‘I take it you’re the officer who got shot?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What’s your name, son?’
‘PC 642 Richard Beadle, sir. I’m a probationer attached to Edmonton Police Station.’
‘Well, you’re very lucky, Richard. From the looks of it the shotgun cartridges were loaded with rice — which is why you’re still alive. Can you tell me exactly what happened?’
‘I was going to the bank to collect some drachmas I’d ordered for a holiday in Corfu with my girlfriend. I’d just got off the bus and was crossing the road when I saw a masked man holding a sawn-off shotgun at the Securicor driver. I realized a robbery was happening and I thought he was on his own. He hadn’t seen me, so I ran up behind him and tried to get the gun off him.’ He paused to take a deep breath as the memory of the moment was making him close to tears. ‘The next thing I knew he’d knocked me to the ground and was pointing the gun at me. I closed my eyes and begged him not to shoot... Then there was a loud bang and I felt something thump hard into my stomach... The pain was unbelievable, and I thought I was going to die.’ A few tears rolled down his cheeks.
‘Did the man with the shotgun say anything?’
‘I don’t know, but when I opened my eyes I saw three masked men getting into a car, which drove off. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to stop the robbery, sir.’
Kingston put his hand on the officer’s shoulder.
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, son. What you did was very brave. On the positive side, you’re not dead and can still go to Corfu with your girlfriend.’
The officer smiled and wiped the tears from his face. Kingston said he would need him to make a written statement before he went on holiday. The officer said he wasn’t going on holiday until Saturday morning and lived at Lea Bridge Road section house, a police dormitory close to the station. Kingston told him he’d get a Flying Squad officer to take the statement from him on Friday morning at the section house.
‘I need to speak to some other witnesses. You take care and have a good holiday,’ Kingston said, then he stepped out of the ambulance.
The Colonel stayed behind to speak to the young officer.
‘Let me give you a bit of advice, son. While I admire your bravery, what you did was stupid. If that gun had been loaded with lead pellets it could have gone off when you tackled the suspect and members of the public may have been injured or killed. The money they stole is immaterial and not worth dying for — so next time think twice before putting your life and other people’s on the line.’
The officer’s lower lip trembled as he acknowledged the advice he’d been given. The Colonel got his wallet out and tucked a five-pound note into the officer’s trouser pocket.
‘That should get you pissed tonight and numb the pain. Make sure you get a doctor’s sick certificate, then you won’t have to use annual leave for your holiday.’ He winked.
The Colonel joined Kingston by the steps of the bank, where he was speaking to the senior SOCO, who had just arrived. They knew each other of old and Kingston told him about the robbery and what he knew so far. The SOCO said that on the face of it there weren’t many forensic opportunities at the bank scene, as the men wore gloves, and would no doubt dispose of their donkey jackets and overalls, but he’d do his best.
‘I’ll seize the outer clothing from the officer who got shot — there should be a cross-transference of fibers as he struggled with one of the robbers. Have you got someone doing exhibits who I can give the items I seize to?’ the SOCO asked.
‘Yeah, WDS Tennison. She’s a bit wet behind the ears when it comes to robbery scenes as she just started with us today,’ Kingston told him.
The SOCO was taken aback. ‘A woman on the Flying Squad? My God, this integration thing is getting out of hand.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Kingston said, and he went into the bank.
‘Who’d she sleep with to get on the squad?’ the SOCO asked when Kingston was out of earshot.
The Colonel shrugged. ‘Don’t know, but my money’s on Kingston shagging her within a week.’
The SOCO laughed. ‘He still got a roving eye then?’
‘More like a roving dick, which rules his brain when it comes to a bit of skirt with big tits.’
‘So where is this Tennison?’
The SOCO looked into the bank, eager to see what she looked like for himself.
‘Not here, she’s with Dabs Morgan at the crash site.’ He stepped towards the bank, then stopped. ‘We call her Treacle, and believe it or not she’s OK about it.’
‘Really?’ The SOCO was unsure.
‘Yeah, she seems to have a sense of humor, unlike most plonks.’
The Colonel walked off with a sly grin the SOCO didn’t see.
Chapter Four
Dabs photographed the spent cartridge cases where they’d fallen, at a distance and close up, then left Jane to gather and package them while he photographed the skid marks and blood trail before taking some swabs, which he gave to Jane. As instructed by Dabs, she put the four cartridge cases into small individual plastic containers, then separate exhibits bags. She did the same with the four blood swabs and made a detailed entry in the exhibits book of the items seized, writing a description, date, time and place found.
‘Will these be your exhibits or mine?’ Jane asked Dabs when he returned.
‘The squad detective always signs and numbers them as his.’ He realized his error. ‘Or hers... Sorry, I meant you need to do that as the exhibits officer.’
Jane smiled. ‘It’s all right, I know what you meant.’
She signed the exhibits bags and put JT/1, 2, 3 and 4 on the ones containing the cartridge cases, and JT/5 to JT/7 for the blood swabs, as the reference numbers.
‘If anyone gets arrested and goes to court, you’ll give evidence about where they were found and what forensics work they were submitted for,’ Dabs told her, and he looked back up the road towards the crashed police car. ‘We won’t know how many bullets are in Juliet 1 until we examine it under cover at the lab.’ He moved a few feet into the road. ‘The man with the handgun stood and fired about here, as the cartridge cases ejected to the right. We need to examine the parked cars on both sides of the road for any stray bullet holes, and check underneath them, as well as in the road, in case any bullets bounced off the police car.’
‘Shall I do one side, while you check the other?’ Jane asked.
‘It’s probably better we do it together — as they say, two heads are better than one.’
Jane appreciated he was politely saying he didn’t want to risk her missing a bullet hole or indentation in one of the cars. They started on the left-hand side and found nothing on, or under, the cars they looked at. They were having the same result on the opposite side of the road until they reached a silver two-door Ford Fiesta hatchback parked nearest to the crash site. Dabs pointed to the tarmac by the front of the vehicle.
‘See the pool of water there...? You notice anything unusual about it?’
Jane thought his remark odd.
‘No. What’s unusual about a pool of water after it’s been raining?’
‘It’s a rusty brown color, like you sometimes get from a leaky car radiator.’
She realized what he was thinking. ‘And if something’s leaking it must have a hole in it.’
‘Exactly, and in this case the hole might have been caused by a bullet.’
He put on some latex gloves, then took a picture of the Fiesta with the camera he was still carrying over his shoulder.
Jane looked closely at the front of the car.
‘I can’t see a bullet hole anywhere.’
He crouched down and put his right index finger between two of the grille slats.