‘I want you to deal with it and determine whether or not it’s connected to our investigation.’
He walked off into his office and closed the door.
Jane rang Tottenham Police Station and was told that the sergeant who’d spoken to Emma Wilson wasn’t on duty until two o’clock. She looked again at the information sheet and was dismayed at the lack of detail. She looked at Miss Wilson’s address on the information sheet but couldn’t find the estate name in the A-Z.
‘You know where the Broadwater Farm estate is?’ she asked Teflon, who was sitting at the desk abutting hers doing some paperwork.
He stopped and looked at her. ‘Why are you interested in the Broadwater?’
‘The woman who went into Tottenham Police Station lives there.’
‘Ring her and ask her to meet you at Tottenham nick.’
‘There’s no phone number on the info sheet, just the address.’
Teflon picked up a paper clip and threw it at Cam to get his attention.
‘Piss off,’ Cam said as the clip bounced off his head.
Teflon gestured with his finger for Cam to join them. Reluctantly he got up and went over to see what he wanted.
‘You OK to get the PC’s statement on your own?’ Teflon asked him.
‘The Guv told us both to do it.’
‘I know, but Tennison needs to visit the Broadwater and was thinking of going on her own.’
Cam looked at Jane, his eyebrows raised.
‘It’s a crime-ridden shithole and the last place on earth where you’d want to be on your own. It’s commonly known as “the Farm” — because it’s full of animals.’
‘Its reputation’s so bad that many people who are offered a council flat on the Broadwater refuse it, and there’s loads of existing tenants queuing up to get moved off,’ Teflon added.
‘I’ll take a portable radio with me,’ Jane said.
Cam shook his head. ‘They don’t work on the landings or inside flats as the concrete’s so thick. Teflon’s right, there’s no way you can go there on your own. Mind you, he’d be putting his neck on the line more than any of us down there if they knew he was Old Bill.’
She looked at Teflon. ‘Why would it be worse for you?’
‘There’s a lot of black criminals on the estate who see me as a traitor for joining the police.’
‘I’m happy to go with Jane,’ Cam said.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ Teflon said firmly.
‘What are you three planning?’ Kingston asked as he approached them.
‘Tennison was thinking of going down the Broadwater Farm on her own.’
‘Then she needs her head tested.’ Kingston looked at Jane. ‘Is it something to do with that action DCI Murphy gave you?’
Jane nodded. ‘Yes, the informant Miss Wilson lives on the estate.’
Kingston shook his head. ‘I was the DI at Tottenham before I came here and believe me it’s rare for anyone on the Broadwater to help the police. We tried to arrest a suspect for stabbing a police officer and they threw a full beer barrel down on the car from one of the walkways. We were lucky it landed on the bonnet and not the roof or it could have killed us.’
‘Did they get the people responsible?’ Jane asked.
‘No, the walkways are like rat runs and they all disappeared, and of course no one saw a thing.’
‘Murphy’s out of order if he knew where he was sending her and didn’t say to take backup,’ Teflon said darkly.
‘He may not have seen the address,’ Kingston suggested, but he didn’t sound convinced.
‘Is it OK if we go with Jane?’ Teflon asked Kingston.
‘I’m ordering you to go with her.’
Chapter Thirteen
The Colonel and Baxter parked up outside Frank Braun’s address in Tottenham. The large three-bedroom, 1930s-built, semi-detached house was on Mount Pleasant Road, a quiet residential road. The Colonel pointed out to Baxter that the upstairs bedroom curtains were closed, suggesting someone was in, then pressed the doorbell. After nearly a minute there was no reply, so he pressed it again and stepped back to see if the curtains moved.
‘They’re taking their time. Should I climb over the side fence and cover the back?’ Baxter asked.
The Colonel shook his head. ‘If this Braun bloke is involved in the robbery and made a false stolen vehicle claim he’ll front us out... Hang on, someone’s opening the curtain.’
A bleary-eyed, bare-chested man in his late thirties pulled back the curtain and opened the window.
‘If you’re selling something I’m not interested!’ he shouted.
‘You Frank Braun?’ the Colonel asked.
‘I might be — who are you?’
The Colonel held up his warrant card.
‘I’m DC Gorman and this is DC Baxter. We’d like to speak to you about the ’76 Mark 4 Cortina you reported stolen.’
‘You found it?’ Mr. Braun asked, looking pleased.
‘Yes, but I’d rather we talk about it inside,’ the Colonel replied.
Braun put on a dressing gown, went downstairs and let the two detectives in.
‘You from Tottenham CID?’ Braun asked as they followed him into the living room.
‘No, the Flying Squad,’ the Colonel replied.
Braun sighed. ‘Don’t tell me the car was used in a robbery?’
‘What made you jump to that conclusion?’ the Colonel asked.
‘Nothing, it just seems obvious as you lot investigate armed robberies.’
The Colonel nodded. ‘Very perceptive — you assumed right, Mr. Braun. Have you seen the news about the armed robbery on a security van in Leytonstone yesterday?’
‘No, I haven’t—’
The Colonel smirked. ‘And there was me thinking you might know all about it.’
Braun could tell they were taking the mickey.
‘Have you found my Cortina or not?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Four armed men used your car to rob a bank yesterday, then torched it to destroy any forensic evidence.’
‘Is the car a write-off?’ Braun asked.
‘It was totally burnt out, so you won’t be driving it again,’ the Colonel said.
Braun sighed. ‘There goes my no claims bonus.’
‘You don’t seem very upset that your motor’s a write-off,’ Baxter remarked.
He shrugged. ‘There’s not a lot I can do about it now, is there?’
‘How many keys do you have for the vehicle?’ the Colonel asked.
‘Just one... and no doubt you’d like to see it.’
He walked over to a side cabinet and, opening a drawer, he removed the key.
‘Lose the other one, did you?’ the Colonel asked.
Braun frowned as he handed the key to the Colonel.
‘As it happens, yes, and I haven’t bothered to get a replacement — though it’s clearly not worth doing so now, is it?’
‘How and where did you lose the key?’ Baxter asked.
‘I didn’t lose it. It was stolen—’
Baxter interrupted. ‘Of course it was — no doubt by a pickpocket and you didn’t feel a thing.’
Braun opened his eyes wide. ‘That’s right! Was that a wild guess or can you read minds?’
The Colonel took a step towards him. ‘It’s not in your interest to be flippant with us, Mr. Braun.’
Braun folded his arms. ‘Are you threatening to arrest me?’
‘We can continue this conversation here or down at the station — the choice is yours,’ Baxter said.
Braun glared at him. ‘If you’d had the decency to let me finish, I was going to tell you my wife was at the Coolbury nightclub with some friends when her handbag was stolen. And before you ask, she reported it to the police and gave them a list of everything that was in the bag — including the car keys.’
‘Where’s the Coolbury?’ Baxter asked as he got out his pocket notebook to write the location down.