Jane thought how surreal it felt to find herself dressed up to the nines and standing in the middle of a group of hardened criminals who hated the police and would have shot her without a second thought.
As the photographer took the pictures, Jane saw a maroon Jensen Interceptor, with a man and a woman in it, coming down the driveway towards the house. She felt her heart rate increase as the Jensen pulled up by the house. The man and woman got out and walked across the lawn towards the assembled guests. The man was carrying a large gift-wrapped box, and wearing the exact same coat as Rachel described — a knee-length brown camel hair coat with a black suede collar. He did look like Bela Lugosi, too. He was nearly six feet tall, in his early fifties, with dark slicked-back hair that she suspected was dyed. He wore a blue three-piece pinstripe suit and walked with an air of confidence. The woman with him wore a wedding ring and was about the same age, elegantly dressed in a figure-hugging red dress and hat.
When George saw him, he went straight over and shook hands. Tommy Ripley, Smith and O’Reilly also greeted him warmly with big smiles. The man handed George the present, and he asked one of the waiters to put it in his study next to the lounge.
Jane looked at the registration of the Jensen, HLT 354N, and memorized it by repeating it over in her mind using the mnemonic HiLT-35-4 Nick. If and when she got the opportunity, she’d try and take a photograph. She managed to take a few photographs of the guests as they gathered for the large group photo and, holding her camera down by her side, took a few risky potshots of the man in the camel hair coat.
The professional Master of Ceremonies, dressed in a red jacket and black trousers, called everyone into the marquee and announced that the meal was about to start. The receiving line consisted of the bride and groom and both sets of parents. Jane felt her stomach churn as she shook hands with George.
‘Lovely service, Mr. Ripley,’ she told him.
‘You the girl from the cafe?’ He smiled.
‘Yes, Carl invited me.’
He looked her up and down. ‘You’re far too good-looking for him, darlin’.’
Jane forced a smile and moved on.
She was about to look at the seating plan when Carl came over and said she was on the end of the top table with him. In some ways she felt relieved. At least it was better than sitting with Smith and O’Reilly.
Jane looked at the menu card. A prawn cocktail starter, a main course of chicken breast with vegetables and boiled potatoes, followed by Black Forest gateau, then coffee, cheese and biscuits. As she put the card down on the table, she felt an eerie sense of unease, as if someone was watching her. She scanned the marquee and saw the man in the camel hair coat sitting at a table in the middle of the room. He was looking at her with his head tilted to one side and tapping his lips with his left index finger.
‘Who’s the chap that owns the Jensen?’ she asked Carl casually.
‘Tony. He’s a nice guy. He’s in the same Masons’ lodge as George. Lovely car, isn’t it? Me and Smudge do the servicing and inspection. He let me drive it once. It’s fast but drinks petrol. I could ask him if he’d let me take you for a drive some time.’
‘That’d be nice.’
Jane was apprehensive about questioning Carl further about Tony. Knowing he was sitting at table 8, she thought she’d sneak a look at the seating plan by the marquee entrance to find out his surname.
‘I’m just going to the toilet.’
‘It’s in the hallway by the stairs,’ Carl told her.
She walked slowly, then stopped briefly by the seating plan, which had Mr. A. Nichols where Tony was sitting. She went to the toilet, then returning to the marquee she suddenly felt her left wrist being grabbed from behind. She spun around, thinking it was Carl, and found herself face to face with Tony, who tightened his grip on her wrist.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked with a nasty expression.
‘Let go, you’re hurting me,’ she said, trying not to show she was scared.
He let go of her hand and smiled. ‘Sorry, I thought we might have met before.’
‘I don’t think so, you must have got me mixed up with someone else.’
‘Maybe, but I never forget a pretty face,’ he said, walking off to the marquee.
Jane was shaking, desperately trying to think where or when they might have met. She went back into the house to phone Teflon and, seeing the study room door open, made sure no one was about and nipped in. She picked up the phone and noticed a long metal case tucked under the large oak writing desk and gift-wrapping paper in the bin. She called Chigwell Police Station, then asked to be put through to the canteen and Teflon answered.
‘I need you to pick me up outside the house in about half an hour.’
‘Will do. You all right?’
‘The man in the camel hair coat thinks he knows me.’
‘Come out right now, Jane,’ Teflon insisted.
‘I can’t. It would look suspicious.’
She put the phone down.
She was about to go back to the marquee when curiosity got the better of her. Realizing the metal case was the same size as the present Tony Nichols had handed George, she pulled it out from under the desk, put it on the top and opened it. Inside the silk-lined case were the barrel and stock of a Purdey shotgun. Jane got her camera out of her clutch bag and took a picture.
She returned to the marquee and saw Tony standing beside George at the top table, leaning down and whispering in his ear. As she walked to her seat, she tried not to look at them, but out of the corner of her eye she could see George glaring at her.
‘I thought you’d done a runner for a minute,’ Carl said. ‘George is about to start his father of the bride speech.’
‘I’m really sorry, Carl, but I’ve got to go. My stomach cramps are killing me and my period’s really heavy.’
‘You can have a lie-down in the house if you want.’
‘No thanks, I’m worried about staining my dress.’
‘I understand. I’ll call a cab for you.’
‘I did it while I was in the house. You stay for George’s speech and I’ll see myself out.’
‘When can I see you again, Jane?’ he asked, a little forlornly.
‘I’ll be in the cafe next week. I’ll see you then.’
She kissed him on the cheek, feeling ashamed.
It was still light as Jane walked along Gravel Lane. One second she was thinking about the Ripleys and Tony Nichols, and the next about Carl. Part of her was excited that she’d identified the infamous ‘Camel Hair Coat Man,’ but she wondered if in doing so she’d jeopardized the whole operation and the Ripley gang now suspected they were being watched. But worse than that was the thought of the danger she’d put Carl in if George suspected she was a police officer.
She saw Teflon approaching in the cab and waved him down. He stopped and she got in.
‘You look awful.’
‘I feel awful.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way home.’
The speeches finished and the DJ was setting up his equipment for the disco.
George smiled as he approached Carl.
‘All right, son? Where’s your girlfriend?’
‘She wasn’t feeling well and went home.’
‘That’s a shame. She seemed a lovely girl.’
‘She is. I really like her.’
‘I’d like to have a word with you in my office.’
‘What about?’
‘Your future. I know I’ve been a bit hard on you over the years, but you’re a good worker, Carl. I’d like to give you a little something to show my appreciation.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Really? What is it?’
‘Just a few quid to help you—’
‘Set up my own business?’
‘You can do what you like with the money — maybe get a flat of your own. I’ll see you in the study in a minute, after I’ve had a word with your uncle Tommy.’