The Dirty Dozen

by Lynda La Plante

  Jane sat opposite Murphy as he read her pocket notebook and Rachel Wilson’s notes. She could feel the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. At first, he’d accused Katie of lying, but when Katie said she would report him to the Commander in charge of the Flying Squad, and back Jane up, he quickly capitulated, though he was adamant he’d never told Katie to break into Jane’s desk drawer. He didn’t apologize to Jane, but did agree to listen to her about the Wilson sisters and the possible suspects in the robbery, and read her notes with an open mind.

  Murphy turned another page of Jane’s notes, then opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the bottle of whisky and two glasses. He poured some whisky into one glass, picked it up and took a sip.

  “This is good stuff.”

  “My notes or the Scotch, sir?”

  “Both. Do you ever take a wee dram?”

  “Now and again.”

  He poured her a glass and slid it across the table. She picked it up and took a sip.

  “Cheers.”

  “I wish the rest of the team made notes that are as detailed and thorough as this.”

  She wondered if he was being sincere, or just embarrassed about his underhandedness being exposed and trying to get back into her good books.

  “Do you feel what I’ve uncovered so far merits further investigation?”

  “I might. Have you discussed these notes with anyone else on the team?” he asked, handing them back to her.

  She hesitated for a second. “No, not yet.”

  She didn’t want to land Kingston in it, despite his behavior in the pub.

  He nodded. “Fine. I’ve got a few more questions—then I’ll decide the appropriate course of action.”

  He topped up both their glasses.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How many cops does it take to throw a prisoner down the stairs?” the Colonel asked, grinning at the others seated around the table.

  “None, he fell,” Cam answered, and everyone laughed even though they’d heard the joke before.

  Stanley put his hand in the whip glass and removed some pound notes.

  “Same again, lads?”

  There were nods and yeses around the table.

  “Stewart, phone call for you!” the landlord shouted from behind the bar.

  The Colonel tutted. “That’ll be your missus wondering what you’re up to.”

  Kingston shook his head drunkenly. “She don’t know the . . . number for the . . . for the pub—”

  “Must be Katie then,” the Colonel teased.

  “I frigging hope not . . . Shee who it is while you’re ordering the drinks, Stanley. And tell ’em I’m not here.”

  Stanley went to the bar.

  “Who’s calling Stewart?” he asked.

  The landlord handed him the phone and said, “Bill Murphy.”

  After a brief conversation, Stanley quickly came back to the table.

  “Where’s the bloody drinks?” Kingston asked.

  “It was Murphy. He wants us all back in the office right away.”

  Bax frowned. “Bloody hell, we’ve had three pints each. He’ll go apeshit.”

  Kingston laughed. “Three, is that all—? Then why do I feel pished?”

  “Cause you’ve been knocking back the whiskys as well,” Stanley said.

  “We all booked off duty before going on the piss, so we’re not here in job time,” the Colonel chipped in.

  “Then let’s have one for the road,” Kingston said, downing the rest of his beer.

  Stanley shook his head. “Murphy sounded in a bad mood—I think we should go now.”

  “You’re right. Get a pint of water and two Underbergs for Stu, then help me put him in my car,” the Colonel said, pulling Kingston up from his chair.

  Jane was at her desk typing up her report when the Colonel, Teflon, Stanley, Cam and Bax returned from the pub.

  “What’s happening, Jane?” Stanley asked.

  “I don’t know. Murphy asked me where you all were. He wants an office meeting.”

  “Well, thanks for spoiling our evening by telling him,” the Colonel moaned.

  “My pleasure.” She grinned.

  “Has he called everyone in?”

  “Just you lot and Dabs, as far as I know.”

  “It must be something big if he’s brought Dabs in as well,” Teflon remarked.

  “Has Murphy had a reliable tip-off about the Leytonstone robbery?” Baxter asked her.

  “Could be.” She shrugged. “He’s in his office making some calls. I guess we’ll find out when he’s finished. Where’s Kingston?”

  “In the ladies’ loo spewing up.” The Colonel grinned, but Jane didn’t rise to the bait.

  Teflon flicked the kettle on. “I think we’d better get some coffee down us in case we have to go out nicking people tonight.”

  “Make Kingston’s strong and black,” Stanley told him.

  A pale-looking Kingston staggered in, then put a hand to his mouth, turned around sharply and headed back to the toilet.

  Stanley sighed. “He’s never been able to hold his drink. I’ll go and see how he is.”

  “If he’s made a mess in the ladies’, make sure you clean it up,” Jane said.

  “You want a hot drink, Jane?” Teflon asked.

  “No thanks.”

  She pulled her finished report out of the typewriter.

  Baxter looked up as Stanley walked back in. “How is he?”

  “He’s still drunk, but much better than he was in the pub—said he reckoned some scampi he ate was off.”

  Baxter shook his head. “Yeah, right.”

  When Kingston came back he’d washed his face and combed his hair. He looked a bit better. Teflon handed him a coffee and he walked a little unsteadily to the photocopier, spilling some of his coffee along the way.

  “About earlier . . . I’m really sorry and I can assure you it won’t happen again,” Kingston said, making an effort not to slur his words.

  “I hope not,” she replied without looking at him.

  “Can we put it behind us and move on?”

  “I already have.”

  He looked surprised. “Really?”

  “I don’t bear grudges.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. What are you copying?”

  “My report about the Wilson sisters and the men in the cafe.”

  “You going to show it to Murphy?”

  “Yes.”

  “I really think you should wait until Monday, Jane, especially if he’s called us in because he’s got some good suspects in the frame.”

  “He has.”

  She picked up the copies of her report and took them to Murphy’s office.

  “What’s she up to?” the Colonel asked Kingston.

  “I don’t know, but I think Murphy might be about to lay into her.”

  “Good, I hope he does it in here so we can all enjoy the moment.” The Colonel smirked.

  A few minutes later Murphy came out of his office with Jane at his heels.

  “Right, gather round and listen up.”

  The room went silent with anticipation.

  “Before I brief you on the plan of action, I want you all to read WDS Tennison’s report.”

  He nodded to Jane and she handed them out.

  “Is Katie coming in?” Baxter asked.

  Murphy shook his head. “Unfortunately, she fell over when she got home and cut her lip on a sideboard so she’s not feeling too good.”

  “Sounds like a lame excuse for I can’t be bothered,” Baxter muttered.

  Kingston noticed that Katie’s desk was uncharacteristically disheveled, but it was the bloodstained tissues in the bin beside the desk that really made him wonder what had happened while they were all in the pub. As Jane handed out her report, the rest of the team exchanged bemused glances.

  “Stop gawping and get reading!” Murphy barked. He looked at Kingston. “A quick word in my office, please.”

  A
s Kingston followed Murphy out, the Colonel dropped Jane’s report on the table and flicked the kettle on. Jane went over and stood beside him.

  “Are you not going to read my report?”

  He didn’t look at her. “What for? Murphy’s just toying with you—he won’t act on anything you’ve told him.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Do you really think he’d call everyone in at such short notice if he was playing games? It’s up to you whether or not you read it, but you might look stupid if you don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Murphy closed his office door then sat behind his desk.

  “You look like shit.”

  Kingston sighed. “I feel like it, but I’ll survive—”

  “Hair of the dog?” Murphy offered, opening his desk drawer.

  “No thanks. What’s Tennison’s report about?”

  Murphy closed the drawer. “Don’t play the fool with me, Stewart. It’s obvious she’s already briefed you on it—even though she said she hasn’t.”

  “I haven’t read her report—”

  “That’s because she’s only just typed it up—but she inadvertently let slip she’d spoken to you about it.”

  “How?”

  “Some of her deductions, and the further enquiries she wanted to make, were too shrewd for someone who’s only been on the squad for two days—and only you and Katie were in the office when I left.”

  “I never meant to go behind your back. I just wanted her to try and get more evidence over the weekend, then speak to you.”

  “That’s fair enough. She’s done a good job as it is, and given us something positive to work on—which is more than the rest of the team so far.”

  “What’s made you change your mind about her?”

  “I haven’t. I still don’t want any women on the squad, but right now I need her as the go-between with the Wilson women. If their information turns up trumps, and we identify the blaggers with enough evidence to charge them, it’s a good result.”

  Kingston suspected Murphy meant a good result for himself and not the team.

  “Did Tennison find out you told Katie to keep an eye on her?”

  Murphy nodded.

  Kingston looked surprised. “Katie grassed you up?”

  “She didn’t have a lot of choice after Tennison punched her in the mouth.”

  “Bloody hell. Tennison beat her up to get the truth out of her?”

  “Not exactly—Katie lost her rag with Tennison and went for her and she just defended herself.”

  Kingston now realized where the bloodstained tissues had come from.

  “What made Katie go for her?”

  Murphy shrugged. “I don’t know, neither of them would tell me. But I’ve got a feeling it might have had something to do with your . . . inclinations towards Tennison.”

  “I can assure you there’s nothing going on with Tennison. She’s made it quite clear she doesn’t mix business and pleasure—”

  Murphy sighed. “You need to learn to keep your dick in your trousers, Stewart. Now might also be a good time to break it off with Katie, before you get your fingers burnt—or something else cut off. You’d be a fool to ruin your career and your marriage for the likes of her or Tennison.”

  “Will you be getting rid of Katie?” Kingston asked hopefully.

  “No, she’s good at her job and I don’t have the time to go looking for a replacement. Right, let’s get on with the meeting,” he said, standing up.

  Kingston reckoned that Jane must have confronted Murphy about Katie spying on her, and that’s why he was now playing nice—to stop any formal complaint or internal investigation. But it was clear he was only using her. As soon as they’d nabbed the men responsible for the Securicor van robbery, he’d find a way to get rid of her.

  Murphy looked around the office.

  “Anyone not finished reading Sergeant Tennison’s informative and detailed report?” he asked as he entered the room with Kingston.

  “Do you think Murphy fell over and banged his head?” Cam whispered to the Colonel.

  “Either that or he wants to shag her.”

  “Might be worth having twenty quid on him as well.” Cam smiled.

  “Something you two want to share with the rest of us?” Murphy asked with a dark look.

  Cam shook his head, but the Colonel had something to say.

  “It beggars belief the men we’re looking for would openly discuss their plans in a cafe—and the stuff about the envelope, and what might or might not be in it, that’s all conjecture. Rachel Wilson could be making the whole thing up.”

  Jane suspected he’d only skimmed her report.

  “She could, but I don’t believe she is. Rachel’s deaf, so can’t hear what’s being said or going on around her, but the cafe was busy on both the Monday and Friday, so it would have been noisy—the perfect cover for discussing the robbery.”

  “But the fact is you can’t be sure it was a robbery they were talking about—even more so as your star witness couldn’t actually hear them,” the Colonel retorted.

  Jane just shook her head.

  “That’s enough, Colonel, I don’t want to hear any more negative talk. Let me make it clear: we will be taking further action based on what Tennison has uncovered so far. Firstly, do any of the suspects’ names or descriptions mentioned in the report ring a bell with any of you?”

  There was a brief silence in the room, until Stanley spoke up.

  “We could run it by our informants now we have some names and descriptions.”

  Murphy shook his head. “I don’t want to risk our suspects being tipped off.”

  Kingston thought differently. “The Colonel’s informant knows a lot of old school blaggers and he’s given us some good tip-offs in the past.”

  “I was going to see him first thing Sunday morning, Guv,” the Colonel added.

  Murphy thought about it. “OK, don’t be up front with any names. Just see what you can tease out of him. And take Tennison with you.”

  The Colonel frowned. “Do I have to, Guv?”

  Here we go again, Jane thought to herself.

  “Yes. She’s never dealt with any informants on these types of investigations. She needs to watch, listen and learn from someone as experienced as you.”

  The Colonel wasn’t happy, but knew it was pointless arguing with Murphy.

  “Anyone else got anything positive to add?” Murphy asked.

  Baxter put his hand up.

  “Jane’s report mentions M1 might be a car dealer. Frank Braun, who me and the Colonel interviewed this morning, owns the Cortina that was used as the getaway car in the robbery, but he also has a 3 series BMW injection and a nice three-bedroom semi in Tottenham.”

  Murphy and the others exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Forgive me for not being on the same wavelength as you, Bax—but what’s all that got to do with anything?” Stanley asked.

  Baxter sighed. “I thought it was obvious. Braun’s a fireman and seems to be living well above his means. If M1 is a car dealer maybe he gave Braun the BMW, or sold it to him cheap for letting them use his Cortina and reporting it stolen.”

  Stanley nodded. “OK. Good point, Bax.”

  The Colonel had more to add.

  “The PNC check we ran on Braun turned up negative and the crime report at Tottenham tied up with what he told us, but I still think there’s more to him than meets the eye. He said he knew Paul Lawrence, the lab liaison DS, and was working a fire scene with him when the car was stolen.”

  “Check it out with Lawrence, then revisit Braun and ask him where he bought the BMW and the Cortina—”

  “I know DS Lawrence. I can call him and ask about Braun,” Jane suggested.

  He looked at the office clock. It was nearly ten o’clock.

  “OK. It’s late but give him a call and tell him it’s urgent.”

  As the meeting continued Jane rummaged in her bag for her address book, then used the phone on Kat
ie’s desk. Lawrence answered after a couple of rings.

  Murphy looked at Dabs. “How are we doing on the forensics?”

  “Ballistics confirmed the rifling on the bullet and firing pin marks on the cartridge cases showed they were all fired from the same handgun, which they reckon was probably a nine-millimeter Luger. Also, the blood we recovered at the crash scene and on the burnt-out Cortina was B negative, which is only found in about one point five percent of the population.”

  “What was the origin of the bullets from the casing stamp?” the Colonel asked.

  “Germany, World War Two issue—like you said.”

  Jane finished her conversation with Lawrence and returned to the group.

  “Sergeant Lawrence has known Frank Braun for about five years, and he’s socialized with him on a number of occasions. In his opinion Braun is honest and trustworthy, and he knows he isn’t living beyond his means. He won nearly thirty thousand on the pools a couple of years ago.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s straight—even people with plenty of money get greedy for more.” The Colonel shrugged.

  “As I said, go back and ask about the cars. Anything else to add, Colonel?” Murphy asked.

  “There’s something in Tennison’s report that might be wrong, or possibly misconstrued—”

  Murphy frowned. “I said I didn’t want any negative input.”

  “It’s not negative, sir, it’s just a thought.” He looked at the report. “When M1 said, ‘You cover the front with Webley,’ it might not be another man he’s referring to. Webley and Scott make handguns and shotguns—weapons that are commonly referred to as a Webley. It could be that M1 was telling M2, or Tommy as we think he’s called, to cover the front with a shotgun. If Webley isn’t a person, that means one man was at the front of the van with a shotgun—as all our witnesses reported.”

  “That’s a reasonable assumption,” Kingston replied, and Murphy nodded.

  Jane was surprised the Colonel had read her report, but knew he liked to show off when it came to his knowledge of firearms.

  “On that basis, she may have been wrong with other names,” Cam suggested.

  “Rachel was adamant about Tommy but said she could be wrong about Judge,” Jane admitted.

  Murphy nodded. “You’ll all be working the weekend to see what else we can find out about these people. To that end I’ve paired you up where necessary and allocated the further enquiries I want made, which Sergeant Tennison will now brief you on.”