LITMIR.BIZ

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you OK?’ Jane asked.

      ‘Honestly, it’s like working with a bunch of school kids! I mean what childish idiot thinks it’s funny to do that?’ Sally said, exasperated.

      Jane was confused. ‘Do what?’

      ‘Somebody’s put cling film under the toilet seat. I sat down to pee and the next thing I know it’s bouncing back at me and soaking my knickers and skirt. It’s so stupid! I just thank God I wasn’t throwing up.’

      Jane and the other women officers, alongside the female clerical staff at the station, were sick to death of the male officers’ childish behaviour. It was only because they couldn’t be bothered to walk down to the basement where the men’s toilets were situated. Kath had complained on more than one occasion to Sergeant Harris, not only about the fact that the seats were constantly being left up, but also about the fact that there was always urine all over the floor because of the male officers’ inability to aim properly. In retaliation, there had been another ‘prank’ incident where the black-plastic toilet seat had been smeared with fingerprint ink and it had taken days to wear off the backside of the poor WPC who had sat on it.

      Jane calmed Sally down and the indexer looked relieved when told that DCI Bradfield wanted Jane to be a temporary stand-in for her.

      ‘Thank God, because I have a mountain of stuff I should have got done but it’s been so difficult – I just feel sick all the time. They should have got someone to help me out weeks ago. I warned Bradfield, and he’s the worst of the bunch when it comes to indexing as he stuffs everything into a file, and it’s all jumbled up and in no kind of order.’

      Sally began explaining the indexing system and gave Jane a crash course on what to do.

      ‘The first forty-eight hours of a murder inquiry are always the most hectic, but after a few days if they haven’t charged anyone it slows down and you get a chance to catch up.’

      ‘It’s very quiet in here – are all the detectives out on enquiries?’ Jane said, looking around.

      ‘Mostly yes, but the local ones tend to use their own desks in the main CID office to write their reports. They only come in here to hand them in, or if they want you to do something for them. The briefings and meetings are all held in here, though.’

      Sally went on to explain that if DCI Bradfield or DS Gibbs wanted tea or coffee she was expected to make it for them because they were senior officers, but if a detective constable asked she should tell them to get their own.

      ‘Believe you me, they’ll all try it on when you’re new, but don’t let them get away with it. Really you should have another indexer working with you. I’ve been complaining for months, but nothing has been done to help ease the load. Bradfield said he would ask the DCS for extra staff and another indexer, but when it comes to more female officers they frown and think one is more than enough.’

      Jane was trying hard to take on board everything she had been told, and could hardly believe it when Sally started to put her coat on.

      ‘Are you leaving now?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Will you be coming back tomorrow?’

      ‘No, love, I am officially on maternity leave and I want to go and lie down at home. They knew I was leaving today and I am not staying here another minute, especially after that bloody stupid thing in the toilets.’ She started removing her personal items from drawers, picked up a small pot plant with bedraggled leaves and put everything into a paper carrier bag.

      ‘You have to make sure you keep all the information up to date on the sheets of paper hanging on the walls.’

      Sally jotted down her home number and handed it to Jane, saying that if she ran into any problems, or was confused as to what to do, she could ring her. Jane thanked Sally and wished her well.

      Left alone, Jane sat trying to assimilate everything. She put the thick file from Bradfield to one side thinking she should start on the trays. She took out her notebook and flicked through to the last page where she had made a note when speaking to Donaldson about the red Jaguar. She decided that she would get that done straight away.

      Jane phoned the Bow traffic office and was put through to the garage sergeant. She gave her name and number and said that she was working on the Julie Ann Collins murder investigation. She explained that the witness could only say that he’d seen the car from the rear and thought it was a fairly new red Jaguar.

      ‘Well, I doubt it would be the E-type Jag as they are sports cars, much lower to the ground and a very different shape all round, especially at the rear. You’ll probably be looking for an XJ6, and although your witness said fairly new I’d allow a bit of leeway and go back to September

      1968 when the XJ6 was first manufactured, so anywhere between and including an F to L suffix index plate. Also there are different shades of red, like regency, signal . . .’

      Jane was making notes in her pocket book. ‘OK now, the engine will be a 2.8 or 4.2 litre with six cylinders, which is the more popular, and they all have twin exhausts as well as a petrol cap on both sides of the upper boot. Have you got that?’

      ‘Yes, almost – just a second, and er, don’t they all have a small cat on the bonnet?’

      The sergeant laughed. ‘It’s a statue of a leaping jaguar. It was never on the XJ series, though some people did fit one themselves, but anything like that on a front bonnet became illegal in 1970 because of the injuries it can cause to pedestrians.’

      ‘What about the inside?’

      ‘Wood and leather upholstery is standard on both models.’

      ‘And what colour would the upholstery and carpets be on a red XJ6?’ Jane asked, remembering DS Lawrence pointing out the red fibres on Julie Ann’s socks at the postmortem.

      ‘As standard the leather interior would be magnolia or biscuit with matching light-coloured carpets.’

      ‘Could the boot carpet be red?’ Jane asked, feeling she was clutching at straws.

      ‘All the carpet could be red if you pre-ordered the car and specifically asked for it to be customized.’

      Jane felt a buzz of excitement and wondered if the fibres came from the red Jaguar the victim was last seen getting into. She thanked the garage sergeant for being so helpful and informative and was about to put the phone down.

      ‘Hang on, I haven’t finished. There’s also the possibility it was an XJ12, with a 5.2 litre engine, but that only came out in July last year. Same shape as the XJ6 except it has two small front grilles either side of the large one.’

      Jane licked the tip of her pencil as she realized just what he had said.

      ‘So we could be looking at thousands of Jaguars across the country?’ she asked with trepidation.

      ‘Let’s have a look in my production book here . . . roughly to date the 2.8 is around nineteen thousand vehicles, 4.2 fifty-nine thousand and the XJ12 just short of three thousand, so that’s—’

      She gasped. ‘Eighty-one thousand Jags . . . bloody hell . . . sorry, Sergeant, I didn’t mean to swear.’

      ‘It’s a lot, but you can narrow down your search and start with red and variant-coloured cars registered from ’68 onwards.’

      ‘Could you list those for me?’

      ‘No way, I can’t help you with that. But the manufacturers should be able to, and can give you the registration details so you can track them to the current and any previous owners. Anyway, I need to go as there’s been a fatal accident down by the Blackwall Tunnel. Good luck with your search,’ he said, and ended the call.

      Jane realized the enormity of the task facing Bradfield, even assuming the Jaguar was red. She looked in the Yellow Pages for the nearest Jaguar sales garage. She called them, giving her details to the receptionist

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