“No, pass on all the details to Tottenham CID and they can see what he’s up to. Our priority now is the Ripley brothers and the other Securicor van robbery suspects.”
“Yes, sir. Rachel did these drawings of the Ripley brothers and the suspect named Carl.”
She got them out of her bag and handed them to Murphy.
“Bloody hell, these are detailed. Make a load of copies for the surveillance operation.”
He handed them back to her.
“Are you happy for Rachel to continue using the Bluebird cafe?” she asked.
“Yes, I want her to continue lip-reading what our suspects say, then report back to you.”
“Will you be using her as a prosecution witness if we get to trial?” Teflon asked, knowing it was a concern for Jane.
“Not if I can help it. She’s a reliable source of information, but I don’t want her facing some obnoxious defense barrister who’s going to attack her honesty. I’ve called the squad back in for a meeting about the surveillance operation, so let me know when everyone’s in.”
Jane and Teflon turned to leave.
“One other thing, Tennison.”
She turned, steeling herself for another rebuke.
“I want you working undercover in the Bluebird from tomorrow, OK?”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll get my old waitress uniform out of the wardrobe.” She smiled.
“Don’t go overboard. Now go get that Jones report done.”
As she walked back into the office, Cam called out to her.
“A DS Boon from West End Central called this morning while you were out.”
“Did he leave a message?”
“Yeah, he just said that the complainant in a case you were interested in withdrew their allegation and there’ll be no further action against the suspect.”
“Thanks, Cam,” Jane said, suppressing her delight.
She got straight on the phone and Pam answered.
“Have you heard the good news?”
“Yes, DS Boon called Tony. The woman changed her mind and said she didn’t want to press charges or give evidence.”
“Tony’s learned a lesson, Pam—albeit the hard way. How’s it going between you?”
“We’re getting there, and we won’t be breaking up.”
“I’m pleased for you both. I’ve got to go as I’m in the office.”
She ended the call and phoned Nick at the Bluebird cafe. She was relieved to find he was still happy for her to work as a waitress. She asked if she should wear a waitress’ outfit and he laughed, telling her it wasn’t the Ritz. She should just wear jeans and a T-shirt, and he would give her an apron.
She then went to speak to Cam, who was sitting at Katie’s desk doing some of her paperwork.
“I was just wondering if that PC you spoke to at Wood Green about Mehmet Osman mentioned anything about his brother Asil?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Emma Wilson said he was involved in her father’s criminal activities before going back to Cyprus, but he’s come back to London claiming to be a successful fruit exporter.”
“Drugs, more like. I’ll ring the PC and see what I can dig up.”
“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”
“Looks like I’m going to be stuck driving Katie’s desk for a while. She’s gone sick.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Apparently she had a big bust-up with her boyfriend over Kingston. I reckon she’s too embarrassed to come in.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is Kingston in his office?”
“He’s been in it all day—looks like he’s spent the night there.”
“Does he know about Fiona Simpson’s death?”
Cam nodded. “I told him after Teflon called it in.”
“How’d he take it?”
“He seemed quite shocked. He was at the pub yesterday evening talking to her about going to the Yard.”
“He told you he was at the pub?”
“Yes, why?”
“We were trying to find out who else was working behind the bar, so he might know.”
Jane went to her desk and sat down. She started typing her report, then stopped.
“It’s now or never,” she said to herself, getting up.
She knocked on Kingston’s office door and put her head around.
“I just wanted to talk to you about Fiona Simpson.”
“Sure, come in. I heard you and Teflon found her body.”
“Yes. Paul Lawrence is examining the scene and arranging a post mortem for this afternoon.”
“Does he think it’s suspicious?”
“Too early to say. There were no signs of a struggle at the pub, so she either fell or was pushed down the cellar stairs, probably after changing a barrel. Cam said you were there last night, about her visiting albums.”
“Yeah, she was keen to do it.”
“Do you know who was working behind the bar with her?”
“There was just one other girl while I was there. I think her name was Sarah, but Fiona let her go about half ten as the pub was so quiet.”
She thought about asking Kingston what time he left, but didn’t want to appear over-inquisitive.
“Lawrence thinks she died around midnight.”
“Then she must have closed up and been on her own.”
“Or one of our suspects hid in the pub waiting for everyone to leave.”
“I left just before closing time and there was only about five people still there. As I recall two of them were young guys playing darts in the saloon bar, and the other three were a group of old boys in their fifties—none of whom looked like our suspects.”
“I’m probably letting my imagination run away with me,” she said nervously, still unsure about mentioning Betty.
He tilted his head as he looked at her. “What is it you’re not telling me, Jane?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Do you know about Katie’s boyfriend calling my wife?”
Jane sighed. “Yes.”
“Well, if that’s what you’re worried about, I’ve spoken to Katie and she didn’t tell him about the fight with you.”
“Her boyfriend should have spoken to you. What he did was a cheap form of revenge.”
“Maybe, but I doubt Katie did much to try and stop him.”
“Does Murphy know what happened?”
“Yes, I told him first thing this morning. He wasn’t exactly pleased, but he was even more pissed off with you about speaking to Abby Jones.”
“He gave me and Teflon a pocket notebook caution.”
“You were lucky—if you’d gone there on your own, he would have served you with a 163 disciplinary action. Basically, Teflon saved your bacon.”
Jane couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I spoke to an elderly woman this morning who was walking past the getaway car before the robbery. She said the driver opened the door and nearly knocked her for six. She saw his face and from her description I believe it’s our suspect Graham Smith.”
Kingston leaned back in his chair and laughed.
“For fuck’s sake, is that what’s bothering you?”
She frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny. Betty said you never interviewed her, but you told me you did, and that she was an unreliable witness. As far as I can see she’s as bright as a button and the only identification witness we’ve got, now Simpson’s dead and Abby Jones won’t help us.”
“Fiona Simpson saw what happened from the pub window, so she told me about Betty.”
“Then why didn’t you mention it in any of the meetings?”
“Simpson asked me not to use Betty as a witness because she’s elderly and recently lost her husband. I agreed not to unless it was absolutely necessary, so I kept her name out of my report.”
She looked at him uncertainly. “Betty was a
damant that neither she or Fiona Simpson told anyone they saw the driver’s face—”
He pointed his finger at her. “Whoa! Stop right there before you dig a big hole for yourself. I’ll give you ten out of ten for tenacity, but you’re way off base if you think I or anyone else on this squad is a leak or has anything to do with Simpson’s death.”
“I never said that.”
“No, but you’re insinuating it. For your information I told Murphy about Betty straight after I first spoke to Simpson. He agreed with me about keeping her out of it—if you don’t believe me go and ask him.”
Jane was taken aback. “I’m sorry—”
“Look, I was shocked to discover Fiona Simpson was dead—and of course it’s crossed my mind that it might be connected to our investigation—but I’m on the fence until we get the post mortem result and Lawrence finishes examining the scene.”
“I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last—but at least you were up front with me.”
Jane felt a sense of relief, mixed with shame, that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“I heard the money I gave the Colonel was well spent,” he said.
“Sorry, what are you talking about?”
“The money from the informants’ fund for his snout.”
“Yeah, looks like Gentleman Jim was talking about Aidan O’Reilly.”
She was now certain the Colonel had stolen a ten-pound note.
There was a knock on the door and Cam looked in.
“Guv is ready to start the meeting.”
Jane was not the only one eager to hear what Murphy had to say.
“As you all know, our witness Fiona Simpson is dead. Her post mortem is scheduled for three p.m., but whatever the outcome, Division will deal with the investigation and keep us informed. If her death is deemed to be suspicious, only me or DI Kingston will speak to Division, as there is obviously sensitive information that I don’t want disclosed at this time. Before I speak about the surveillance operation, has anyone anything further to add about our suspects?”
The Colonel raised his hand.
“DI Kingston told me about your snout’s information—it looks promising, but we need more,” said Murphy.
“He’s working on it. I also got an address from Companies House for George Ripley—”
“How’d you get that on a Sunday?” Murphy interrupted.
“You don’t want to know, Guv.”
“I do, Colonel.” He frowned.
“I told the security guard I was Commander Drury from Scotland Yard and needed to check some files urgently.”
“Drury’s in prison,” Stanley said.
“Then he won’t know I used his name, will he?” The Colonel grinned.
“George Ripley’s got a big house in Gravel Lane, Chigwell, called Farthings,” he continued. “Which is ironic as a farthing was worth a quarter of a penny. We did a drive-by recce and the house has big iron gates and a high wall at the front with a long gravel driveway. There’s woodland at the back and a field opposite, so the only way you can do surveillance on the place is in an observation van, but it’s a country lane and you’d stand out like a sore thumb.”
Murphy wrote down the details in his pocket notebook.
“What about setting up road or gas works?” Kingston asked.
“Again, a bit obvious. You can only go left or right out of the property, so a surveillance vehicle at either junction could pick up the target.”
“Problem is, without a fixed OP on the house we won’t know when Ripley leaves,” Murphy reflected.
“You could stick a CROPS officer in the field opposite the gates or woodland in the grounds,” Stanley suggested, referring to highly trained Covert Rural Observation Post Surveillance officers.
“Good thinking, Stanley,” Murphy said. “You ever do CROPS work when you were on the surveillance squad?”
“Thankfully I wasn’t trained to that level—I never fancied living in a hole for days with my own piss and shit to keep me company.”
“That’s not true—I remember your room in the section house before you got married,” the Colonel quipped, to a roar of laughter.
“All right, enough of the jokes!” Murphy barked. “Anything else on George Ripley?”
Bax had some information. “All Saints Church is at one end of Gravel Lane, so on the off chance we popped in and had a quick word with the vicar about any forthcoming marriages. We struck lucky—Tina Ripley is getting married there this Saturday at three o’clock, but the vicar didn’t know where the reception is being held. I also got George and Tommy Ripley’s home phone numbers from the PO.”
Murphy looked pleased. “Excellent work. You two have been busy.”
“Did the vicar ask why you wanted to know about that particular wedding?” Kingston asked.
“Yes, but we didn’t say who we were interested in and assured him we wouldn’t disrupt the service or reception. He gave us his word he wouldn’t tell anyone we spoke to him.”
“Is Tina Ripley marrying our suspect Carl?” Jane asked.
“No, it’s a bloke called Duncan Sharpin, who we’ve found no trace of in the CRO.”
“Hope he knows what sort of family he’s marrying into,” Teflon joked.
Murphy asked Stanley how he’d got on regarding observation points for the other suspects. He said he had secured a suitable observation point in a two-storey house, owned by an elderly couple, in the next road down from GR Motors. He’d been in the house and from the back bedroom there was an unobstructed view of the car sales front, offices and repair garage.
Murphy made some more notes, then asked Stanley to continue.
“Cam made some enquiries yesterday on Maria Fernandez’s address in Stamford Hill. She doesn’t live there anymore, but the mail forwarding address she gave the Post Office is twelve Connington House, Chingford, which is where Tommy Ripley lives. I couldn’t find a suitable OP there, but an OBO van with two other surveillance vehicles should be enough to follow him to and from the premises. I also secured an OP in a flat above an off-license that overlooks O’Reilly’s place in Seven Sisters Road. There are side streets for the surveillance vehicles to park up and wait for the signal from the OP. It’s a busy area, so if he travels on foot or by bus it will be easy to follow the target. I checked out the view from the newsagent’s opposite the Bluebird—it’s a good one that takes in the snooker hall as well. That covers all the addresses we have so far.”
“Good work. We can tail Graham Smith when he leaves GR Motors, and hopefully we’ll get a sighting of the suspect Carl and can then tail him. Any more on the man in the camel hair coat, Tennison?”
“Rachel Wilson identified a vehicle in Exchange & Mart. I’ll let Teflon tell you about it as he’s the car guru.”
“She picked out a silver Jensen Interceptor Mark 3, but said the one she saw was maroon. She was confident it was the car and said it was possibly a convertible, but she wasn’t sure. The company folded in ’76, but they only sold a few hundred a year, so we might be able to backtrack on maroon ones sold to London residents.”
“That’ll take a long time,” Cam remarked, knowing he’d have to do it.
Murphy agreed with him.
“Let’s try and pick up the Jensen on surveillance first. The surveillance operation will commence at six a.m. tomorrow and the targets will be followed until it’s safe to assume they’ve gone to bed. I’ve got other CO11 units to assist us with the surveillance and permission for wiretaps on the Ripleys and Aidan O’Reilly’s home and work phones. DI Kingston and I just need ten minutes to finalize the details of who will be in the static OPs, or armed in vehicles on the ground, then I want you all to go home and get some rest before tomorrow. You’ll be working long hours for at least the next four weeks, then the squad commander will review the surveillance operation. The bottom line is we don’t know if, when or where our suspects will carry out another robbery, but
if they do, we have the element of surprise on our side. Some Level 1 officers from D11 Firearms Command will be working with us, but as you all know, our suspects are trigger-happy and will be armed with handguns and sawn-offs—so don’t hesitate to shoot the bastards if you feel your life is threatened. Just make sure you hit the bloody target!”
When Jane left the office at 4 p.m., the result of Fiona Simpson’s post mortem hadn’t come in, but she knew the examination of the body could take two to three hours and she could ring Paul Lawrence later in the evening. She was still feeling on a high after the office meeting. The last few days had had their ups and downs, but everything was coming together, and although Murphy was giving her a hard time, the others seemed to have accepted her as part of the team. Thinking about the suspects being ambushed and arrested “on the pavement” was exhilarating, and she hoped it would happen sooner rather than later. Not being authorized to carry a gun, Jane knew she wouldn’t be part of the arrest team, but she hoped at some point Murphy would let her go on a firearms course. She smiled to herself, thinking of her mother’s shock if she found out her daughter carried a gun and was involved in the arrest of armed men in the middle of a robbery. Thinking of her mother, she wondered if she ought to go and see her parents after the stressful situation with Tony and Pam. She decided against it, as she didn’t fancy repeating everything she’d told Pam and needed an early night.
When she got home Jane got a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and red turtleneck jumper out of her wardrobe to wear in the cafe. She then had a hot bath, put on some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and poured herself a glass of wine. Feeling hungry, she cooked herself a large portion of spaghetti bolognese and some garlic bread, then turned on the TV. She flicked through the channels, but there was nothing on she wanted to watch, so she decided to read some more of Medea instead. The story about a woman’s revenge on her husband couldn’t help but make her think about the goings-on in the office. She hoped Kingston’s wife didn’t start poisoning people like Medea had.
The phone rang and she quickly answered it.
“Hi, it’s Paul—we’ve just finished the PM.”
The Dirty Dozen Page 36
