Jane replaced the receiver with a soft smile. She found his concern for her very endearing, and noticed how quick he was to ask if it was Dexter who was her dinner guest. She felt excited about meeting up with Natalie to choose her dress and was looking forward to the Good Friday event.
DCI Church perched on the edge of Stanley’s desk, swinging one leg.
‘You know, I don’t think Tennison has really taken on board this situation regarding the Covent Garden suspect. If Daphne Millbank dies, which she was bloody close to the other night, it will leave the bomb squad completely reliant on Jane. As it is, we’ve all been seconded to Crowley’s lot to help find the ASU and Tennison is the only other witness to actually see the bomber.’
‘Yeah, but just his profile, unlike our Daphne, who’s had the balls to say she’d come to an identification parade and is certain she would be able to pick out the scumbag.’
‘But right now we don’t bloody well have anyone… The four suspects from the Balcombe Street siege are waiting to go on trial and are refusing to give up anyone who could be connected.’
‘Is Dexter knocking her off?’
‘What?’
‘I heard you mention his name on the phone to her just now.’
‘I dunno. Crowley did ask him to keep an eye on her.’
‘Well, it’s all gone very quiet.’
Church nodded. He and Stanley both knew that in reality it was too quiet. It was then that Church noticed the memo left on his desk. He drew the single piece of typed paper towards him.
‘What’s this?’
‘Tennison reckons she saw the Hernandez girl getting out of a Jag with none other than Uncle Andres. They were headed into the Playboy Club.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. She got the reg plate. It’s a top-end car service. They supply chauffeurs, drivers, you name it.’
‘Did you pass this on to the Vice Squad?’
‘Yes, of course I did. That’s why I didn’t bother you with it.’
Church snapped. ‘I’m not bothered, Stanley but I should’ve been informed. How is this Andres still out on the streets?’
‘All I’ve been told, Guv, is that he is a problem. He is a very wealthy guy. He lawyered up the girl and her brother, and the other scrote, as well as himself. And there’s some connection to a diplomat. That’s all I know.’
Jane spent the day resting and watching TV after she had tidied her flat and washed her dirty clothes. She felt relaxed and refreshed when she went to the coffee bar to meet Natalie. She had only been sitting in the coffee bar for a few moments when Natalie arrived and waved across the room to her.
‘Hi there! Have you been waiting long?’
‘No, I’ve only just got here. I haven’t even ordered yet.’
Natalie drew out a chair opposite Jane as a waitress came to their table.
‘I’ll just have a cappuccino, please. What about you, Jane?’
‘Same for me… and a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, please.’ Jane smiled as the waitress walked away. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunch. I just need to double-check that I haven’t forgotten any ingredients for the dinner tomorrow.’ Opening her handbag, she took out her list of groceries for the dinner with Michael. ‘When I get home I’ll make the sauce, and I’ll cook the spaghetti fresh tomorrow.’
Natalie lit one of her Kool cigarettes, pulling the ashtray closer to her side of the table. ‘Just remember to add some wine to the sauce before you heat it up… It always tastes much better when it’s had time to marinade overnight.’
Their order was brought to the table. Natalie shared Jane’s toasted sandwich with her, then checked her watch and said that they should get going as she had made an appointment for seven thirty.
Jane insisted on paying; then they left the café and made the short walk to a grand four-storey house in Sloane Avenue.
‘So, when is the event? You might need to have some alterations made,’ Natalie said, as they climbed up the stone steps to ring the doorbell.
‘It’s on Good Friday, at St Ermin’s Hotel.’
‘Ooh, impressive!’ The intercom phone buzzed and Natalie spoke into it. ‘It’s Natalie Wilde and Jane Tennison.’
The front door opened with a loud click sound and an aristocratic voice instructed them to go straight downstairs.
‘It’s in the basement flat, but there’s nothing dark and dingy around here,’ explained Natalie. ‘This is a very exclusive area… the flats above are huge.’
They entered a thickly carpeted main hallway, where an ornate, gilt-framed mirror hung above a three-legged mahogany table. Circulars and unopened mail were neatly laid out in piles for the various flats in the building. They walked past the wide, red-carpeted staircase and the elegant front door of the ground-floor flat, passing through the open door to the basement flat. At the bottom of a narrow staircase they found an elegant white-haired woman waiting for them. She was wearing a flamboyant kaftan, with a chunky amber necklace and matching earrings. She was well made-up, with deep red lipstick.
‘Long time no see, Natalie. Do come in. I’m Isabelle Hunt.’ She held out a manicured hand to Jane, which was adorned with a lot of diamond and gold rings.
‘Jane Tennison.’
‘Lovely to meet you. Do please come on through. As you can see, I have quite a selection… I’d say you are probably a size ten to twelve so you’ll find quite a lot that will fit you. I’ve just got a very special velvet and satin Valentino in… but I’ll let you have a good sort through everything to see what you like.’
Mrs Hunt went to the end of the corridor where there was a door covered with framed photographs of her younger self, wearing elegant gowns. There were also numerous photographs of other women, with ‘Thank you’ scrawled across them from, Jane supposed, her clients. They were mostly wearing beautiful ballgowns, but a few were in wedding dresses.
She opened the door and gestured for them both to walk through ahead of her. The velvet curtains were drawn but she flicked a light switch on. The vast room was lit with high-powered bulbs from tasteful wall sconces, and from the centre of the ceiling hung a large crystal chandelier. There were five racks of dresses running the entire length of the room. Some were not covered by plastic sheets but hung on covered hangers and attached to them were cards with the sizes, and prices for hire or purchase.
‘Is it a special occasion? I like to make sure that my clients don’t over- or underdress, if you know what I mean.’
‘It’s a black-tie dinner dance,’ Jane said, looking along one of the racks.
‘Well, I always think if you’re sitting down you shouldn’t have anything that shows too much cleavage, or has a tight bodice. I would select something like an empire-line gown… always suitable for dining. If you’re hiring we have rules about food stains. You’d be surprised how many dresses are returned with wine spilt down them, or with hems that have been trailing in mud. We add the cost of dry cleaning to the price, as all the gowns are professionally cleaned by an excellent valet service. The sizes are clearly shown at the end of each rail, and get bigger towards the end. I have a selection of designer labels on rail four — Valentino, Ossie Clarke, YSL, Mary Quant, Balmain, Chanel, and so on. The cheaper range is from some of the major department stores, but none of them have usually ever been worn more than once before. The debutante season brings in a lot of younger styles, and obviously all the hunt balls. I even have clients coming over from Ireland… but I don’t advertise, it’s all word of mouth.’
Jane nodded and smiled. She took a quick glance at some of the prices and knew they were way out of her budget. It shocked her to see that most of them were between £150 and £200 and one even had a price tag of £250, but it was a very beautiful sequinned satin gown with a long train.