Tennison (11 page)

‘I remember I was about to go home, so it would have been three o’clock, or maybe around four thirtyish. I mean, like tonight, I was there until I come in here.’

‘Was this recent? Can you recall what day it was?’

‘Erm, well, let me think . . .’ She paused for a few seconds. ‘At least two weeks before they found her murdered. I remember it because it was against the rules to be in that office, even I’m not allowed to use the doctors’ phones. They got a call box in reception but it’s always out of order.’

‘Do you remember who she was phoning?’

‘No, I don’t know who it was.’

‘Think hard, try and remember – every little detail is important.’

There was a silence as O’Duncie closed her eyes and touched her forehead with her hand.

‘I’m sure I heard her asking for money. I think she said the name Paddy but whoever it was she swore at them and when she saw me she hung up. I told her she wasn’t allowed to use the doctors’ offices and she said sorry and just walked out.’

‘Did you report it to anyone at the hospital?’

‘No, I didn’t see any need to.’

Jane hurried Miss O’Duncie out and then went in search of Bradfield. He was in his office with DS Spencer Gibbs and four other detectives, all playing cards and chain-smoking whilst drinking whisky and beer.

‘What do you want, Tennison? Can’t you see we’re busy?’ DS Gibbs said, a cigarette between his lips as he poured Bradfield a stiff Scotch.

‘Sir, just after you left O’Duncie recalled Julie Ann making a phone call in a doctor’s office to someone while Eddie Phillips was keeping watch outside in the corridor.’

‘What?’

‘It was two weeks ago. She was a bit unsure but she thought she heard her say the name Paddy and something about money. Apparently she was very angry and was swearing and shouting.’

He inhaled deeply, sipped his whisky, and let the smoke drift from his nose.

‘Is O’Duncie still here?’

‘No, sir, I let her go.’

‘Well, that’s no use to me right now, is it? Type up a report and leave it in an envelope for me and I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning.’

‘I’m off duty in an hour, sir, but if you need me to visit the drug clinic this evening to check their phone records I can . . . ’

He glared at her. ‘What? If I need you? What the fuck are you inferring, if I need you? Jesus Christ, I’ve had it up to here today and I’m trying to relax now, so go home . . . hop it.’

Having typed up the O’Duncie interview report Jane collected her belongings from the incident room and went to the ladies’ locker room. There was now a printed notice: ‘
LADIES ONLY
–
NO MEN ALLOWED
!’ on the door. Having washed her hands she was about to dry them when she noticed a new dent in the metal roller towel. She smiled realizing someone must have upset Kath. She suddenly heard Bradfield’s voice in the corridor outside.

‘Listen, Spence, I want that screwball junkie Eddie Phillips brought back in and given a rough time. He must know something about that phone call, or at least who it was made to. Get the night shift out there looking for him.’

‘If that’s what you want. Wearing out the carpet though, isn’t he?’ Gibbs said.

Jane dried her hands, still listening, easing down the roller towel.

‘Get someone down to that hospital tonight and see if they keep phone records for calls made. I’m interested in the day she was last seen and three days prior. O’Duncie’s a bit dim, and I doubt she can tell the bloody time, so I want every call checked from between 1 to 6 p.m. for that period.’

‘No problem, guv, and it shouldn’t be difficult to link a number to this Paddy guy . . . if he’s not ex-directory, that is.’

‘I feel like I’m losing the plot, Spence, and I’m totally knackered. That young Tennison is as sharp as a tack, maybe too sharp for her own good.’

‘Me and the lads are going for a few pints down the Warburton Arms and then for a curry in Brick Lane. Why don’t you join us?’

‘I might take you up on that.’

‘Have you seen this?’

‘What?’

Gibbs pointed to the notice on the locker-room door. ‘Any money it’s Kath Morgan having a moan – “ladies only” I’m taking that down . . . Better still, I’m gonna take a crap in there and not flush it.’

Bradfield laughed. ‘Come on, let’s finish the card game and get down to the pub.’

Jane sighed with relief as she heard them leave. She waited a few more moments before she eased the door open to make sure the coast was clear.

Jane was in work early the next morning, in order to try and clear the investigation ‘IN’ tray before the office meeting at 10 a.m. She checked her own tray in the PCs’ writing room and was surprised to see the Jaguar brochures there. There was a note saying that the sales garage receptionist had dropped them off on her way home, rather than posting them. Jane left the brochures, along with the reports about the Jaguar cars and the flying squad information, on DCI Bradfield’s desk and managed to get a big pile of indexing done before he walked in at eight thirty.

‘Good morning, sir,’ she said politely.

‘No, Tennison, it’s not a good morning,’ he replied gruffly.

His grey suit was badly creased, his Windsor-knot tie loose and top shirt button undone. He had a face like thunder, and it was obvious he was very hungover from the previous evening’s gambling and drinking session.

‘Can I help you with anything?’ Jane asked.

‘Not unless you can conjure up more staff or know where Eddie Phillips is!’ he snapped.

‘I could make some enquiries about Phillips with—’

Jane was about to say the collator but was cut off by Bradfield.

‘No, you can get a “Wanted” telex circulated Met-wide with his details and description. Also, put it out over the local radio to all the uniform patrol officers. There’s a bottle of Scotch up for whoever finds and nicks him first – two bottles if it’s before midday.’

Jane selected Eddie’s index card from the carousel and started to copy his details down onto a message pad when she was interrupted by Bradfield handing her a £1 note. He said he’d be in his office with DS Gibbs and they both wanted coffee and a bacon sandwich.

Jane wasn’t happy about being used as a personal waitress, but she’d already been warned by Kath that when a senior officer told you to do something you did as asked or your cards were marked. First she went to the control room and sent out the telex and radio message regarding Eddie Phillips. Next Jane got the bacon sandwiches and coffees, then with a forced smile took them into Bradfield’s office. Gibbs was also hungover and stank of stale booze. For once his manic energy had been stifled – he wasn’t even tapping on the table, playing drums as he usually liked to do. Once back in the incident room Jane continued with the indexing. The eight detectives on the squad gradually came in to book on before wandering off for some breakfast. Most of them were polite, asked who she was and introduced themselves, but there were two or three who seemed to turn their noses up at her and didn’t have the courtesy to even say good morning. One of them even had the cheek to ask her to get him a cup of tea, but she fibbed and told him DCI Bradfield had said that she wasn’t to be the tea lady for junior officers. It had the desired result as the detective grunted and walked off without a word. She was learning fast.

Two detectives were in the office when Kath came in with a face like thunder.

‘Which one of you lot thought it would be amusing to draw on my notice?’ she bellowed and waved the sign from the ladies’ locker room above her head.

Jane could see a drawing of testicles and a large penis, the head of which had a smiley face on it.

‘If it happens again then I will be taking fucking finger-prints. Yours are all on file and I’ll easily find the culprit, so leave my notices alone.’

The two detectives laughed and said it was nothing to do with them.

‘Just like cling film on the toilet bowl, I suppose? Use your own bloody loo, or next time I’ll have your tackle hanging from the door.’

‘Ouch,’ they both said as they left for the canteen.

Although Jane agreed with Kath, and thought it was a very childish prank, she had to force herself not to giggle. She suspected the drawing was DS Gibbs’s work, having heard him chatting to Bradfield outside the locker room the previous evening, but she kept quiet.

‘Good for you, Kath.’

‘Bloody detectives are supposed to be experienced and mature, but they behave more like a bunch of kids. They even come on duty and go straight off to the canteen for breakfast.’

‘I know – in uniform we don’t even get a cuppa after parade because we have to go straight out on patrol.’

Kath shook her head and having calmed herself down said she’d help Jane with the indexing before the meeting.

The team gathered in the small office, some sitting on chairs whilst others perched on the edge of desks. When DCI Bradfield entered with DS Gibbs everyone stood up and the DCI motioned with his hands for them to sit down. He pointed in the direction of Kath and Jane.

‘I’m sure most of you already know WPC Morgan. She’ll be working with us for a few days and—’

A detective interjected. ‘If you can’t see Kath, you’ll always be able to hear her coming, guv.’ He then made the sound of a foghorn which caused ripples of laughter round the room. Kath refrained from responding and simply smiled.

Bradfield continued, ‘And this is WPC Tennison, who’s filling in for Sally for a bit whilst she’s on maternity leave.’

‘How’s the father feel about that?’ a detective asked.

‘How should I know? I’ve never met Sally’s husband,’ Bradfield remarked irritably.

‘I didn’t mean Sally’s old man, guv . . . I meant DC Ashby.’

There was more laughter round the room and Jane wasn’t sure if Ashby’s face was red with anger or embarrassment at the remark. DS Gibbs told them all to shut up and behave. Kath leant over to Jane and whispered that everyone thought DC Ashby was having an affair with Sally as they had once been caught coming out of the ladies’ locker room together on a night shift.

Bradfield proceeded by asking what the hell had gone wrong with the re-arrest of Eddie Phillips. Jane now realized why he had been so mad when he came in that morning. DC Ashby explained that Eddie wasn’t at the squat or his grandmother, Nancy Phillips’ flat when night-shift officers turned up there at midnight. Nor was he there at 6 a.m. when Ashby and a colleague visited the flat. She was a tough lady with iron-grey hair who told them to fuck off and stop harassing her and her grandson. Then, whilst searching the place, they had taken further abuse about causing her angina to flare up.

Bradfield took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. ‘Bloody marvellous, so it looks like the lying little shit has done a runner.’

The office door opened and DS Paul Lawrence walked in. He apologized for being late and explained that he’d been busy discussing some forensic results with the scientist and they had both worked in the lab until after midnight on the case. He handed Bradfield an envelope and said it contained photographs of the scene and postmortem.

‘Has anyone checked Homerton Hospital drug unit for Phillips?’ DS Gibbs asked.

Everyone looked at each other blankly until a detective spoke up and said that he went there yesterday evening to make enquiries about the phone call Anjali O’Duncie allegedly heard Julie Ann make, but no one had mentioned anything about Eddie returning to the hospital.

‘Sir, if Eddie overdosed he could be in a hospital casualty unit or on a normal ward being treated,’ Jane commented.

The room went quiet and she felt as if everyone was staring at her because she had had the audacity to say something. She noticed Bradfield nod his head slightly as he looked at her. However, he said nothing and let Gibbs continue.

‘Right, Tennison, after the meeting phone the Homerton. If Phillips isn’t there then ring round every casualty hospital in London if you have to.’

Jane nodded to Gibbs and saw Kath give her a sly wink and thumbs-up for her suggestion.

Bradfield returned to the officer who had been making enquiries at the Homerton about the phone call.

‘Is there any good news on that front?’

‘Well, guv, it’s sort of yes and no.’

He explained that on the last day Julie Ann had been seen at the clinic a telephone switchboard operator recalled a lady on the internal line saying she was a nurse and needed to contact the parents of a patient. The nurse then asked for a directory enquiry to be made and the operator thought she sounded rather distressed.

‘You get the details, name, address, etc?’ Bradfield asked.

‘The hospital operator did get a number and gave it to the woman, but she didn’t keep a record and can’t remember any details about it. Also the hospital don’t list every call from every phone.’

‘One step forward, two back,’ Bradfield remarked, shaking his head in disappointment.

‘Maybe not. Whoever asked for the number would probably have written it down. If the doctor had a notepad on his desk the unknown lady, who could have been Julie Ann, may have written the number and address down,’ DS Lawrence suggested.

‘But she would have torn the details off the pad,’ Gibbs remarked.

‘Yes, but when you write on something like a notepad the pressure of the pen, or pencil, carries through to the pages underneath the top one. We can light the pages below the original document from different angles, use some multiple-exposure photography and hopefully bring up the indented writing left behind.’

‘But it was two weeks ago,’ Gibbs said, shaking his head.

‘So what? For one we don’t know how many pages of the pad have been used since, it could be none if the doctor’s been away, and besides, nothing ventured nothing gained,’ Lawrence retorted.

Bradfield sighed. ‘Ashby, get down to the Homerton now and ask O’Duncie to show you the doctor’s room Julie Ann used to make the call. If he’s got a notepad take it up to the lab pronto.’

Ashby grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door.

‘Any more gems of wisdom for us, DS Lawrence?’ Bradfield asked.