in a whispered voice.

‘No. Sergeant Harris put the money in the property-store safe. The list was in the drawer but . . .’ She hesitated.

‘Go on, but what?’

‘I’ve no proof, but I think Harris took the list and kept the property receipt to get me in trouble.’

‘God, that man’s a prick. Don’t get your knickers in a twist – just get the money out and I’ll help you to count and check it all again.’

‘I intended to but Harris won’t open the store for me and it’s closed at the moment,’ Jane said, adding that it was possible A10 had seized the money, but she wasn’t sure.

Kath ate fast, waving her fork around as she acknowledged a few officers. She told Jane that the large overweight PC in the corner having the ‘Full English’, with extra sausage, bacon and fried bread, was the property-store officer and he’d know if A10 had taken the money. If they hadn’t she’d see if she could persuade him to open up a bit early, but there was no point asking until he’d finished everything on his plate.

Jane contemplated telling Kath about Bradfield coming to her home, but thought it best not to as she’d probably ask a load of questions or think there was some sort of conspiracy going on.

Kath scraped her plate clean and wiped her toast around it.

‘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.

‘I wish I could say I’m lookin’ forward to it, son, but I’m not, what with John moving in and no sign of ’im leaving. I’ll be worn out washing and cooking for all three of you.’

David slurped his tea, put two more sugars in and then sat stirring the mug.

‘I need to get some groceries in,’ Renee said.

David nodded and opened a packet of digestive biscuits.

‘Price of bread has gone up, eleven pence a loaf. I was thinking I might make a big pot of stew, would you like that for your tea?’

‘Yeah, sounds good. Do it for dinner, though.’

‘I was thinking of having it ready for your tea at five. It needs a good few hours simmering so the meat will be tender.’

‘Then put it on earlier – a late dinner will do.’

‘I can do that . . . Are you out again this evening?’

‘I’m meeting up with some friends to watch the latest “Carry On” film so I’ll be out late.’

‘Two nights out on the trot? John going with you, is he?’

‘What’s with all the questions, Ma? Just leave it out, will ya.’

She took a biscuit and nibbled at it.

‘I see he’s got a big van all done up.’

‘What?’

‘With painting-and-decorating signs on it. I saw you both in it last night when you left. I was going over to see poor Nancy Phillips, you know, the lady whose grandson got found dead. I thought she might like to go to bingo but she didn’t, been very poorly and the police won’t release his body for a funeral yet.’

‘Listen, John told you to keep your head down and not go out mixing with those gossips. You got to do what he tells you, Ma, or he’ll get real angry.’

‘Have I? Well, this is my flat and I like my bingo nights. I’m sick and tired of being cooped up and don’t you think I’m stupid – I know when something is up, just like I do with your dad cos I been married to him so long.’

‘John’s just looking out for you.’

‘Bollocks to that – he’s never done nothing for me in years. He should get back with his wife, I mean God knows what she’s up to whilst he’s living here. Is he still paying the rent at his place?’

‘I dunno, I’m gonna go back to bed for a kip.’

She leaned over and gripped his arm.

‘He’s not got you involved in something, has he? Don’t you treat me like I got no eyes or ears, you both been skulking round for weeks, and if he’s up to something you don’t let him drag you into it.’

‘He’s just drummin’ up work, Ma. He’s openin’ a new decorating company. He’s good with his hands.’

‘Like his dad was, but not for decorating. When did John ever lift so much as a brush? This whole flat needs a lick of paint; he should be gettin’ it freshened up for when your dad gets out, you know how particular he is. Look at the washer and drier John got me – I was quite happy goin’ to the launderette. I even got a fridge freezer and nothin’ in it cos John says he don’t want me shoppin’ for ’im.’

‘I go shoppin’ with you, you know that.’