‘Mum’s asleep,’ David said.
John looked up and stared at his brother. He realized from the dozy expression on his face he’d recently taken his medication.
‘Are you all right, Dave?’
‘Sure, just going to lie down. Get me up this afternoon when you’re ready to go to Pentonville.’
‘OK. Finances are really tight for the job. We still got a lot of stuff to store and need a good walkie-talkie set. The guy in Kent told me they got some at the Army barracks in Woolwich.’
‘What, they sellin’ off equipment?’
‘No, I’m gonna have to nick ’em unless we can bribe a squaddie.’
‘We? Are you taking me with you?’ David asked nervously.
‘No, I meant Danny Mitcham. He knows where the barracks is and being an ex-squaddie has a contact so I’ll take him with me to suss it out.’
‘Danny? So Danny’s gonna be in on it as well then?’ David frowned.
John nodded and went back to looking at his notebook.
‘Are you sure about him? I mean he was discharged because he’s a head case.’
‘Danny whacked a military copper who was asking for it. Besides, he’s reliable and as strong as an ox. He was on bomb disposals and there’s nothin’ he don’t know about electrics. Now you go an’ lie down, and sleep off your painkillers cos you know how Dad hates you lookin’ dozy.’
David shuffled to his room and awkwardly lowered himself onto the bed. He thought about what his ma had said and wished he’d kept his mouth shut about Florida, but that’s where he’d always dreamed of flying to. Not only for the sun and sea, but also the specialist treatment he’d been reading about. He had been given very little information or medical advice on his badly broken legs either in the hospital or the prison. The doctors and wardens said he deserved what he got for thieving. Whilst he was in prison the plaster cast on his right leg had been cut off and replaced twice due to the agonizing pain it caused. The doctors had attempted to straighten his leg, but it became deformed and twisted along the bone and knee joint. It had been eighteen months of torture until he could stand unaided, but his foot was permanently arched, the leg bent and he was in constant pain.
David eventually started to work out at a men-only gym, and the trainer encouraged him to concentrate on his upper-body strength. He soon became hooked on the high he got from working out hard and enjoyed the release that the physical exercise gave him from his daily stress and depression. At home, in the privacy of his bedroom mirror, he would proudly display his six pack and muscular arms to himself, but no amount of pornography lifted his flaccid member.
David remembered with humiliation the time he’d decided to pay a prostitute, but found himself unable to get an erection. His doctor told him that his inability to have an erection, and his depression, were physically and mentally linked to his accident and lame leg. He had left his local doctor’s surgery refusing to believe he was impotent. Walking home he recognized some of the slags off the estate who he knew were toms that used a squat to do their business with clients. He had foolishly tried again, paying a blonde prostitute upfront, but this time the anger at his inability to perform made him physically abusive towards her. She threatened to report him to the police but he knew she never would, never could, as she was a cheap junkie selling her body for sex.
Feeling a fresh rush of frustration he thought instead about how he’d like a joint now, so he could dream about Florida. If they pulled the job off, it was going to be a reality — first class all the way. As he slowly drifted off to sleep he thought about the risk of them being caught. He knew that he would never survive another prison sentence. It was a sad comfort, but nevertheless a decision he had made — if they failed he would take his own life.
Chapter twelve
On her journey to the station Jane couldn’t stop thinking about Dr Harker’s lecture. Her quiet evening at home with her mother after the wedding rehearsal had ended on a note of amusement when a drunken Pam had returned home, picked up a wedding magazine and started moaning that she was unsure about her choice of wedding dress.
Mrs Tennison had had to persuade Pam that it was too late now to change her mind.
‘It’s gorgeous and you’ve made the right choice. It’s just pre-wedding nerves.’
Jane had laughed and said to herself, wait until you see the state of my cleavage in my tight bridesmaid dress!
She had gone to her bedroom, leaving her mother and Pam to discuss the final details, bouquets and veils. For the first time in weeks she had not, as usual, gone straight to sleep. Instead she lay on her bed and thought about how she could use what she had learnt from the Harker lecture on the Julie Ann Collins case, especially as it helped to take her mind off the hideous bridesmaid dress.
Refreshed and eager to get back to work, Jane arrived at the station at 8 a.m. She was unsure whether DCI Bradfield would still want, or need her, to continue with the indexing of statements and information on the Collins investigation. She was about to knock on his door when Kath saw her in the corridor and scooted out from the incident room.
‘Shush, Jane, don’t wake him up. He’s having a kip in his armchair.’
They both went into the incident room and Kath continued to update Jane about Bradfield.
‘He didn’t finish in the mortuary until 2 a.m., and then he had to write up his report cos the DCS is on his back. He’s been here all night and God knows what time he eventually got to sleep. I’ve had a pretty rough night of it — Spencer Gibbs had me looking after Mrs Phillips after she threw a wobbly, but mind you I don’t blame her under the circumstances.’
Jane had a puzzled look on her face. ‘Kath, can you please slow down and start at the beginning as I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about regarding Mrs Phillips.’
‘Sorry, I totally forgot you were at Harker’s lecture yesterday. Bloody brilliant, isn’t he? Did you spot the crucial clue with the suspect’s trainers?’
‘Yes to the talk and no to the trainers. Tell me more about what’s been happening here.’
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly here, over at Regent’s Canal to be exact. Anyway get a couple of coffees and a bacon roll for us both, an egg in mine as well, and then I’ll give you the whole story,’ Kath said, handing Jane some money.
She returned from the canteen fifteen minutes later and listened intently as Kath told her everything that had occurred the previous evening concerning Eddie Phillips and his grandmother.
‘She was in tears but calm at first, well, more in a sort of catatonic shock, I’d say. Then when she ID-ed Eddie’s body at the mortuary she really went off on one, screamed her head off and went for poor old Spencer. Her personality change was unbelievable.’
‘Did she hit DS Gibbs?’ Jane asked with surprise.
‘Tried to slap him and then kicked him in the shins. It was quite funny as he was hopping about on one leg because it hurt so much!’
‘Why did she react like that?’
‘Do me a favour, Eddie’s face was bloated and discoloured from being in the water. Anyway she was convinced Bradfield and Gibbs had beaten him to death then dumped his body in the Regent’s Canal.’ Kath went on to explain how she’d had to restrain Nancy and get the police surgeon out to sedate her.
‘I felt so sorry for her I took her home and stayed the night with her. The drugs calmed her down, but she still had tears spilling down her cheeks and kept saying, ‘My poor little fella, what a waste.’ Eddie was all she had and even though he was a druggie she obviously loved him. She even told me that looking after him was what kept her going. Eventually she fell asleep, but when she woke up at the crack of dawn the drugs had worn off. She saw me as the enemy cos I was connected to Bradfield and Gibbs. She screamed that she’d tell the papers and get a petition up from everyone on the estate about how the police had murdered her grandson.’