Returning to Rigg Approach, Jane’s feet were so sore from waitressing that she trudged up the stairs using the safety pole to pull herself forward.
‘Christ, you look knackered,’ Cam said as soon as he saw her.
‘I’ll tell you what, it’s a lot easier pounding the beat than being a waitress.’
She took off her shoes, sat down and started to massage her feet.
‘How’d it go at the cafe?’
‘Not much to tell, really.’
‘I spoke to that PC at Wood Green this morning about Asil Osman. He made some enquiries and phoned back earlier. Asil wasn’t part of Osman’s gang, and helped the CID to locate his brother after he assaulted his wife. I won’t bore you with all the details, but the fruit export company he owns appears legit. Here’s the company name and address, and the PC’s details if you want to speak to him about it.’
He handed her a bit of paper with the details.
Jane was surprised.
‘So, his money isn’t hooky?’
‘He’s opened a distribution warehouse over here and from the enquiries I’ve made with Customs and Excise it doesn’t appear he’s importing drugs.’
‘Is Murphy in?’
Cam nodded, and she went straight to his office.
‘Lost your shoes?’ Murphy asked.
‘Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me.’
‘Be my guest. What happened at the cafe?’
‘I didn’t hear what the Ripleys were talking about, though we did have some casual conversation while I was serving them. George is the more dominant, likes the sound of his own voice and thinks he’s funny. Truth is he’s an ignorant pig of a man with no manners, but Tommy seemed OK.’
‘When he’s not robbing banks with a sawn-off in his hand,’ Murphy reminded her.
‘Point taken.’
‘Did Rachel Wilson turn up?’
‘Yes.’ She handed him the note. ‘She slipped me this.’
He read it and handed it back.
‘Doesn’t tell us much . . . Banks are closed on a Saturday, so “sorting out the driver” probably refers to one of the bridal cars. The other bit about putting the frighteners on a woman is the sort of thing they do, but it could be anyone.’
She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘You don’t think it’s Fiona Simpson?’
‘Jesus Christ, you’ve really got a bee in your bonnet about her—’
‘Lawrence found some shoe prints on the toilet seat, which suggests someone might have been hiding in the toilets waiting for her to close the pub. I’ve got a gut feeling that it might have been one of our suspects.’
‘I’ve spoken to Lawrence and I agree with you.’
‘You do?’ she asked, surprised.
‘I’ve informed the divisional DI who’s investigating her death that as soon as we’ve completed our operation, he is free to interview the Ripleys and the other suspects about Simpson’s death.’
‘Why can’t we, if we arrest them?’
‘Because we deal with robberies,’ he said firmly, indicating the matter was closed.
Cam knocked on the door and popped his head in.
‘The surveillance team are wondering if you want to put anyone on Graham Smith and Carl when they leave work.’
‘Tail them and find out where they live. If they can find an OP or use an OBO van on Smith then watch him until he beds down, but don’t worry about Carl. We haven’t got enough officers for a static observation on him.’
‘OK, Guv.’ Cam left.
‘Carl is George Ripley’s stepson and Tina is his daughter,’ Jane said. ‘He speaks to Carl like he’s a piece of dirt and treats him like an errand boy.’
‘Well, your errand boy went to a builder’s merchant’s earlier and bought some boiler suits. You know, the kind of thing a robber likes to wear.’
‘I was serving them when George Ripley gave Carl some money and said to get some “stuff for Smudge”.’
‘Well, he obviously knew what he meant when George said “stuff”.’
‘I’m not so sure. George gave him a piece of paper with what to buy written on it.’
‘The fact is he bought four, and somehow I doubt they were all for Graham Smith. Anything else of value?’
‘The wedding reception is being held at Farthings in a marquee.’
He gave her a quizzical look. ‘How’d you find that out?’
‘Carl invited me to the wedding and—’
‘Jesus Christ, I hope you said no,’ he snapped.
‘I was caught in an awkward situation. George Ripley had been ribbing him about not having anyone to take to the wedding and Carl asked me out of the blue. It was a bit odd, but I saw it as an opportunity to gather more information about the Ripleys. There’s no OP at the church or overlooking the grounds of the house, so I thought I could blend in at the wedding and take photographs of the guests with a pocket camera.’
‘Well, you bloody well thought wrong. I’m not risking you giving the game away and screwing this operation up in a honey trap! The answer is no and that’s final.’
‘Do you still want me to work in the cafe?’
She already suspected what his answer would be.
‘No, I want you in the office where you can’t screw things up. Tell Cam you’re replacing him and he can drive Kingston and the Colonel, then book off duty and go home.’
‘I need to write up my report.’
‘Do it tomorrow. Now get out of my sight before I really lose my temper.’
Jane bit back an angry retort and walked out of Murphy’s office, silently fuming. She picked up her jacket and shoes, then slung her bag over her shoulder.
‘Murphy said you’re back driving the car and I’m in here, as from tomorrow morning.’
‘Why, what you do?’ Cam asked.
‘My fucking job!’
She stormed out of the office.
*
Jane’s anger hadn’t abated by the time she got home. In fact, if anything she was even more furious. She went straight to the fridge and poured herself a glass of wine. She took a large mouthful, then banged the glass down on the kitchen counter and went to her bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and looked through her dresses, then took one out and held it up against her body as she looked in the mirror.
‘Fine, I won’t go to the bloody wedding. But nobody said anything about going out for a drink, did they?’
She turned one way and then the other.
‘Nope, too dowdy.’ She threw the dress on the bed and grabbed another one. ‘Too short.’ She threw it on the bed, said, ‘Out of fashion’ with the next, until finally, after taking out six dresses, she decided on the one to wear.
*
George Ripley closed up GR Motors at 6 p.m. and drove home. His daughter Tina had not been seen at work by Teflon, who’d been keeping observation on the garage. However, the CROPS officer in the field had seen Maureen Ripley and a young woman, who was assumed to be Tina, leaving and then returning to Farthings in a green Range Rover. Murphy guessed that Tina had the week off work before her wedding and was shopping with her mother. Graham Smith was tailed to a three-bedroom semi in Enfield. The CO11 officers following him remarked that he drove his Capri ‘like a madman’ but knew how to handle the car. Carl was followed to a one-bedroom flat in Stoke Newington. And a subsequent check in the electoral register revealed his surname was Winter and he had no criminal record. Murphy stood the firearms officers down at 5 p.m. as the banks were all closed. Tommy Ripley left the snooker hall at 6 p.m. with Maria Fernandez and returned home to his flat in Chingford, while Aidan O’Reilly remained at the snooker club, which closed at 10 p.m. on weekdays.
‘Can you fucking believe it? Going to the wedding with Carl Winter? Either she’s mad or she thinks I am.’
Murphy slugged down a mouthful of whisky and offered the bottle to Kingston. Kingston filled his glass.
‘She’s got plenty of spunk, that’s for sure.’
‘It’s not funny, Stewart. I’ll admit she’s better than I ever imagined she’d be and as tenacious as hell, but she acts on impulse without thinking about the consequences.’
‘Tell me about it . . . But letting her go to the wedding might not actually be a bad idea.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Murphy scowled.
‘Yours, of course, Guv. But don’t go cutting off your nose to spite your face. Pulling her out of the cafe is going to look suspicious if the Ripleys turn up again and find she’s not there.’
Murphy had to admit he was right.
‘For fuck’s sake, get Cam to ring her and tell her to get her pinny out again.’
*
Jane decided on a pastel and floral midi-dress, which had a pleated skirt and loosely nipped-in waist. She chose a chunky brown belt to go with it, and a blue jacket as there was a slight nip in the air. She knew if she’d managed to tell Murphy about the drink with Carl he’d have said no to that too, but Murphy hadn’t given her the chance. She was on thin ice, but her anger had made her reckless.
*
Leicester Square was busy, with a crowd of people outside the Empire Ballroom watching some street entertainers doing a juggling act. She looked at her watch: it was nearly 7.45 p.m. and she wondered if Carl wasn’t going to show up, then about fifty metres away she saw him jogging towards her. He was smartly dressed in a blue blazer, white open-neck shirt, black trousers and black ankle boots.
‘I’m really sorry, I had to get a bus, and then it got stuck in traffic.’
He was out of breath and Jane could see a few drops of perspiration on his forehead.
‘It’s all right, I’ve only just got here myself.’
‘You look lovely,’ he said with a nervous smile.
‘Thank you, and you look very smart too.’
‘Would you like to go for a drink or something to eat?’
‘I’m quite hungry as it happens.’
‘Anything you especially like?’
‘I love Chinese.’
‘Well, we’re spoilt for choice with Chinatown around the corner.’
‘Let’s go then,’ she said, slipping her arm into his.
‘Did you have a busy day at work?’ she asked as they walked up Wardour Street.
‘Same as usual, really: running errands for my stepfather George, picking up car parts and working in the garage.’
‘Are you a mechanic, then?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How long have you been doing that?’
‘Since I left school at sixteen. George owns a car sales showroom and his mate Smudge runs the repairs, servicing and MOT side of it. If you’ve got a problem with your car, whatever it is, I can fix it for you.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘Shall we try this one?’
He pointed to the Lotus Garden.
Inside, the waitress led them to a table for two and Carl pulled out a chair for Jane to sit on before gently easing it forward. Carl ordered a pint of lager and Jane said she’d have a half. They looked through the menu in silence as the waitress served their drinks.
‘Cheers,’ he said, raising his glass.
‘Cheers.’ She clinked her glass against his.
‘Do you want to choose your own or have a set meal for two?’
‘Meal B looks good to me.’
‘Some crispy duck pancakes to start?’
‘My favourite!’
He called over the waitress and she took the order.
‘So, you’ve just started at Nick’s cafe?’
‘I’m only there for a week or so, just helping out until he gets a new waitress.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. What do you do otherwise?’
‘I work for my father as his secretary. He’s an accountant, but I used to do waitressing during my school holidays.’
Carl made a sour face. ‘I hope he’s nicer than my stepfather.’
‘I have to say, I didn’t like him. He was really rude, and I thought the way he spoke to you in front of me was appalling.’
‘He does it all the time; he’s an ignorant bully.’
‘Why don’t you work somewhere else?’
‘I can’t afford to just now. He bought a shitty one-bedroom flat to get me out of the house and charges me a nominal rent to live there. I’ve been saving every penny I can as I’d like to start a garage of my own, or maybe buy a van and do mobile servicing and repairs.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea.’
The waitress served the crispy duck.
‘Tuck in.’
He offered Jane a pancake.
The food was delicious, and Carl behaved like a perfect gentleman. There was a part of her that felt bad about what she was doing, but it was her job. Now Jane knew Carl disliked George, she wondered if he would say more that might be useful.
‘Your uncle Tommy seemed a bit nicer.’
‘He’s OK, but him and George are as thick as thieves, like my father and Smudge, which is another reason I want to get away from the garage.’
‘You make it sound like they’re up to no good.’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘George and Smudge were in prison together.’
‘What for?’ she asked, feigning surprise.
‘I didn’t know at the time, but I later found out it was for robbing a jeweller’s. I was seven when George went in and fourteen when he got out. Prison changed him. He was a bitter man and I was on the wrong end of his anger on a regular basis.’
‘He beat you up?’ Jane asked, genuinely shocked.
He nodded, clearly disturbed by the memory. ‘Usually with a leather belt and sometimes his hands . . . It stopped when I was about eighteen, but the verbal abuse didn’t.’
‘Did your mother know what he was doing to you?’
‘Yes, but he also knocked her about, just not as often. She told him to stop or she would leave – but in the end she likes the good life too much: nice car, big house and plenty of money.’
‘Does he hit your sister?’
‘God, no, he treats her like a princess. What Tina wants, Tina gets.’
‘If he was in prison how did he end up doing so well for himself?’
‘I don’t know, and I definitely don’t ask. George likes to make out he’s the bad boy done good, but once a criminal, always a criminal, I reckon. He sells high-end second-hand cars like Jags, Mercs and BMWs. I’m pretty sure Smudge clocks the mileage. I’ve seen people hand over cash when they buy them.’
Jane wondered if other criminals were laundering the proceeds of their crimes by paying cash for George’s cars.
The waitress served them their set meal of chilli beef, chicken with cashew nuts, stir-fried vegetables and egg fried rice. The food was so good they didn’t talk much as they ate. Jane was already convinced that Carl was nothing to do with the robbery or part of the ‘gang’. He clearly suspected the Ripley brothers and Smudge were still committing crime, but for his own self-preservation turned a blind eye to it and didn’t ask questions. She wanted to probe Carl more and ask about Tommy’s snooker hall to see if he knew anything about Aidan O’Reilly, but worried she might be pushing her luck and making him suspicious.
Jane changed the subject to daily life, and as they spoke about films and sports they liked she realised they had a lot in common. They had another drink and spent nearly two hours in the restaurant. He seemed much more relaxed when he wasn’t speaking about his family, and had a sharp sense of humour. When the waitress gave Carl the bill, he insisted on paying and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
‘Would you like to go for a drink somewhere?’
‘I’d love to, but I’ve got to be up early and be at the cafe by seven.’
‘How are you getting home?’
‘On the Tube from Charing Cross.’
‘I’ll walk you to the station.’
He got up and removed her jacket from the back of her seat and helped her put it on.
As they cut through Leicester Square a busker playing a guitar was singing ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by the Eagles. Carl took some change out of his pocket and dropped it in the busker’s guitar case.
‘That song reminds me of my last girlfriend.’
The song, about a woman who cheats on her husband, also hit a nerve with Jane. She wasn’t cheating on Carl, but she was certainly lying, and her smile was a thin disguise to get information out of him. As they walked to the station, Jane wondered if she should make an excuse and tell him she couldn’t go to the wedding. Standing him up on the day would be really hurtful. She had to remind herself that, nice bloke though he seemed to be, she was doing this to help catch the robbers.
‘Would you like to go out again before the wedding?’ he asked.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to do some typing and filing for my dad in the evenings. He was a bit miffed that I went out tonight, actually.’
‘Sure, I understand.’ He took a bit of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Jane. ‘I did a little map of where the wedding and George’s house are. The service starts at three. I could come over and pick you up—’
‘It’s fine, I’ll make my own way to the church and meet you there,’ she said, forcing a smile.
He leant forward, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and nervously stepped back.
‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Jane.’
He turned around and walked away.
Jane put her hand on her cheek where he’d kissed her. She didn’t feel offended; it was a nice gesture. Part of her wanted to call out to him to stop, so she could tell him the truth, but she knew it was too late for that.
Sitting on the Tube to Baker Street, Jane felt miserable. What she’d thought would be nothing more than a fact-finding evening had turned into something she’d never expected. Once she’d stopped trying to get information out of him and relaxed, she’d found herself genuinely enjoying Carl’s company.
You really know how to mess things up when it comes to men, don’t you? she thought to herself wryly.