Tennison (46 page)

‘What’s odd about that?’ Bradfield asked.

‘Well, the Greek café, they got notices up that he’s doing refurbishing, so to me it’s a waste of good money if the place is gonna be pulled down, understand what I mean?’

Bradfield made no comment about the information, but asked Mannie for an empty suit-bag to be padded out with paper and old useless cut-offs. A puzzled Mannie did as he was asked and Bradfield thanked him for his time. ‘We’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about our chat, Mr Charles.’

Mannie nodded.
‘
Mazel tov, Mr Bradfield – and, Miss Morgan, my wife will have the lady’s suit ready for you in good time,’ he said, and closed the door.

As Bradfield and Kath walked to the car she said, ‘Do ya not want to take a look at the café?’

He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘If they got a lookout positioned somewhere round here I don’t want them getting suspicious. That’s why I asked for an empty suit-bag that looks full – we just move on nice and casual.’

On the way back to the station Kath sat in the passenger seat as Bradfield drove. It was almost midnight: she was really tired and had been in bed suffering from an almighty hangover when they had called her in.

‘There was something going on that I thought was rather odd,’ she said, yawning.

He turned and frowned at her. ‘I know, so that’s why we’ll check out with the council in the morning about the lease and see what we can get on this Silas geezer.’

‘No, it wasn’t about the lease, it was Mrs Charles cutting out labels from the suits and binning them. There was another stack of labels next to her with “Mannie Charles” on them.’

He said nothing as he was more concerned about the fact the café was next door to the bank. But he made a mental note to have a word with the detective who had been taking the orders for the suits. He had assumed it was just a few off-the-peg, cut-price Horne Brothers suits for some of the Hackney CID officers, and that Mannie was altering them to size, but judging by the amount of suits in the back room he suspected half of East London’s CID were being kitted out and was curious as to why the labels needed to be changed. He sighed to himself as he realized the last thing he needed was A10 breathing down his neck again over a load of hooky suits.

David had watched the couple exit from the tailor’s, confident he had been right and they were customers, as the tall man was now carrying a suit-bag. An hour later Mannie and his wife locked up their shop and drove off. David was shivering again with the cold, his back ached and his leg was throbbing. It was going to be yet another long freezing night.

‘I let you out on the streets and you go stirring up a hornet’s nest, which results in Bradfield giving me another dressing down for not taking some nutter’s call seriously,’ Harris barked at her.

Jane had arrived for early turn the following morning only to find once again she was posted to the front desk by a furious Sergeant Harris who started shouting at her before she’d even removed her coat.

She didn’t bother to say anything back to him, and when he asked what was going on she simply said DCI Bradfield had told her she wasn’t to discuss it with anyone. This angered Harris more, but she was actually quite pleased that it did.

‘I dunno what this place is coming to. She’s not got either the experience or know-how and gets lucky with some banknotes, and the next minute she’s been bloody promoted. I’ve thirty years’ hard graft under my belt that seems to mean F-all to some people.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘WPC Kathleen Morgan. She’s like a Cheshire cat now she’s been made acting detective. She’s always put it about and used her equipment to get what she wants, and as for her stinking perfume . . . ’

Jane let him rant on, and he didn’t even seem to notice her walk off to deal with someone at the front counter. Just after ten o’clock, Jane went for her break and popped into the incident room to find Kath.

It was already a hive of activity and there were numerous officers she hadn’t seen at the station before. From the way they appeared, some with long hair and scruffy clothes, others smart but casual, and a couple in workman’s clothes, she guessed they were probably surveillance officers.

Jane noticed the index carousel was empty and Kath was boxing everything to do with the now-solved Julie Ann Collins case.

‘Congratulations, Kath, on your well-deserved appointment as an acting detective.’

‘I am over the bloody moon. I couldn’t believe it when the boss said it was in recognition of the Kenneth Boyle arrest and my work matching the banknotes, which cracked the Julie Ann murder case.’ She breathed on her nails and rubbed them on her jacket.

‘Well, I am jealous. I mean it’s going to be a long time for me to be even considered for the CID as I’ve got to complete my probation.’

Jane looked around at everyone. ‘What’s going on?’

Kath gestured to all the new officers.

‘They’re taking over the incident room for the John Bentley investigation and Bradfield has called for everyone to attend the briefing. I heard him tell Gibbs he wants you in on it as well.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jane asked excitedly.

‘Yeah, anyway, I hope they don’t stick me in that stinking surveillance van. One time the buggers left me on my own while they went to the pub – I was in it for four hours sweating like a pig and bursting for a pee.’

DS Gibbs walked in wearing his long black worn leather coat and black ankle boots.

‘Morgan, can you head up to the canteen and tell everyone on the team to come down in five minutes as Bradfield wants to get the meeting under way sooner rather than later.’

When Kath left he took Jane to one side.

‘You may be right about Bentley being up to something.’

She blushed and admitted that at one point she had been terrified she might be wrong.

‘You may still be, but fair dues, you stuck to your guns, even under pressure from me,’ he said smiling.

She thanked him and leaving the room felt downhearted that he hadn’t said anything about her being back on the team. Kath had obviously misheard.

She walked past Bradfield’s office and paused.

‘Where you off to, Tennison?’ she heard Bradfield shout from behind her and stopped.

‘The canteen for refs,’ she said without turning, not wanting him to see the disappointment on her face.

‘Get me a coffee and a pack of Bourbons while you’re there.’

God, he’s got a cheek, she thought to herself.

‘You got three minutes so get a move on.’

Annoyed, she turned sharply and stood with her knuckles dug into her hips. ‘Well, I’m very sorry but I’m busy on the front desk YET AGAIN, and only have one pair of hands, so for once you’ll have to get your own coffee and Bourbons.’

He cocked his head to one side and knew instinctively why she was upset.

‘Hold on, Tennison. Hurry up with the coffee because I want you on the investigation and in the office for the meeting. Didn’t DS Gibbs tell you?

She suddenly wished the ground would swallow her up and mumbled an apology for her petulant behaviour.

‘It’s all right, this time. Besides, you look kinda cute when you’re angry,’ he said, and looked at his watch. ‘You got two minutes now.’

Jane was up the stairs like a shot.

Everyone was gathered. Jane stood at the back of the office as all the chairs were occupied. Bradfield had given Kath big sheets of paper to stick on the wall, with street and building diagrams drawn on them and notes neatly written in black felt tip. DS Gibbs had set up the reel-to-reel tape player in one corner of the room.

Bradfield looked refreshed and energized, even though he’d had only about three hours’ sleep. He handed out copies of Jane’s report detailing her visit to Ashley Brennan, and a transcription of the tape. He told DS Gibbs to start the tape and they all remained still and silent as they listened to the recording. The tape finished and Bradfield, perched on the edge of a desk, stood up and walked to the front of the room.

‘Right, listen up. Anything you have read, heard or are told about this investigation stays within this team and these four walls. Do I make myself clear?’ He looked round the room, staring everyone in the eye. ‘If as much as a peep gets out, then believe me I will personally destroy the career of whoever’s responsible.’

Jane had never seen him so serious, and by the expression on the faces of the others in the room neither had they.

‘You’ve heard the tape and read Tennison’s report so I won’t repeat what’s in it. Clearly our suspects are using walkie-talkies and we believe the man referred to as Brushstroke is John Bentley. He’s a hard nut who’s done time for a very nasty GBH as well as other serious crimes,’ he said, pinning up John’s mug shot on a cork board.

‘Word on the street is his old man’s just come out the nick,’ a detective said.

Bradfield nodded, pinned up another mug shot and tapped it with his finger. ‘Clifford Bentley has just finished an eight stretch for armed robbery and was released from Pentonville a couple of days ago. But we don’t know for certain yet if he’s involved.’

‘Pigs might fly if he isn’t, guv,’ an officer remarked, causing people to smile and nod in agreement.

A surveillance officer stepped closer to get a better look at Clifford’s photograph.

‘That’s the guy we saw from the obo van staggering into the Pembridge Estate just after midnight. Pissed as a fart, he was.’

Bradfield asked if he was sure, and his partner in the obo van looked at the picture and confirmed it was Clifford Bentley. He realized that it might mean Clifford wasn’t on ‘the job’ as he clearly wasn’t working through the night.

‘Any idea yet who was in the van with Bentley last night, guv?’ the surveillance officer who followed the van asked.

‘Not a hundred per cent, but it could be this man Daniel Mitcham, tough, nasty ex-squaddie and local boy,’ Bradfield said, putting up a photo of the thuggish-looking Mitcham before continuing. ‘He was arrested for the same GBH as John Bentley. They did porridge together and according to a snout are both close and drink in the Albion on Chatsworth Road.’

The two officers who had been in the surveillance van were whispering to each other.

‘Something you would like to share with the rest of us?’ Gibbs asked.

They looked at each other wondering who should tell him but Bradfield pre-empted them.

‘It’s not Mitcham, is it?’

‘No, sir, very similar build and age, but the man we saw had shoulder-length blond hair, not dark like Mitcham.’

‘Pity, but that still doesn’t rule him out as we don’t know exactly how many are involved.’

He continued, telling everyone that John Bentley was in possession of a decorator’s van with copied index plates from the same type of van in Kingston. He then asked the surveillance officers who followed John Bentley yesterday evening to brief the team on what happened. The officer who had written the surveillance log went through everything in fine detail and said that they were not sure if Bentley had sussed he was being tailed, or they had simply lost him. They had returned to the Pembridge in the obo van and remained in situ to see if Bentley returned, but by 3 a.m. he hadn’t and they were told to stand down by Bradfield.

Bradfield lit a cigarette. ‘From now on the surveillance on John and Clifford Bentley will be round the clock, with three to four per vehicle and static points so you can take turns catching some kip during the night.’

He also informed them a team was already out watching the Bentley flat and another out at Allard Street where Daniel Mitcham lived with his wife and two kids in a terraced council house. Even though they had as yet no sighting of Mitcham, he had a close relationship with Bentley so Bradfield was covering all possibilities.

An officer asked if it was known where John Bentley’s van was now and Bradfield told him it was not in the vicinity of the Kingsmead or Pembridge and could be in a rented garage or lock-up somewhere, but it was hoped surveillance would resolve the problem.

‘There is another man we believe to be involved, a Greek immigrant called Silas Manatos. Unfortunately he has no criminal record so we don’t as yet have a picture of him, but we hope a surveillance team will soon.’

He walked over to the street drawing taped to the wall and indicated each building as he continued. ‘Manatos runs this café in Great Eastern Street, which is right next door to the Trustee Savings Bank and may be the possible target for a break-in via the basement of the café and into the bank vault. Right now we have no firm evidence, witnesses or informants who have seen or heard anything suspicious. Reality is, ladies and gents, I’m acting on a gut feeling due to circumstantial evidence over Silas’s lease of the café. He’s having refurbishment work done, but the premises are due to be knocked down soon. I strongly believe that the target is the TSB; however, it could be any bank, or even a jeweller’s, anywhere in London.’

Everybody looked at each other, surprised how vast an area they could be looking at, but Bradfield reassured them that if he was right about John Bentley then the surveillance teams should not only help to identify the other members of the gang, but lead them to the premises to be robbed.

DS Gibbs, sitting near to Bradfield, was uneasy. ‘We’re going on a lot of “assumption”. We could have the wrong location,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I know I have to consider that, but these guys are obviously up to something and we just have to step up the surveillance. I am going to talk to the manager of our suspected target today. Morgan, you can come with me, but I don’t want anything that gives away that we are on to them as it will make them back off and then we’ll have nothing.’

He then asked Jane to get back to Ashley Brennan and ask if he had picked up any further conversations overnight. She said she would call him straight after the meeting.

Kath saw a mug shot of David Bentley in amongst the papers Bradfield had placed on the desk and picked it up. He looked very young and from the arrest date on the photo she could see it was taken many years ago, but it was interesting that he had fair hair.