Tennison (8 page)

Martin now cut into the bladder and took a urine sample. Together with a blood sample from an artery he handed it to DS Lawrence for toxicology tests at the lab.

The assistant mortician placed a large plastic bowl between the legs of the victim. Professor Martin cut away the internal organs, sliding them in one block into the bowl. Then he carried it over to the other table to do a closer examination and take some samples for microscopic study.

Jane took a few deep breaths, exhaling the air from her mouth as she started to feel queasy.

The mortician used a saw to cut a circle around the top of the skull, and then removed it with a T-shaped bone chisel and hammer. Next came the brain, which he took over to Professor Martin who was still examining the internal organs and weighing them.

Oh my God, Jane said to herself, and unable to watch shut her eyes. She took a few more deep breaths and sniffed. Contrary to what she had been told the VapoRub did in fact help keep her standing upright, but the overpowering smells and sights were making her feel sick.

‘There may be another reason your victim wanted to get herself off heroin. I have discovered a dead foetus in the uterus. She’s about 2.9 inches long, weighs .81 of an ounce and some teeth have started forming – so I would estimate Julie Ann was twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant. The child could have died at the same time as the mother, or possibly as a result of the earlier beating.’

Hearing this new information made Jane open her eyes, and she was so taken aback by the fact that the victim was pregnant her dizziness went. Martin placed the foetus in an airtight container filled with formaldehyde, and although Bradfield and Lawrence both looked, Jane could not bring herself to do so.

‘My God, it doesn’t even look human, more like a baby monkey,’ Bradfield whispered in shock.

‘It is human, believe you me, and sadly perfectly formed for the time of the gestation,’ Martin said quietly.

The post-mortem examination of Julie Ann Collins lasted nearly three hours and DS Lawrence took extensive photographs of all her injuries. As he packed his camera in its bag he leant over to Jane.

‘You did well, luv. Most probationers keel over as soon as they see the body on the slab – and good spot about the bra being strapless.’

Jane smiled. Bradfield told her to get a move on and she dutifully followed him out of the mortuary. She thanked him for letting her attend the post-mortem.

He stopped and cocked his head to one side, looking down at her.

‘Congratulations, Tennison. You impressed me – very attentive and you asked intelligent questions. But I’ve never had anyone thank me for allowing them to attend a post-mortem before.’ He hesitated before he asked what she felt about the fact that their victim had been pregnant.

‘So sad – perhaps she didn’t even know?’

‘Maybe, but it makes me want to catch the bastard even more. She was only seventeen years old, and now it’s a waste of two lives, not just one.’

‘Do you think Eddie Phillips killed her?’

He didn’t reply and remained deep in thought as they crossed the station yard. Jane asked him if she could be excused now the post-mortem was over as she was on late shift.

‘What time is it?’

‘Three o’clock, sir.’

‘Is Sergeant Harris on duty?

Jane nodded. Bradfield handed her a £1 note and told her he needed to talk to him. In the meantime he wanted her to go to the canteen and get him a coffee and a ham sandwich then bring them to his office.

Jane went to the washroom first as she could smell disinfectant on her hands and clothes. It was so strong she realized she’d have to get her jacket and skirt dry-cleaned and her shirt washed. She scrubbed her hands over and over, but the smell persisted and she wished she’d kept some decent soap in her locker.

Looking in the washbasin mirror Jane smiled at herself and swore she’d never be silly enough to lie down on a mortuary floor again. She removed the Vicks VapoRub from her handbag and, deciding to forget about the two embarrassing incidents altogether, dropped it in the bin. But she could not forget the sight of Julie Ann on the mortuary table, nor the terrible beating she had suffered.

In the station yard a Leyland Sherpa ‘paddy wagon’ parked up. Kath climbed out of the back with a detective, escorting a young man who was clearly under arrest and, with his frizzed hairstyle and clothing, obviously a fan of Marc Bolan. He was dressed in high-heeled platform boots, skin-tight flared jeans and a Moroccan-style fur-and-embroidered sleeveless jacket. The uniform driver of the van assisted the detective with the prisoner while Kath, who had a chuffed-to-bits look on her face, went to get some paperwork from the CID office.

Jane took Bradfield his coffee and sandwich, but after the post-mortem the sight of food made her feel queasy. He barely looked up as he was reading a report. Twice she started to ask him if she could go, but he held his hand up and told her to be quiet, so she just stood and waited for him to finish reading.

Two detectives had spent the morning with Mr and Mrs Collins taking a background statement. It transpired that Julie Ann was three months from her eighteenth birthday and had not been living at home for a year and a half. During that time they had not seen or heard from her. They explained that their daughter had started to abscond from school at the age of fourteen, and that no matter how hard they tried to reason with her she still played truant. She had started to mix with an unsavoury group of boys she’d met in the West End one weekend. They discovered her smoking cannabis and constant arguments followed as she became more and more difficult to handle. She had run away numerous times since she turned fifteen and had either been brought back home by the police, or turned up dishevelled and belligerent.

Her mother described how she had discovered injection marks on Julie Ann’s arm whilst she was sleeping, and how the heroin usage had made her a totally different girl. The Collinses’ grief and shock were compounded when they were told by the detectives that Julie Ann had been arrested and convicted for prostitution six months ago. Mrs Collins could not understand why her daughter would do such a thing, but it was explained that it was to feed her heroin addiction. When asked if they knew Eddie Phillips and were shown a Polaroid picture of him, they responded that they had never seen or heard of him before, nor did they know anyone who owned a red Jaguar.

Bradfield looked at Jane. ‘You still here? Do me a favour and get me a fresh pack of Woodbines, will you, as I’m out of cigarettes.’ He placed a 50p coin on the desk.

Jane wished she’d just left the sandwich and coffee on his desk. She begrudgingly picked up the coin and set off for the newsagent’s opposite. On her way downstairs she bumped into Kath, who was in a buoyant mood.

‘How did it go at the post-mortem? I can smell you from here – I bet it wasn’t very pleasant,’ she said.

Jane told Kath how interesting it had been, but decided not to mention the dead foetus in case it was something Bradfield didn’t want people outside his team to know about yet. However, she did explain how DS Spencer Gibbs’s Vicks-up-the-nose was a practical joke intended for Kath.

‘The little shite! Typical – but I’ll get him back somehow.’

‘You got your burglar then?’ Jane asked, having seen Kath in the yard.

‘It was bloody brilliant, Jane. We were parked up on the estate watching from the spy hole of the obo van when the little scrote burglar turned up. He saw an old lady come out of a flat, waited till she’d gone and then knocked on her door. When he got no answer he pulled out a jemmy from under his swanky jacket and prised the door open. I was shaking with excitement and we caught him red-handed in the bedroom with notes in his hands, and more stuffed in his pockets. She kept her life savings in a shoe-box and we recovered the lot for her. I’m even listed as nicking him on the arrest sheet and I’m going to be interviewing him with a detective. There’s been quite a few old people’s flats turned over and I reckon he’s done ’em all. You know what really makes me sick? He had a wedge this thick.’ She indicated with her finger and thumb before continuing.

‘He’d got hundreds on him he’d nicked . . . Still, the cocky bugger won’t be swaggering around like he’s some rock star any more. Stealing from an old lady like that is real sicko, Jane.’

‘Well done, Kath! That’s got to be a bonus for you, and a big step towards becoming a detective.’

‘Fingers crossed, Jane, fingers crossed,’ Kath said as she hurried off to the custody room.

Jane got the Woodbines and was returning to Bradfield’s office when Sergeant Harris came out with a face like thunder. He glared as she approached.

‘You might think you can get round Bradfield by fluttering your eyelashes, but you can’t fool me, Tennison. Your cards are marked, so I suggest you watch your step if you want to pass your probation and be confirmed as a WPC.’

As Harris stormed off Jane couldn’t believe that he was so riled simply because she had been to a bereavement notification and a post-mortem, things she was expected to do during her probation anyway.

She knocked on Bradfield’s door, and when he told her to come in she handed him his Woodbines and his change. He thanked her, inviting her to sit down.

‘How do you get on with Harris as your reporting sergeant?’

‘Fine, sir, he’s very helpful,’ she replied unconvincingly, not daring to be honest in case Bradfield and Harris were friends.

‘What are you like at indexing?’

‘I’m not very good, sir,’ Jane said, wanting to get back to the front office before Harris boiled over.

Bradfield flicked open a file on his desk. ‘Funny that. Your application says you went to the Central London Polytechnic and did business studies, and you used to help in your father’s company during the holidays, so you must have some experience of indexing?’

‘Yes, sir, but not in murder investigations.’

‘My indexer Sally is three months pregnant. Under police regulations it means she’s due to go on maternity leave, so I need a replacement.’

Jane thought about Harris’s threat. She realized Bradfield had already told him he wanted her to do some indexing, and that was why he was so annoyed with her. ‘I’m honoured that you have asked me, sir, but I am still a probationer and—’

He interrupted her, patting a vast file on his desk.

‘It’s only temporary. Take this with you and do a few hours here and there until I find a suitable replacement. As you know, Julie Ann may have been murdered nearby and dumped, so I need to concentrate on the area close to the scene, and that means the Kingsmead Estate. There’s no way a magistrate will give me a warrant to search each and every one of the bloody flats down there. I need someone to check off all the names the occupants give in the house-to-house enquiries against the electoral register, and also check with the collator for anyone with a criminal record living down there.’

‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to start now?’

‘What a good idea, and do the same for the residents of Edgar House on the Pembridge where the squat was,’ he said with a smile.

Jane stood up to leave, and although she knew she should feel pleased with herself, she worried about Harris. But if she let Bradfield down it could jeopardize her career even further.

‘One last thing – you’re not the only one who thinks Harris is over the hill and a lazy waste of space, and I don’t think he was too pleased I just told him as much. If he gives you any hassle let me know; for now you work for me.’ He took a bite of his sandwich and pulled a face.

‘Jesus Christ, this is tuna.’

‘Is it? I’m sure I asked for ham.’

‘Never mind. Sally will give you a run-through on indexing and what to do, but first I want you to type up what Professor Martin told us at the post-mortem.’

‘Yes, sir, thank you.’

She started to go, then realized she hadn’t picked up his file. He watched her as she returned to his desk to collect it. She blushed as he smiled at her, and was so flustered she almost tripped and only just managed to hold on to the file.

‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’

‘Good, thank you.’

As she closed the door behind her, Bradfield opened his new pack of Woodbines.

Jane went to the small PCs’ writing room, next to the parade room, to type up the post-mortem report. When she’d finished she took it up to DCI Bradfield to check over, but he wasn’t in his office. She left the report on his desk and went down to the collator’s office to talk to PC Donaldson about the residents of the Kingsmead and Pembridge estates.

‘Bloody hell, are you telling me he wants you to check out every address and person on the estate? You do realize that on the Kingsmead alone there are nearly a thousand flats and over four thousand residents? I’m happy for you to look through my criminal index cards, but like I said before, you can only do it in here. If you want microfiche copies of any files then write the name and criminal-record number in my book here and I’ll order them from the Yard.’

‘Can I take the voters’ register with me, please?’

‘Go on then. I’ve got a spare one in my desk drawer so you can keep that one for now. If you get any suspect names run them by me and I’ll see if I can find out any more about them from my various sources.’

‘Do you know anything about Jaguar cars?’

‘Not really, way above my wages. I’m a Ford Cortina man myself. Why?’

‘DCI Bradfield said the victim of his murder investigation was last seen getting into a Jaguar and I don’t know much about cars myself.’

‘You could try the black rats.’

‘Who?’

‘Traffic police. A black rat is an animal that will eat its own family, which equates to a traffic officer having no compassion for uniform patrol and CID officers when it comes to drink driving or other vehicle offences. There isn’t much they don’t know about different makes of cars. Try the unit at Bow.’

On her way to the incident room Jane knocked on DCI Bradfield’s door to see if he had read her report on the post-mortem, and to ask if she should now index and file it. The door was opened by a huge man in his early fifties with a ruddy, stern-looking face. He was at least eighteen stone and wore a blue pinstriped suit, light blue shirt, tie and black brogues.