Jane helped Dabs hold the garage door while PC Turner removed the rivets from the front of the lock.
‘You should button up your coat. Your clothes are getting soot on them from the garage door,’ Dabs told her.
She looked down and saw black streaks on her white blouse, blue jacket and skirt. She knew there was no point in trying to brush them off as it would only make the marks worse. She’d have to wait until she got back to the station to try and clean them off.
‘It’s about time the job issued some sort of protective clothing for this type of work,’ she remarked.
‘As Scene of Crime Officers, we’re issued with waterproof leggings and a coat, but they make you sweat so much it’s not worth the bother of wearing them. I always keep a change of clothes at work in case I get dirty at a crime scene.’
‘As this is my first day on the squad I didn’t think to bring in any casual clothes.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Apart from the governors, no one dresses smart on the squad – it’s not the type of work where you want to stand out as a detective.’
‘Do they have a woman’s locker room at Rigg?’
Dabs laughed. ‘There’s a locker room, men’s toilets and a shower in the basement, as well as a small gym area with some weights, a punchbag and boxing gloves. Some of the lads like to keep fit with an early morning workout, especially the Colonel, as you probably noticed from his physique. Personally, I’m not into all that keep fit stuff. Snooker’s my sport and I play for the Met team.’
‘No ladies’ toilets then?’ she asked, not relishing the thought of sharing with the men.
‘There’s a loo on the top floor that KP has labelled “ladies only”.’
‘Who’s KP?’
‘Katie Powell, the office clerk, also known as “Nuts”. She thinks it’s because her initials are the same as the peanut brand, but some of the lads think she is nuts.’
‘Why’s that?’ she asked, deducing KP was the woman she’d spoken to over the intercom when she first arrived at the squad office that morning.
‘KP’s pedantic about the office being neat and tidy, she checks every bit of paperwork to make sure it’s written up, filed and labelled correctly. If you’re one penny out on your weekly expenses claim, she’ll make you type the whole form out again instead of just using Tipp-Ex to correct the error. You’d think the money was coming out of her own bank account, not the Commissioner’s.’
‘A good filing system isn’t a bad thing if you’ve got a big investigation running; it makes the paperwork easier to find.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, she’s good at her job but likes to think she knows best all the time – and she’s a bit of an arse-licker around the governors.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir – especially with Kingston, who she worked for as the CID clerk when he was at Tottenham nick.’
‘How long’s Kingston been on the squad?’
‘Since he was promoted to DI, which was just over a year ago, but he was also a DC and DS on the squad before that. He’s as hard as nails, knows his stuff and is well respected. He was a good boxer in his day and won the Met’s Lafone Cup.’
‘To be honest, I’m not into boxing. I don’t see the point in two men trying to knock each other out.’
‘Are you the first woman to be attached to the Flying Squad?’ PC Turner interjected.
‘Yes, and no doubt you are amazed as everyone else seems to be – but please, I’m not in the mood for any more wisecracks about it.’
‘Actually, I was going to say you’ve done well for yourself.’
Jane was surprised. ‘Oh, thank you . . .’
‘My wife’s a WPC in the job at Plaistow on K division. She was in the Women’s Police before it became integrated with the men in 1973, so I know first-hand how hard it is for women to get on in the police force. She’s applied three times for the Advanced Driver Course and been turned down. I’m an advanced driver myself and given her lessons, so I know for a fact she’s up to it, and as capable as any male drivers – it’s just prejudice because she’s a woman.’
Jane smiled. ‘I’ve no doubt you’re right, PC Turner.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I say give as good as you get. My wife does – even at home!’ He laughed as he prised the garage door lock off and handed it to Jane. ‘Good luck with your investigation and I’ll ring your office in the morning with the result of my examination on the Cortina’s ignition barrel.’
She and Dabs thanked PC Turner for his help. As he left, the low-loader turned up to take the burnt-out Cortina to the car pound. While Dabs spoke to the truck driver, Jane decided to have a look in Selsdon and Felstead Road, to see if there were any parking restrictions and if the robbers could have parked a changeover car there.
As she walked off the estate into Blake Hall Road she noticed a block of four-storey flats opposite, called the Mallards, of which at least forty overlooked the entrance to Edgar House. Similarly, there was also Harley Court, next to the Mallards, which was a three-storey block of about forty flats on the corner of Blake Hall Road and Selsdon Road. She could see that some of the flats also overlooked part of Felstead Road and realised that the house-to-house enquiries would have to be widened, in case anyone in the other flats had seen the two men with a holdall or anything suspicious that might help the investigation. She made some notes in her pocket notebook to give PC Murray, beginning to wonder why he had been told by Kingston to organise the house-to-house enquiries.
Jane crossed over into Selsdon Road and saw there were fourteen garages at the rear of Harley Court, and none of them were numbered. She spoke to a middle-aged male resident she saw coming out of the rear of the flats, who said the council owned the garages and rented them out, some to people who didn’t even live in Harley Court. Jane made another note in her pocket notebook that this would also need to be followed up with the council, as any changeover car could have been left in one of these garages.
As Jane crossed Blake Hall Road towards Felstead Road she noticed the position of the bus stop, and an island in the middle of the road. She thought to herself that if the two men had parked a changeover car at the rear of Harley Court, they would have crossed the road before passing the bus stop and not been in the position they were when the elderly lady saw them. The first five metres on either side of Felstead Road had double yellow lines and then the parking was unrestricted. The sides and back garden fences of numbers 21 and 23 Blake Hall Road ran along Felstead Road for about thirty metres on either side, which meant that stretch of the road was not really overlooked, other than through a couple of side windows at 21 and 23 Blake Hall Road. Jane thought it seemed a likely place to leave a changeover car inconspicuously parked, as a short distance up the road there were rows of large semi-detached Edwardian style houses with driveways and street parking that was overlooked by the residents.
She remembered the sergeant mentioning the witness thought one of the men was smoking a cigar, and looked around for any recently discarded cigar and cigarette butts. There was no sign of any cigars, only a few butts from different cigarette brands that looked quite old.
‘I thought you wanted me and my officers to do the house-to-house in Felstead Road.’
Jane looked up and saw the sullen-faced uniformed sergeant and three of his officers standing behind him.
‘I do – I was just checking out the street to see what it was like for parking access as it’s possible the robbers had a changeover car.’
‘Some of my lads needed to get off home, so there are just the four of us left to do the house-to-house until the late turn lads show up. It might take a bit longer than three hours’ overtime . . .’
She knew what he was after.
‘All right, make it four hours, but just do as much as you can at Edgar House and the houses on this side of Blake Hall Road for now. I’ll need to speak to DI Kingston about extending the house-to-house to cover the flats at the Mallards and Harley Court. I take it you’ve finished at Edgar?’
‘Not yet, and there has been no reply at quite a few flats.’
‘Did anyone say anything of interest or that’s worth following up?’ she asked, wondering if the sergeant was being intentionally difficult.
‘Nope – except for an old woman who saw the two men in Blake Hall Road . . .’
‘I know, you already told me about her. Did no one you spoke to know who owned garage twenty-nine?’
‘Yeah, a lady one of the lads spoke to said she thought the man at number forty owned it, but she hadn’t seen him about for a while.’
‘Did anyone knock on his door?’
‘I don’t know—’
Jane was amazed at the sergeant’s incompetence.
‘You don’t know? Did you even bother to get a description of the man at number forty?’
‘If you’d let me finish, I was going to say I told ADC Murray about him—’
‘It’s PC Murray. Where is he now?’
He held up a blue folder. ‘I don’t know. If I did I’d have given him these completed house-to-house forms.’ He handed Jane the folder. ‘I’m not responsible for Murray. He’s on your squad – so you are . . . Unless there’s anything else I can help you with, I’ve work to do.’
Jane was getting frustrated by his nonchalant attitude. She looked at her watch and saw it was nearly two o’clock.
‘Seeing as the late shift officers should be here soon, we’ll make that two hours’ overtime, Sergeant. Just do the houses in Blake Hall Road – late shift can do Felstead and Selsdon.’
As she walked off towards Edgar House, a disgruntled PC shook his head.
‘Well done, Sarge. A poxy two hours’ overtime is hardly worth the effort.’
*
Approaching Edgar House, Jane could see Murray sitting in the squad car. She tapped on the window, but he wafted the radio mike in his hand at her to indicate he was talking to someone. She went around to the passenger side, and as she got in the car she recognised DI Kingston’s voice over the radio.
‘Well done, Cam – the lads have finished taking the statements from the Securicor crew, so we’ll head back to Rigg. Tell Tennison to get the uniform lads to continue with the house-to-house for now and I’ll decide what more needs to be done down there after the office meeting.’
‘Will do, Guv . . . out.’
‘What was that about?’ she asked, wondering why Kingston said she was to speak to the uniformed officers.
‘The woodentop sergeant was getting a bit stroppy with me giving him orders, so the Guv thought it’d be better if you spoke to him.’
‘I just did that, and he said he hasn’t seen you since you went into one of the ground floor flats.’
Cam looked flustered. ‘I spoke to him before that . . . Anyway, I’ve updated the Guv about the owner of garage twenty-nine—’
‘Who said . . . ?’ She was eager to hear what Cam had found out.
‘He was pleased I’d traced the owner and wants us to return to Rigg for an office meeting,’ he said with a smug grin.
‘I meant what did the owner of the garage say.’
‘He wasn’t there – he’s in hospital recovering from a cataract operation. I spoke to his wife, Mrs Helen Clarke, who’s in her late sixties. She said they’ve lived at the flats for six months, but since his eyesight problems Mr Clarke couldn’t drive and she hasn’t got a licence. They stopped using the garage just after they moved in.’
‘Are they renting it out?’
‘No, they’ve given the car to the daughter and son-in-law to use for now. His wife said if the cataract operation is successful he hopes to start driving again and then they’ll carry on using the garage.’
‘Did they keep it locked when they weren’t using it?’
‘I don’t know – I didn’t ask.’
‘Did you ask who owned it before them?’
‘No – I was told to find out who owned garage twenty-nine and that’s what I did.’
‘Sometimes you have to look beyond the end of your nose, Cam. I’ll speak to the wife myself.’
She opened the passenger door to get out.
‘She’s gone to the hospital to see her husband.’
‘Did she say when she’d be back?’
‘No. I’ve got their details recorded on a house-to-house form – there’s a phone number as well.’
‘Put it in here with the others you’ve done,’ she said, opening the folder the uniformed sergeant had given her.
Cam handed her four completed forms.
‘Is that it? You’ve only visited four flats since we’ve been here?’
‘A couple of them were elderly residents who needed reassuring that everything was fine, so I had a cup of tea and a chat with them.’
She couldn’t help noticing the crumbs around his mouth.
‘And a few chocolate digestives by the looks of it. I’ll go and get Dabs – then I’d like to go back via Barclays Bank in the High Road.’
‘Why? The team and scene of crime are all finished there and gone back to Rigg, so there’s nothing to do—’
‘Well, there’s something I want to check out – so just do as I ask, please, and don’t question my decisions.’
Cam gave a grunt of disapproval, making it clear he didn’t think she’d last long on the squad if she started throwing her weight about like that.
*
He pulled up outside the Crown public house, where Jane got out of the car and crossed over the road to the bank. The Securicor van had returned to its depot and life had returned to normal in the street, with several people out shopping. Jane stood on the steps and looked around, surveying the scene of the robbery and the short distance to Aylmer Road, where the four robbers in the Cortina had parked.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ a well-spoken male voice asked.
She got out her warrant card as she turned around and saw a man in his forties, smartly dressed in a three-piece grey pinstripe suit, white shirt and tie. She suspected he was something to do with the bank and introduced herself as WDS Tennison from the Flying Squad.
‘Ah, I’m the manager of this branch. Is there something I can help you with? I’ve already been interviewed by a DI Kingston and I also made a statement to a DC, whose name I can’t remember, but everyone else referred to him as the Colonel.’
‘That’ll be DC Gorman,’ Jane told him.
‘Would you like to come in and have a coffee or tea?’ he asked with a polite smile.
‘Thank you, but I’m a bit pressed for time as I have to get back to the office for a meeting.’
‘It was a relief to hear that the officers in the police car and the off-duty one who got shot here are all all right. The men who did this are the dregs of the earth. I suspect if they knew it was an off-duty officer who tried to stop them they would have shot him with a real bullet as well.’
‘You’re probably right, sir, but thankfully they didn’t and he’s alive . . .’
‘If somewhat shaken, no doubt. You can still see the rice that was in the shotgun cartridges on the pavement.’
Jane asked the bank manager if he knew exactly where the men had parked up in the Cortina before the robbery. He pointed across the road.
‘I believe it was on the left side of Aylmer Road as we look at it – about where that white builder’s van is now parked. I didn’t see the car, other than from behind when they made their getaway. I was in the bank during the robbery and set the alarm off when I heard the sound of a shotgun.’
‘Do you know if the area where the Cortina was parked was searched by the scene-of-crime officers?’
‘I would have thought so. I know they fingerprinted the Securicor van, even though the robbers wore gloves, as there was loads of fingerprint dust over the front and back of it.’
Jane knew the initial 999 call, about the suspects in a Cortina, had been made by the landlady of the Crown, but she couldn’t remember her name. The bank manager told her it was Fiona Simpson, and he thought DI Kingston had spoken to her as he saw him going in the pub just after he arrived at the scene.
Jane nodded. ‘Thanks for your help.’
She carefully scanned the street as she crossed slowly over to Aylmer Road where the white van was parked. She checked the pavement and road beside the van but didn’t see anything that caught her eye. She went into the pub; the premises had a large horseshoe bar, wooden floor and a snug area around the other side. Although the decor looked faded the premises had a clean, well-run look about it and an old but pristine Wurlitzer jukebox stood out in the corner of the bar. There were also several framed posters and pictures from Alfred Hitchcock films hanging on the walls, prompting Jane to recall reading somewhere that Hitchcock had been born in Leytonstone High Road, above his father’s grocery shop.
‘What can I get you, luv?’ the woman behind the bar asked as Jane approached.
‘I was looking for Fiona, the landlady.’
She frowned. ‘Are you from the press? Because if you are I can’t help you about the robbery.’
‘No, I’m WDS Tennison,’ Jane replied, showing her warrant card.
Fiona sighed. ‘DI Kingston said he’d ring me first, and I did tell him I wasn’t available until after three. You’ll have to wait until I close the pub to do the artist’s impression.’
‘I’m not a police artist, I’m one of the Flying Squad officers investigating the robbery.’
‘What? You’re Flying Squad? Do me a favour! I’ve met a few in my time and none of them look like you, darling. You’re a reporter and that’s a fake police card you just showed me, ain’t it?’
‘Two of my colleagues are parked up outside your pub in an unmarked BMW – you can ask them if you don’t believe me.’
‘I will.’
Fiona lifted the bar counter flap and exited the pub into the High Road. It wasn’t long before she returned and spoke to Jane.
‘The Cortina was parked up opposite the Aylmer Road entrance to the pub, on the far side of the road – just about where Pete the plumber’s white van is now.’
‘Do you know where I can find Pete? I need him to move his van so I can look under it.’
‘Yeah, he’s in the snug bar playing pool with his apprentice. Look, I’m sorry if I doubted you. I just needed to be sure about who you were, especially as you didn’t look like a detective with black marks all over your coat.’
‘It’s soot from a burnt-out car, and you’re not the first to doubt who I am today. I’m beginning to wonder if I should have come to work in jeans and a T-shirt with a false moustache and a deep voice.’
‘Slip your coat and jacket off and I’ll give them a quick dab down with a sponge and water.’
‘Thanks, but I’m pressed for time, so I’ll do it when I get back to the station. Would you mind asking Pete to move his van for me?’
Jane noticed a sullen-looking Cam entering through the High Road entrance of the pub.
‘The DI’s been on the radio again wanting to know where we are.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That you were in the Crown talking to the landlady and I didn’t have a clue what it was about.’
‘And what was his reply?’
‘That he’d already spoken to her and to get our arses back to Rigg right away – and that’s putting it politely.’
‘I’ll be a minute or two yet—’
‘What exactly are you doing?’
‘Looking for something.’
‘Looking for what?’
‘I’ll know if I find it.’
She walked off, leaving Cam shaking his head in frustration.
As Jane waited in Aylmer Road, Fiona came out of the pub.
‘Pete’s just finishing his game of pool and said he’ll be two minutes . . . Hello, Betty, you all right?’
Jane turned to see who Fiona was speaking to and saw a frail elderly woman with a hunched back walking slowly and pulling a canvas shopping trolley.
‘No, I bloody ain’t, Fi,’ Betty replied in a strong cockney accent. ‘I couldn’t get me shoppin’ done what with all that ’oo-’a goin’ on outside the bank this mornin’. If I was forty years younger, I’d ’ave ’ad a go at them bleedin’ robbers.’
‘It was terrible, Betty, but thankfully no one got badly hurt—’
‘Oh, I’m glad to ’ear that. The sound of that gun goin’ off was deafenin’, and I honestly thought the young man who was lyin’ on the pavement screamin’ was a goner.’
Jane turned to Fiona. ‘It sounds like she witnessed the robbery – I’d better have a word with her.’
‘It’s OK, your DI Kingston’s dealing with her. Do you fancy a bottle of stout on the house, Betty?’
‘I gotta get this shoppin’ in the fridge, but I’ll ’ave it when I come in later.’
She shuffled off.
As Fiona returned to the pub, a man dressed in blue overalls came out and held out a set of car keys to Jane.
‘I’d better not drive the van as I’ve had three pints, officer. I was going to leave it here and pick it up in the morning.’
‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’ She smiled.
As Pete got in his van, Jane asked him to reverse back about ten feet as the area behind him was clear. He started the engine, disengaged the handbrake and moved slowly backwards. As Jane watched the front nearside wheel rotating, she saw a squashed two-inch-long soggy-looking brown object stuck to the wheel.
‘Stop!’ she shouted, banging her fist on the side of the van.
Pete hit the brake pedal.
‘Christ, have I run over another cat? That’ll be the second one this week!’ he said, ashen-faced.
‘No, there’s something stuck to the front wheel that I need to remove and have a closer look at. Stay where you are, it’ll only take me a second to get it off.’
Jane removed a small exhibits bag from her coat pocket and, using her pen, slowly prised the brown object from the wheel and it dropped into the bag. Looking closely at it, she was reasonably sure it was what she’d hoped to find. To be certain she opened the bag and took a deep sniff. Not only did the object look like a squashed cigar butt – it also smelt like one.