‘If you pass the exam, as a detective, you would be required to work in uniform for one year before you could return as a detective sergeant.’
Jane bit down on her bottom lip. One side of her mouth was still scarred where Allard had struck her but she kept tight control and audaciously reminded Metcalf of their previous conversation after Bradfield’s death. Metcalf’s cheeks turned pink. It was hard to determine if it was from anger, or whether he had forgotten that conversation.
Eventually he said very quietly, ‘I’m a man of my word and if that’s what you want then I’ll recommend you for the next CID interview board in about a month’s time. But I’m only able to recommend you, and passing the board is entirely down to how you perform on the day in front of the panel.’ Metcalf peered at her and his tone became brisk. ‘Do your homework and brush up on CID procedure.’ He stood up to signal that their meeting was over and Jane saluted him.
‘I wish you’d stop doing that, Tennison… a handshake will suffice.’
‘Thank you very much, sir, I will remember that.’
Standing ramrod straight she walked out, very pleased with herself, and reckoned she had handled the meeting well.
Jane went straight to the property store to book out the steroids recovered from Allard’s address. PC Doig, the property officer, was a pleasant, rotund old soul who originated from Glasgow. He had a strong Scottish accent that, even after twenty-five years in London, was often hard to understand. He was badly injured after being hit by a car in the line of duty and had spent the last four years assigned to desk duties in the ‘dungeon’, as officers referred to the basement property store.
‘Hello, wee Jane, how ye doin’? I heard you pulled a real belter the other night, arrestin’ that rotten bastard Allard for rape. That’s a nasty cut he gave your lip.’
‘Thanks, Dougal, but it wasn’t just me who made the arrest.’
‘You’re a canny lass that’s fer sure. Now, what’re you aboot?’
‘The bag of tablets in the Allard case, please.’
‘Aye, did ye see them magazines he had? I could na believe the dirty pictures in ’em when I had a wee gander.’ He walked off down the aisle of high shelving to look for the property.
Jane tried not to laugh at his remark about the magazines, as he’d obviously had a good ‘gander’.
‘Right, here ye are. I need yer ta sign in the book here. Are they going ta the lab?’
‘Yes,’ Jane said.
PC Doig put the bag of tablets down on the desk and opened up the property book. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and handed it to Jane, asking her to fill out each section with the date, property exhibit number, case name and description of the property. The page was nearly full and as she filled out each section she couldn’t help but notice the entries above the one she was making. The dates went back three days and she was surprised that nowhere among the entries for withdrawal or deposit was there a blue rabbit fur coat. Moran’s name was there but only relating to the deposit of the Allard property. She flicked back a few pages to double-check, but still found no entry for the coat. Jane distinctly remembered Moran saying the fur coat was evidence in a ‘handling’ case and asking her to leave it on a chair in his office as he needed to put it back in the property store.
‘The fur coat I used for the decoy operation… I was just wondering if it was returned to the store, as it was evidence in a case?’
‘What fur coat? I’ve nay had any fur coats in here. If I did, believe me I’d be wearin’ it… it’s that damn cold doon here.’
‘It was blue rabbit fur, and waist length.’
‘Nope, d’nay what yer talkin’ aboot, Janey… If it was ta do with an overnight prisoner then it may never have got doon here, and could ha been locked in the charge room cabinet.’
The word ‘prisoner’ sparked a memory in Jane’s mind. It was DC Edwards telling her that Moran had gone downstairs to put the fur jacket back in the property store, and release a prisoner he had in on suspicion of dishonest handling. Then Sergeant Harris had told her that DI Moran released his other prisoner the same night she arrested Allard.
She filled out the rest of the details about the steroids in the property book. Why had Moran lied to her about the rabbit fur coat? It just didn’t make sense… unless there was something he wanted to hide. She thanked PC Doig for his help.
Jane went straight to the charge room to look through the prisoner arrest and release records for the twenty-four-hour period before and after Allard’s arrest. She was thankful there was no one there, other than a cleaner. She went over to the bookshelf, removed the ‘Prisoner’ book and sat down at the charge room desk to look through it. It didn’t take long. Early in the morning on the day of the decoy operation, DI Moran had arrested a Mary Kelly, aged twenty-nine, unemployed, and of no fixed abode. Jane’s eyes opened wide when she read that Kelly was arrested on suspicion of handling stolen goods and Moran had released her, without charge, in the early hours of the morning… after Peter Allard was arrested. The ‘Prisoner’ book didn’t say what the ‘stolen goods’ were, but Jane knew it would be recorded on Mary Kelly’s arrest sheet, which would be kept in date order in a large binder, along with all the prisoners kept in custody at Hackney. As she was about to replace the ‘Prisoner’ book the charge room door opened and Sergeant Harris appeared.
‘What are you up to, Tennison?’
She’d already prepared an answer in anticipation that someone might walk in on her, and pointed to the bag of steroids on the table.
‘I’ve got to fill out a lab form regarding those tablets and I needed the time we booked Allard in. I forgot to put it in my notes and couldn’t remember,’ she said and then stood up, replaced the ‘Prisoner’ book on the shelf and quickly left the room before Harris could say anything. She was annoyed that she was unable to see what property was logged against Mary Kelly’s arrest record, but was almost certain it had to be the blue rabbit fur coat. She’d try to sneak back later to have a look, but the more Jane uncovered the more she felt something was seriously wrong.
She thought about the woman she had seen on the way back to the section house the previous evening. The tall, dusky skinned, statuesque girl who was wearing a pale blue rabbit fur coat. Jane wondered if she was Mary Kelly, but the reality was it could have just been a coincidence and she didn’t get a good look at the woman’s face so she doubted she would recognize her again. Jane also knew that as Mary Kelly was released without charge no fingerprints or photograph would have been taken, but she might have a criminal record for previous offences. An idea occurred to her and she decided to seek out PC Donaldson.
PC Donaldson, the station collator, was one of the oldest and longest-serving officers at Hackney. He was overweight with ruddy cheeks and a thatch of white hair. He was perched on a stool in front of his desk reading a newspaper, his chipped mug of coffee beside him. There were other chairs in the room but he found them uncomfortable because of his bad back and preferred the stool as it kept him more upright. The room was crammed with filing cabinets, large and small, containing files and card indexes on every known criminal and persons of interest in Hackney. The basement room had strip lights and only one window, which was so high up it was dirty and cobwebbed, and had obviously never been opened.
‘Morning, Tennison,’ he said with a warm smile.
Jane had become very fond of Donaldson. He was always pleasant and helpful and she stood smiling as she watched his wide bum splay over the edges of the stool. His police issue trousers hung a few inches above his ankles and revealed his thick crepe-soled black polished shoes.
‘I just wanted to check out someone’s name with you.’
Donaldson eased himself down from his stool. ‘No problem… the name is?’