Tennison - Lynda La plante

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      ‘Make that your first and last mistake on my squad, Morgan, or you’ll be directing traffic for the rest of your career. Tell me about the flying squad first,’ Bradfield snapped.

      Kath recalled as much as she could from what Jane had told her the previous day.

      Jane added that the garage sergeant had told her that roughly eighty-one thousand Jags had been manufactured since 1968.

      ‘Jesus Christ, eighty-one thousand,’ DS Gibbs exclaimed and there were looks of disbelief round the room.

      Jane pointed out that the search could be narrowed down if they started with red and variant-coloured cars registered from 1968 in London, and those that were specially ordered with red carpets. She also mentioned that she had contacted a Jaguar dealer for brochures on the two models concerned. Bradfield told her to get on to the manufacturers and make enquiries after the meeting.

      DS Lawrence spoke next. ‘You need to consider the Daimler as well.’

      ‘Why? We’re looking for a Jag,’ Gibbs said, exasperated.

      ‘Jaguar own the Daimler brand and the car is essentially, in size and shape, the same as the Jag, but more luxurious. A lot of people mistake one for the other and the only differences, as far as I’m aware, are the shape of the front grille and the badge.’

      Bradfield remarked that with the Daimler now being a possibility it could mean another few thousand vehicles and owners to try and trace. He told Kath to help Tennison regarding the car enquiries and to get some Daimler brochures as well.

      ‘That little junkie, Phillips, could be lying but either way he needs to be found asap and leant on. I want more detail about the car he saw Julie Ann getting in. We can show him the brochures and take him out on the streets to point out a bloody car that looks the same. If he was the lookout when Julie Ann made the phone call then there’s a good chance he knows who this “Paddy” is.’

      ‘Paddy doesn’t sound like a black person’s name,’ a detective remarked.

      ‘Neither does Anjali O’Duncie,’ Bradfield fired back.

      ‘Could Julie Ann have said something else that sounds similar to Paddy?’ Gibbs suggested.

      ‘For Chrissake, cut all this crap with names. Bloody well get out there and find Eddie – that’s the only way we’ll trace who she called,’ Bradfield shouted, and started to delegate tasks to his team.

      He told one of them to go over to Stoke Newington and speak with the flying squad detectives about the Jag they had recovered, and the Italian who had been arrested for robbery. He also wanted the house-to-house enquiries extended to all the blocks of flats on the Pembridge Estate and told Gibbs to organize it.

      DS Lawrence asked if there was anything else DCI Bradfield needed him for as he’d like to get back to the lab and have a look at the red XJ6 that the Sweeney lads had sent up, to see if the carpet fibres were a match.

      Bradfield concluded the meeting and returned to his office to ring George Collins, the victim’s father, and ask him to come to the station as there were a couple of developments regarding the investigation that he needed to discuss in private with him.

      While Bradfield was still on the phone to Mr Collins, Jane took him his coffee. She could see that he had now opened the envelope containing her typed reports and had them laid out in front of him. She was about to turn and leave when he held his hand up, palm facing her, to indicate that she was to stay put. A few seconds later he ended the call with Mr Collins.

      ‘Good work with the Jaguar enquiries, but I would prefer to be told about this sort of information prior to an office meeting.’

      ‘Sorry, sir, I thought you wanted me to leave the reports in an envelope for you.’

      ‘As you can see I am very busy and have a pile of paperwork, case files and envelopes on my desk. If something is important I need you to communicate it to me verbally as well.’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ Jane said, feeling he was blaming her for not reading the reports himself. She turned to leave.

      ‘I haven’t finished,’ he said, and held up the report concerning the flying squad arrest of the Italian and the recovery of the Jag. ‘If WPC Morgan forgot to relay this information to me, why did you type up the report?’

      Jane paused, unsure how best to answer his question, but Bradfield didn’t wait for an answer and she felt her stomach churn in anticipation of an angry outburst from him.

      ‘As I thought . . . you both lied. However, loyalty to your colleagues is what the CID is all about, but don’t let it happen again. Now go and get on with your work.’

      ‘Yes, sir, thank you.’

      ‘One more thing, come here.’

      She hesitated and edged closer to his desk. He sniffed, leaning further towards her.

      ‘You smell of Dettol.’

      ‘I’m sorry, sir, I still haven’t got my jacket and skirt drycleaned from when I was on the floor at the mortuary and—’

      ‘All right, all right – go on, get back to work.’

      *

      Jane went to the incident room and told Kath what Bradfield had just said to her about them covering for each other. They both smiled cheekily, realizing they had been lucky to get away with it. Kath remarked that maybe he had a lighter side to him, and Jane replied that next time it was just best they told the truth and took the flak for their mistakes.

      As they sat going over what they had to do, and who would do what, Sergeant Harris walked in with a smirk of satisfaction on his face. He announced that two of his uniform officers had been doing the murder squad’s job for them while they sat and drank coffee. Kath asked what he meant and Harris replied that Eddie Phillips had been seen wandering aimlessly on the Pembridge Estate, and having been arrested by his officers was now in a cell downstairs.

      Kath suggested that Jane go and give Bradfield the good news, but she hesitated.

      ‘What’s up?’

      ‘Do I smell of Dettol?’

      ‘Yeah, I noticed it, why?’

      ‘I must be getting used to it – my jacket and skirt need dry-cleaning.’

      Kath went to her bag, took out a perfume spray, and before Jane could refuse gave her a few squirts. It was an expensive perfume she always wore herself.

      ‘There you go. It’s called Ambush, Goddess of Fragrance.’

      Jane was about to go to Bradfield’s office when DS Gibbs walked in and sniffed.

      ‘Bloody hell, smells like somebody shat in a pine forest in here.’

      ‘Piss off,’ Kath mumbled under her breath.

      ‘What did you say, Morgan?’ Gibbs said with a glare, wondering if she was being insubordinate.

      ‘It’s off.’

      ‘What’s off?’

      ‘The search for Eddie Phillips. He’s been nicked and is in the cells downstairs—’

      Gibbs was out of the office to tell Bradfield the good news before she could even finish the sentence.

      Jane couldn’t believe how much Kath had pushed her luck, but was pleased not to have to see Bradfield when she was reeking of Kath’s perfume.

      As soon as Bradfield heard they had arrested Eddie Phillips, he went down to the cells with DS Gibbs to get him out for an interview. True to his word he took down a bottle of whisky for each of the arresting officers from the crate stashed in his office.

      Eddie was asleep

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