‘Can you describe it?’
Rachel held her hands in a fist shape and jabbed them back and forth.
‘A boxer?’ Jane asked. Rachel pointed to her hand, then made out she was putting something on it. ‘A boxing glove?’
Rachel shook her head and held two fingers up.
‘A pair of boxing gloves?’
She nodded with a smile and held her thumb up.
‘Thanks, they’re very good descriptions. What about the younger man you said sometimes joins them — can you describe him in a bit more detail?’ Rachel wrote:
Same height as M2, blue eyes, wavy blond hair down to his shoulders, slim and very good looking. Usually wears a T-shirt and jeans or a polo shirt with a little emblem of a crocodile or man on a horse on the left breast.
‘I must say, you’re very observant.’
‘She is when he goes to the cafe. She’s told me about him before and I think she fancies him,’ Emma said, and her sister glared at her.
‘He sounds a bit like M2 — do they look like they may be related?’
Rachel shrugged and signed they might be, and that she’d seen M1 give the younger man a large bundle of money on one occasion.
‘How big was the bundle?’
She held her fingers about six inches apart and signed that she thought they were twenty-pound notes as they were purple.
‘That’s quite a big sum of money by the sounds of it. Have you noticed if any of these men smoke?’
Rachel signed that M2 smoked cigarettes and M1 smoked a big cigar, and she didn’t like the smell as it put her off her food.
‘This may sound like a silly question, but can you tell people’s accents from the way their mouths move?’
Emma answered for Rachel. ‘Accents are really hard for lip-readers to detect, but sometimes they can get an idea from the words and phrases people use.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Someone from Liverpool might say hozzy instead of hospital, but I think it’s safe to say from what my sister told us that M1 had a London accent.’
Rachel nodded in agreement.
‘I know you’re not very good on vehicles, Rachel, but have you ever seen M1, M2 or the young man you mentioned in a car?’
Rachel signed that the only one she’d ever seen in a vehicle was the good-looking young man, when he was parking outside the cafe in a big white van. Jane put her notebook and pen in her bag and told Rachel she’d like to take the notes she had made back to the Flying Squad office as evidence, in case it was related to her investigation.
‘Can you tell us anything about the robbery you’re investigating?’ Emma asked.
‘Yes. It’s been in the papers and happened yesterday in Leytonstone High Road. A Securicor van was robbed at gunpoint and a police car crashed into a house while chasing the suspects,’ Jane said, deliberately not mentioning that guns had been fired.
‘And do you think the men in the cafe might be responsible?’ Emma asked.
‘I can’t say at this stage, but I can tell you that some of the things Rachel said are of interest to the investigation. Like I said earlier, there’s no need for either of you to be worried. Believe me, you did the right thing by telling us — police work would be much easier if there were more upstanding citizens like you two. If there are any developments, I’ll let you know. I may need Rachel to look through some police mugshot albums of known criminals at Scotland Yard. Would you be willing to do that, Rachel?’
Jane picked up the way Rachel nervously signed to her sister and there was a moment before Emma replied.
‘Of course. It’s the right thing to do,’ Emma said, looking at her sister.
Chapter Sixteen
Jane decided to go to Tottenham Police Station and speak to the collator, a uniform PC who maintained records of local criminals and gleaned information from various sources, including uniform beat officers, the CID and the public. She knew that station collators had usually worked at least twenty years on a division, and often provided invaluable information to serious crime investigations. It was late afternoon and the collator was putting a coat on as Jane entered his office.
‘Hi, I’m WDS Tennison from the Flying Squad. I’m following up on some information I was given and wondered if you could help me.’
‘I’m sorry, Sarge, but I’m just about to go off duty. I’ve got a half four appointment at my doctor’s and I’m running late as it is. You’re welcome to look through the index cards, or leave the details of anyone you’re interested in and I’ll get back to you on Monday with the results.’
Jane wondered if she could persuade him to stay a while.
‘I’m investigating the armed robbery in Leytonstone yesterday morning...’
He stopped and turned around.
‘The one where the officers got shot and crashed the car?’
‘Yes.’
‘I heard about it and read the teleprinter message — bloody miracle no one was killed. I’m PC Kevin Bottomley. How can I help you?’ He took his coat off.
‘I’m following up on some information I was given about a couple of possible suspects, IC1 males who use the Bluebird cafe in Bruce Grove,’ Jane said, referring to the police code for white people.
‘I know the Bluebird — I used to pop in there regularly for a cuppa when I was the home beat officer.’
‘I was told the owner is called Nick.’
‘That’s right. He’s owned the cafe for donkey’s years. Runs it with his wife, but I heard she’s not been very well recently — emphysema.’
‘Has he got a criminal record?’
Bottomley laughed. ‘No, he’s as honest as they come, though he does get a few criminals in his place now and again — but that’s not unusual for a cafe in Tottenham. When I was the home beat, he put some names my way about a gang who were nicking shedloads of fresh meat from an abattoir and trying to sell it on to him. They were nicked thanks to him. I know he’s helped a few other officers out with information as well. What are your suspects’ names?’
He picked up a pen and opened his A4 notebook.
‘Apart from the name Tommy, I don’t know if the others are Christian or surnames — but the descriptions I was given are quite good.’ Jane got out her pocket notebook. ‘I must tell you, though, my informant is obviously worried about repercussions.’
‘I totally understand. I don’t need to know anything about your informant, and what you tell me will remain between the two of us.’
She handed Bottomley the descriptions Rachel had written.
‘M2 may be the one called Tommy.’
He read them and handed Jane back the piece of notepaper.
‘There’s no one who springs to mind instantly among the armed robbers who live on the division. To be honest, there’s only about ten I know of, and at least half of them are currently in prison. What I can do for you is look through my card index trays and compile a list of criminals in the same age bracket with similar features. But it will take me a day or so and I’m off over the weekend.’
‘That would be very helpful, thank you.’
‘Is there anything else you know about them — what sort of work they do or cars they drive?’
‘Nothing about cars, but there’s a possibility M2 may be connected to the Star Bingo Hall or Grove Snooker Hall opposite the cafe.’
‘Oh yes, the snooker hall opened about six months ago.’
Jane nodded. ‘From what I was told, that ties in with the time the two men started using the cafe.’
‘The bingo hall opens at about midday, and from the description of your M2 I’d say he’s much more likely to be connected to the snooker hall. Did you notice if the building had an alarm on it?’
‘I didn’t look, to be honest.’