‘I’m not surprised, the way you were buttering her up in the meeting.’
‘You mentioned our little bet to anyone in the office?’
‘Don’t tell me you’re welshing on it — because if you are, you’ll still owe me twenty quid.’
‘The bet’s still on but I don’t want Murphy, or anyone else on the team, getting wind of it.’
The Colonel double-tapped the side of his nose with his finger.
‘Trust me, Guv, I won’t tell a soul.’
‘You’d better not or I’ll make sure you’re the one that gets screwed. Tell Tennison I want to see her.’
‘Making your play already?’ He winked.
‘About the bloody house-to-house. Now get out on the streets and start hassling your informants for information about the robbery.’
‘I was going to speak to Gentleman Jim. He’s always had his ear to the ground when it comes to armed robberies, especially among the old-style blaggers — having been one himself, of course.’
‘Bloody hell, is he still about?’
‘Yeah, he’s sixty now and has set up a Sunday antiques stall in Brick Lane flea market—’
‘Antiques! What the fuck does he know about antiques apart from stealing them?’
‘He does a nice line in watches, if you’re interested.’ The Colonel pulled up his jacket sleeve. ‘I got this Omega Seamaster from him — apparently Jacques Cousteau used to wear one like this.’
Kingston laughed. ‘That watch is either a fake or knocked off — you tried it out in anything deeper than a bathtub?’
‘It worked fine in me local swimming pool. Anyway, Gentleman Jim always likes a few quid up front first before he starts digging around, so I’ll need at least a score out of the squad informants’ fund.’
‘Twenty quid’s a bit steep to start with — sweeten him up with a tenner and see what he comes up with first.’
‘He generally turns up trumps, so he’ll be expecting a twenty.’
‘All right, but it’d better be worth it. Knock out a request then. I’ll get Murphy’s approval. He wants this case done by the book so don’t let Jim participate in any way or get into agent provocateur territory—’
‘He said he’s too old for robbing banks and reckons he’s going straight.’
‘We both know that’s bollocks!’
As the Colonel left Kingston’s office, Katie walked in, holding the statements up.
‘I asked Tennison to check these statements and help me type them up, but she refused.’
Kingston sighed. ‘Not now, Katie. I’ve got other things to sort out first, then I’ll have a chat with you.’
As Jane walked into the room Katie gave her a scowl and stomped out.
‘What’s bothering her?’ Jane asked with a knowing smile.
‘You are. She said something about refusing to help her type up the statements.’
‘That’s not quite true.’
‘Well, I’ll have a word with Katie and remind her you’re a DS, not a typist.’
‘Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate that.’
She handed him the house-to-house folder.
‘I’d like to revisit Mrs. Clarke and Mrs. Brown personally and go into a bit more detail about garage twenty-nine and the two men seen walking away from Edgar House,’ she told him.
‘Seems strange they should choose that particular garage to dump the getaway car, so further enquiries are fine by me,’ he said without looking up.
‘Is this evening OK, or would you like me to stay in the office and help Katie?’
‘She’s got by on her own many times before and right now the investigation is more important than typing up statements. You mentioned about extending the house-to-house at the office meeting?’
Jane told him about the two other blocks of flats in Blake Hall Road, but Kingston said that for the moment she should just get the enquiries at Edgar House and Felstead Road completed. As he checked the rest of the house-to-house forms, Jane looked around his office. It was much smaller than Murphy’s but had the same style desk and chairs and a large locked filing cabinet; the grey carpet was stained and worn, and the walls were painted the same puke green as the squad office. She noticed a couple of Flying Squad team photographs on the wall behind the desk, and some taken at boxing matches. There was also a large black and white group photograph with about thirty teenagers dressed in sleeveless vests, shorts and boxing boots, with CHINGFORD AMATEUR BOXING CLUB 1958 at the bottom. Lined up on the ground in front of them was an array of silver cups and shields. Jane squinted to see if she could recognize Kingston in the photo.
‘I’m third in from the left on the back row,’ he said without looking up.
‘How old were you then?’
‘Sixteen. The club was at the old Territorial Army drill hall back then, but it’s moved since and now called the Waltham Forest Amateur Boxing Club. The photo to the left was when I won the Lafone police middleweight boxing championships. I was nineteen then and just joined the job.’ He was clearly proud of his achievements. ‘Do you like boxing?’
‘I’ve only ever seen it on TV when I lived at home as my dad sometimes watched it, though he was more into wrestling.’
‘That’s all fake, boxing is the real thing. You get hit hard sometimes — as you can see from the shape of this. It’s been broke a few times,’ he said, tapping a finger to his nose.
Although his nose was slightly crooked, Jane thought it gave him a rugged appearance and didn’t spoil his good looks at all.
‘Do you still box?’
‘Not in proper bouts, but I occasionally pop down to the Waltham Forest club to help out with the kids and do a bit of sparring.’
‘You live over that way then?’
‘Born and raised in Chingford, but I live in Woodford now. What about you, Jane?’
‘I’ve got a flat in Marylebone.’
‘Marylebone, very posh,’ he said with a grin.
‘It’s just a small one-bedroom flat, but I’m looking to move somewhere slightly bigger with a garden.’
‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Not really.’
‘Well, as long it’s within twenty-five miles of Charing Cross you’re entitled to the police housing allowance.’
‘I wouldn’t be able to afford a place of my own if it wasn’t for the housing allowance,’ Jane remarked as she sat down.
‘Crack on with the house-to-house for now. I was a bit hasty this morning about that seventeen-year-old girl who witnessed the shooting of the police car — what was her name again?’
‘Abby Jones. I’ve got a gut feeling she may have seen a bit more than she said.’
‘I know she’s an adult as far as the law’s concerned, but when you speak to her again I’d suggest you have her mother or father present to avoid any allegations that we tried to force her to be a witness or put words in her mouth.’
‘I was going to see her over the weekend, like you suggested in the office meeting, probably Sunday if that’s OK.’ She smiled, recalling his change of tune when Murphy said Abby needed to be seen again.
‘If you want to work Sunday it can’t be for overtime — only a day off in lieu. You can do a couple of hours overtime this evening on the house-to-house, then head off home.’
‘Should I not come back to the office?’
‘No, it’s OK. I’ve told the others there’s no need to but ring the office just in case anything important has come up that needs to be dealt with tonight. Other than that, it’s a nine o’clock start tomorrow.’
‘I could get the statement from the landlady, Fiona Simpson, if you like. I met her earlier when—’
‘I heard you were at the pub,’ he interrupted. ‘I’d already spoken to Mrs. Simpson, so what were you doing there?’
‘I hadn’t seen the scene of the robbery and wanted to familiarize myself with it. I spoke to Mrs. Simpson as I knew she’d seen where the stolen Cortina had parked up just before the robbery and I wanted to check the vicinity for any dropped bullets or—’