Tennison

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘I want you to be present when I interview her. You need to take notes of what O’Duncie has to say and then type them up.’

  She nodded and he gave an open-handed gesture.

  ‘Have you got all that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What are you waiting for? Go on, hop it.’

  Jane went back to the incident room and slumped onto a chair. She was near to tears and bit her lip. Kath put an arm round her. ‘You all right, darlin’?’

  ‘I am so exhausted, Kath, I’ve been working flat out. Why do I get the feeling I’m just being used?’

  ‘Cheer up, I’ll be “on board” as from tomorrow, so I can help you,’ Kath said. She understood how Jane was feeling as she’d been through it herself, though she’d been much more savvy than Jane when she’d first joined.

  ‘I’ve just got so much to do, and he keeps on giving me more things. It’s typing up one report after another and then all the indexing that Sally didn’t do.’

  ‘Take it easy, luv. At least Bradfield’s trusting you to sit in with a possible witness, so although he may not say it something must have impressed him.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right because I’d rather be in the front office covering the counter and putting up with Harris than being the CID’s general dogsbody.’

  Kath cocked her head to one side. She gently hooked a stray strand of Jane’s hair away from her face.

  ‘No you wouldn’t. But just stay focused, do what you can, and if there’s a problem you have to learn how to handle it. What you mustn’t do is get tearful and act all stressed out. Don’t give ’em any ammunition. If you feel like havin’ a bit of a meltdown do it out of sight in the ladies’ locker room. You’ll see a few dents on the front of the roller towel – that’s where I’ve punched the hell out of it when I’ve been really pissed off. Now, you go and wash your face and then get ready to interview this woman – and take it from me, you’re doing just great.’

  ‘Thanks, Kath,’ Jane said and left the room.

  In the locker room she washed her hands and splashed cold water over her face. She crossed to the roller towel and dragged it down to pat herself dry. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw the dents, and then after a moment stepped back and threw a punch. It hurt like hell and she sucked her knuckles but she felt a great deal better.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  An overweight woman in her late thirties was waiting at the front counter. She wore a flowing multicoloured hippie dress, bangles on each wrist and big gold looped earrings. Her dark hair was braided into long dreadlocks and a headband encircled her forehead.

  ‘Anjali O’Duncie?’ Jane asked and the woman, who appeared anxious and nervous, nodded. Jane introduced herself and took Anjali into the small public interview room and fetched her a glass of water.

  Jane thought it best not to speak about Julie Ann without Bradfield being present, and in an effort to make pleasant conversation asked Anjali how she was.

  She shook her head and let out a big sigh. ‘Not been great recently, officer. I ended up having an operation in the very hospital I work in.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘I was in terrible discomfort before they discovered it was my appendix, and they only just caught it in time. It were about to burst and could have killed me. The pain was shocking! I was in terrible agony, worse than childbirth.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to see you’re better now,’ Jane said.

  ‘That’s not the half of it . . . I was recovering fine until the scar became infected and I was given these antibiotics which I then had an allergic reaction to. I came out in the worst rash you’ve ever seen – looked like a Dalmatian but with red spots and dark skin.’

  ‘I’ll go and see where DCI Bradfield is,’ Jane said and stood up.

  Anjali put her hand on Jane’s arm so she sat back down. ‘They were penicillin, you see, awful . . . I was in a terrible state, kept me in for another two weeks, agony, it was, all that time in hospital.’

  Jane wished she’d never started the conversation as Anjali couldn’t stop talking, going into great detail about her bad reaction, and repeating herself. Jane felt forced to listen without interruption simply because she couldn’t get a word in edgeways. Something struck Jane as rather strange – if O’Duncie was in hospital with appendicitis she’d have been on a different ward and not in the Drug Dependency Unit with Julie Ann.

  ‘Were you on the same ward as Julie Ann?’ Jane asked curiously.

  Anjali looked at Jane as if she was stupid. ‘You must be jokin’, of course I wasn’t. I didn’t have a drug problem. I’m no junkie, it was me damn appendix. I just told you, I had it taken out last year, and I’ve been back at work nearly three months now.’

  ‘Right, I see, sorry, I misunderstood you.’

  ‘Obviously I knew her, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, would I? Poor thing had been in and out of our clinic for weeks and I spent quite a bit of time counselling her.’

  ‘That must be hard work with drug addicts.’

  ‘I’m not a doctor or anything medically trained – I work for the clinic on a sort of social level. I mean we obviously have professionals dealing with medication as I’m not trained to do that either, but we have an area where they can have a cup of tea and biscuits.’

  Jane could sense something wasn’t quite right. ‘What does your job entail exactly?’

  ‘I look after the area, keep it tidy, counsel the addicts with a nice chat, a hot drink and biscuits.’

  Gradually Jane deduced that Anjali O’Duncie was basically a cleaner cum tea lady who had no training whatsoever in addict rehabilitation or counselling. It transpired she was paid a small hourly wage and would be there on a daily basis, but liked to sit and talk to some of the kids as it made her feel she was doing some good.

  ‘So how well did you know Julie Ann?’

  ‘I suppose I knew her quite well. I recognized her from the picture the detective had when he come to the hospital the second time and that’s why I said I’d come in here.

  ‘Terrible thing to have happened to her, but drug addicts do live dangerous lives.’

  ‘Was Julie Ann on methadone?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t handle any drugs meself. It’s all monitored and prescribed by the doctors. Some of the addicts are very strung-out when they come in and need the methadone as a substitute for heroin to calm down.’

  ‘Can I get you another glass of water, cup of tea?’ Jane asked.

  ‘A tea would be nice, two sugars, but I have an allergy to cow’s milk, brings me out—’

  ‘In a red rash.’ Jane smiled.

  ‘That’s right – do you get it as well?’

  Jane shook her head.

  She was making her way upstairs to the canteen when she came across Bradfield on the stairs. He stopped and ran his hand through his curly red hair making it stand up on end as he asked if O’Duncie had turned up.

  ‘You might find her a bit trying.’

  He frowned. ‘Why, have you been questioning her?’

  ‘I haven’t, sir, but she doesn’t stop talking, although I did try to stop her. I had her own personal medical history before she moved on to Julie Ann.’ Jane told him everything O’Duncie had said so far.

  ‘Well, looks like I won’t be long with her.’

  ‘I don’t think she works in any actual medical or counselling capacity at the hospital. I’d say she was just a cleaner or a tea lady.’

  ‘So it looks like she’s trying to big herself up and waste our time.’

  ‘Yes, could be. Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘Nope, I’ll go and talk to her.’

  Jane returned to the interview room with a cup of sugared black tea. O’Duncie was leaning on the table and repeating her appendix experience to Bradfield who was sitting opposite. He had a look of impatience on his face and gestured for Jane to sit down.

  She passed the tea to O’Duncie who peered into the cup, smiled and mad
e a slurping sound as she took a big sip.

  ‘Ahhh, that’s better. Dairy products play havoc with my stomach and give me diarrhoea, but this is just how I like it.’

  Jane sat to one side as he tapped his open notebook.

  ‘Julie Ann was missing for two weeks . . . ’

  ‘I know, but I didn’t see her at the Drug Dependency Unit and she didn’t turn up for appointments so I just thought she’d gone off the rails or was going to another hospital elsewhere. They do that, you know, get signed up at different hospitals in different names to get more methadone and just abuse the system. We try and monitor it, well, not me exactly, but one of the staff will try to make contact with other hospital drug units.’

  ‘Did she ever mention she was pregnant?’ Bradfield asked quietly.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know that. What did she have, a boy or a girl?’

  Jane felt Bradfield’s impatience and coughed as O’Duncie sat back in her chair.

  ‘She didn’t. The foetus was only twelve to fourteen weeks and died with Julie Ann when she was murdered.’

  O’Duncie looked horrified and close to tears. ‘I don’t know what to say . . . I really can’t believe it, I feel as . . . ’

  He glanced at her and lifted his hands to say he understood she was shocked and didn’t have to explain her emotions.

  ‘Miss O’Duncie, Julie Ann Collins was strangled, but she also suffered a severe beating a few days before her body was found. Can you recall anyone who visited, or came to the hospital with her, that you think we should know about?’

  ‘Did you say Collins? I thought her name was Maynard.’

  ‘She fed her drug habit through prostitution so she used a false name.’

  ‘That’s quite common, you know, Officer Bradfield. Anyways there was a lad called Eddie, her boyfriend, I think. They were often together, now let me think, what was his surname . . .?’

  ‘Phillips?’ Bradfield asked, getting impatient.

  ‘Yes, that’s him – thin, weedy little chap with acne. I think he stays with his grandmother, when he’s not stoned or injecting, that is. Him and Julie Ann were at the clinic together as in-patients originally. In fact that’s probably how they met, and then they would come together on day visits. I’d have a cup of tea and chat with them as we like to keep a sort of open house and I try and be helpful, you know, by talking to them. But I found it hard when I was feelin’ so ill meself with a terrible agonizing pain down me right side, which I knew wasn’t menstrual.’

  Bradfield closed his notebook and glanced at Jane. It was obviously going nowhere, and he’d had enough of listening to O’Duncie prattle on.

  ‘Thanks for coming in.’

  ‘I didn’t have much option, did I, as the police officers told me I had to come in as I wasn’t around when they first came to the clinic, I was having terrible pains again and—’

  Bradfield glanced at Jane and interrupted her. ‘WPC Tennison will take your full details for our records.’ He left the room.

  Jane started to take down Anjali O’Duncie’s details and home address. She slurped the rest of her tea before pushing the cup away. ‘I regret telling her off now. It was the last time I saw her, but she was naughty.’

  Jane looked at her. ‘What was naughty?’

  ‘I caught her in one of the doctors’ offices. Eddie was standing outside keeping lookout and I thought maybe she was after methadone, but she was using the phone. The door was open and I heard her speaking to someone, having a big row, shouting and swearing.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘I remember I was about to go home, so it would have been three o’clock, or maybe around four thirtyish. I mean, like tonight, I was there until I come in here.’

  ‘Was this recent? Can you recall what day it was?’

  ‘Erm, well, let me think . . .’ She paused for a few seconds. ‘At least two weeks before they found her murdered. I remember it because it was against the rules to be in that office, even I’m not allowed to use the doctors’ phones. They got a call box in reception but it’s always out of order.’

  ‘Do you remember who she was phoning?’

  ‘No, I don’t know who it was.’

  ‘Think hard, try and remember – every little detail is important.’

  There was a silence as O’Duncie closed her eyes and touched her forehead with her hand.

  ‘I’m sure I heard her asking for money. I think she said the name Paddy but whoever it was she swore at them and when she saw me she hung up. I told her she wasn’t allowed to use the doctors’ offices and she said sorry and just walked out.’

  ‘Did you report it to anyone at the hospital?’

  ‘No, I didn’t see any need to.’

  Jane hurried Miss O’Duncie out and then went in search of Bradfield. He was in his office with DS Spencer Gibbs and four other detectives, all playing cards and chain-smoking whilst drinking whisky and beer.

  ‘What do you want, Tennison? Can’t you see we’re busy?’ DS Gibbs said, a cigarette between his lips as he poured Bradfield a stiff Scotch.

  ‘Sir, just after you left O’Duncie recalled Julie Ann making a phone call in a doctor’s office to someone while Eddie Phillips was keeping watch outside in the corridor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was two weeks ago. She was a bit unsure but she thought she heard her say the name Paddy and something about money. Apparently she was very angry and was swearing and shouting.’

  He inhaled deeply, sipped his whisky, and let the smoke drift from his nose.

  ‘Is O’Duncie still here?’

  ‘No, sir, I let her go.’

  ‘Well, that’s no use to me right now, is it? Type up a report and leave it in an envelope for me and I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’m off duty in an hour, sir, but if you need me to visit the drug clinic this evening to check their phone records I can . . . ’

  He glared at her. ‘What? If I need you? What the fuck are you inferring, if I need you? Jesus Christ, I’ve had it up to here today and I’m trying to relax now, so go home . . . hop it.’

  Having typed up the O’Duncie interview report Jane collected her belongings from the incident room and went to the ladies’ locker room. There was now a printed notice: ‘LADIES ONLY – NO MEN ALLOWED!’ on the door. Having washed her hands she was about to dry them when she noticed a new dent in the metal roller towel. She smiled realizing someone must have upset Kath. She suddenly heard Bradfield’s voice in the corridor outside.

  ‘Listen, Spence, I want that screwball junkie Eddie Phillips brought back in and given a rough time. He must know something about that phone call, or at least who it was made to. Get the night shift out there looking for him.’

  ‘If that’s what you want. Wearing out the carpet though, isn’t he?’ Gibbs said.

  Jane dried her hands, still listening, easing down the roller towel.

  ‘Get someone down to that hospital tonight and see if they keep phone records for calls made. I’m interested in the day she was last seen and three days prior. O’Duncie’s a bit dim, and I doubt she can tell the bloody time, so I want every call checked from between 1 to 6 p.m. for that period.’

  ‘No problem, guv, and it shouldn’t be difficult to link a number to this Paddy guy . . . if he’s not ex-directory, that is.’

  ‘I feel like I’m losing the plot, Spence, and I’m totally knackered. That young Tennison is as sharp as a tack, maybe too sharp for her own good.’

  ‘Me and the lads are going for a few pints down the Warburton Arms and then for a curry in Brick Lane. Why don’t you join us?’

  ‘I might take you up on that.’

  ‘Have you seen this?’

  ‘What?’

  Gibbs pointed to the notice on the locker-room door. ‘Any money it’s Kath Morgan having a moan – “ladies only” I’m taking that down . . . Better still, I’m gonna take a crap in there and not flush it.’

  Bradfield laughed. ‘Com
e on, let’s finish the card game and get down to the pub.’

  Jane sighed with relief as she heard them leave. She waited a few more moments before she eased the door open to make sure the coast was clear.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jane was in work early the next morning, in order to try and clear the investigation ‘IN’ tray before the office meeting at 10 a.m. She checked her own tray in the PCs’ writing room and was surprised to see the Jaguar brochures there. There was a note saying that the sales garage receptionist had dropped them off on her way home, rather than posting them. Jane left the brochures, along with the reports about the Jaguar cars and the flying squad information, on DCI Bradfield’s desk and managed to get a big pile of indexing done before he walked in at eight thirty.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ she said politely.

  ‘No, Tennison, it’s not a good morning,’ he replied gruffly.