Kath moved further into the room.
‘Magistrate was impressed that the little shite admitted his guilt and asked for other offences to be taken into consideration. It was in his favour that none of the poor old pensioners whose life savings he stole, and who he scared the life out of, have to give evidence.’
Jane nodded and began to pick up the notes with her tweezers as Kath continued.
‘Then the ponce solicitor asked for a lenient sentence for the nasty thievin’ git and went on about his remorse for what he’d done. My God, Jane, you should have seen how he reacted, blubbered and cried. He’s remanded in custody to appear at the Crown Court for sentencing, but will probably get about two bloody years, and you know what makes me really sick?’
Jane lost concentration and had to start recounting a bundle.
‘Worst thing is he’ll probably be out in eight months and he’s a nasty vicious little sod. Next time he’ll probably kill someone, he’s that twisted. Villains like Boyle are the scum of the earth, he even gave me this sick gloating smile as if to say he’d got away with it. You mark my words it’s not the last time we’ll hear of Kenneth Boyle.’
‘At least you got him, Kath.’
Yet again Jane made a mistake and had to return to recounting the money.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Kath said and Jane told her she had a day off.
‘Of course, it’s the wedding.’
‘Don’t remind me, it’s sort of crept up on me.’
Kath laughed and let Jane continue her counting whilst she wrote up the result of the Boyle case on a file for the collator PC Donaldson. Jane mentioned that he had gone home at 4 p.m. and Kath left the file on her desk saying she’d give it to Donaldson in the morning.
As Kath left the room Edwards finished his report and took it over to the files ‘IN’ tray.
‘She never stops bloody yakking on — you’d think she was the only person ever to make an arrest. Right, that’s me done and dusted.’ He started to walk out, pausing by Jane’s desk.
‘At the speed you’re going you’ll be here all night. Tarra.’
Jane was really tired and finding it increasingly hard to concentrate, but with a day’s leave coming up she had to finish recording all the serial numbers and then check her list to see if any were sequential, which she reckoned would take at least another couple of hours.
No sooner had Edwards left than DS Gibbs walked in.
‘Guv wants to know if any of the notes run in sequential order.’
Jane sighed. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m on my own and it’s taking a lot of time so...’
‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, O’Duncie is being kept in custody overnight for further interviews.’
He took out a comb from his pocket and ran it front to back through his hair, making it stand up on end, and then ran his fingers either side of his head.
‘I’ve got quite a way to go, but I’ll finish checking all the notes before I go home.’
‘Finish it tomorrow, but make sure the money is locked away in the property-store safe overnight.’
‘I have the day off tomorrow as it’s my sister’s wedding.’
Gibbs replaced the comb in his pocket, and told her he’d get Kath to finish checking it all in the morning.
‘Are you sure? Only I’m worried DCI Bradfield might disapprove if I go off duty just now.’
‘I’ll sort it out and tell him you got a big day tomorrow. I had to take a week off after my brother got married. Nothin’ to do with the wedding, it was the stag night I had to recover from.’
‘Thank you, I really appreciate it, not that I’m looking forward to the wedding: I’m chief bridesmaid.’
‘Well, better a wedding than a funeral, eh, Jane?’ He walked off playing air guitar and making the sound of the strings playing the wedding march. Jane was quite surprised as it was the first time he had called her by her Christian name.
The property office was closed. Jane knew that Duty Sergeant Harris had a key to the office and the safe, so she would have to get him to open it up for her.
‘What do you want, Tennison?’ Harris snapped as she approached.
Jane explained that she needed the property store opened, the seized money put in the safe and a property-deposit invoice signed.
‘Well, one favour deserves another, so when I’ve done that you can take over on the front desk for an hour while I have my grub.’
She tried to explain that DS Gibbs had said she could go off duty. Harris said that it was busy out on the streets and there was no one to come in and relieve him so she’d better show some willing seeing as he’d allowed her to be attached to the murder team.
Jane knew it was pointless arguing and didn’t want to interrupt Gibbs and Bradfield while they were busy so she did as she was told.
She dealt with two people who came in to report a couple of minor crimes and an elderly woman who’d lost her purse in the street. An hour and a half passed and Sergeant Harris hadn’t returned. Jane suspected he was probably playing snooker, but she couldn’t leave the front desk unmanned.
She’d just sat back down when a civilian courier arrived with the internal mail, which she signed for and then began to sort out into piles.
Jane noticed that an envelope was addressed to her. Opening it she read that there was a place available at the section house, but if she wanted the room she had to reply within forty-eight hours. She immediately started to fill out her personal details on the residents’ form. Knowing that her parents would be upset she was moving out, Jane decided it would be best to tell them after the wedding. She completed the forms and put them in a return envelope addressed to the section house sergeant at Ede House.
As she sealed the envelope and popped it into the internal mail bag Sergeant Harris finally returned.
‘Why’s all that mail on the desk? You’re supposed to put it in the relevant drawer trays.’
‘I was about to but—’
‘Then get on with it before you go off duty,’ he sneered, deliberately trying to antagonize her.
She knew what he was trying to do but smiled. ‘My pleasure, Sergeant. Sadly there’s nothing for you.’
Having dealt with all the mail she returned to the incident room to get her handbag and personal belongings. As she passed Bradfield’s office she could hear him and Gibbs chatting and wondered if there were any further developments, but she had no intention of hanging about to find out. As she picked up her handbag she noticed the open file Kath had left on the desk. She glanced at the mug shot of Kenneth Boyle and suppressed a shudder. There was something about his almost pretty-boy face, with its wide-apart dark hooded eyes and thin mouth that chilled her. No wonder Kath felt so angry about the short sentence: Boyle definitely deserved a lot longer for the stress and fear he’d inflicted. Flicking the file shut, Jane walked out of the office and headed to the bus stop, feeling depressed by the day’s events.
David Bentley tuned the radio to another channel. David Cassidy’s ‘How Can I Be Sure’ filled the van.
‘Turn that Cassidy wanker off,’ John said.
They were at the rented garage and had just finished attaching the advertising logos to the sides of the van: ‘Home Decorating, Painting and Carpentry’, ‘Professionals at Reasonable Prices’ — all of which could be easily peeled off at any time. The back windows were covered with pictures David had cut out from magazines: tins of paint, paper-pasting boards, paintbrushes and ladders. They had earlier purchased two smaller stolen Kango hammer drills for cash from a dealer in Essex and were now loading them into the van, along with the additional equipment needed for the job. John reversed the loaded van into the garage and locked the heavy metal garage door. David was using his walking stick and had not been very helpful due to his lameness, but John had tried to include him as much as possible.