Jane headed down the corridor towards the small B Relief tea kitchen that officers used when the canteen was closed. She had a key to the cupboard for the tea bags and tins of instant coffee, which was kept locked as the contents were always disappearing. Her head ached and she was hunting for a bottle of aspirin when DC Edwards hurried towards her.
‘You’d better get back to the charge room . . . I’ve got to go and find Sergeant Harris . . . he was supposed to be there ages ago. The guv is getting so fed up he wants to shove a snooker cue up his backside if he doesn’t appear soon.’
‘That’s where you’ll find him, he’s usually in there having a game. If you like I can go and find him?’
‘No . . . no . . . it’s fine, I’ll do it. A couple of uniforms are with the prisoner and he’s handcuffed, so he’s not going anywhere. But DI Moran has gone walkabout as well.’
Edwards ran his fingers through his mop of unruly hair. His arms seemed too long, even for his size. He had always had a dishevelled appearance. Sergeant Harris had complained about his untidiness on several occasions and Jane had even overheard him asking Edwards why his trousers never had a crease in them. The following day poor Edwards had turned up for work with the burnt imprint of an iron on his flared trousers.
Jane continued along the corridor into the B kitchen annexe. Unlocking the cupboard she pulled out a bottle of aspirin and filled a glass of water from the tap.
Edwards banged on the door.
‘OK, I tracked him down . . . see you in the charge room. Hey . . . I couldn’t have a couple of those aspirin, could I? I’ve got a terrible headache.’
Jane handed him a glass of water and watched as he tipped four aspirin into his palm. She noticed that his hand was shaking.
‘Are you all right, Brian?’
Edwards swallowed all four tablets in one mouthful and gulped down the rest of the water.
‘Yeah, I’m fine . . . It’s just that DI Moran makes me nervous. You know it wasn’t my fault that bastard got you tonight. He clipped me one . . . I’m sorry you were put through that, Jane.’
She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as he left and said she would see him in the charge room. She poured a fresh glass of water and took two aspirin, sipping the remains of the water before she rinsed the glass under the hot water and left it on the draining board.
Jane had been alone for a few minutes with the handcuffed prisoner when Sergeant Harris walked in, clearly irritated at being dragged away from his game of snooker.
‘Where’s Moran? I thought he was in charge of things?’
‘He just went out to look for you.’
‘Well, he obviously didn’t look hard enough, did he?’ Harris replied sarcastically, sitting behind the charge desk. He took out a large custody sheet from the drawer, clipped it to a board, and removed a pen from his top pocket, as DC Edwards walked in.
‘Right, who’s the arresting officer and what are the facts?’
At that moment Harris took a second look at Jane, causing him to shake his head in disbelief.
‘What on earth do you think you look like, Tennison?’ Jane gave him a cheeky grin. ‘A prostitute on the
game, Sarge. I thought you’d know that . . .’
Edwards laughed but Harris was not amused. DI Moran walked into the room just as Harris chastised Jane for what he felt was as an impudent comment.
‘Don’t get funny with me, Tennison . . . I’ve got your final probationer’s report to do in the next couple of weeks.’ He turned to Moran. ‘Ah, good, you’ve decided to join us . . .’
‘As it happens, Harris, I needed a leak, which is a much more pleasurable experience than talking to you. Now, can we get on with booking the prisoner in?’
Harris grunted but he knew he was pushing his luck with Moran who, although much younger than him, was senior in rank. Harris asked for the facts of the arrest and Moran asked Jane to recount what had happened.
‘I was working on attachment with the CID as a decoy in London Fields this evening—’
‘I already know that, Tennison. I don’t need chapter and verse, just get to the nitty gritty, please.’
Harris’s mockery was making her feel nervous.
‘Unseen by me the suspect jumped out of a tree, grabbed me from behind, covered my mouth and fondled my breasts—’
Harris interrupted, while writing on the charge sheet. ‘So he’s been arrested for indecent assault, I take it?’
Moran didn’t relish getting into a slanging match with Harris, least of all in front of a prisoner. From his pocket he pulled the plastic bag containing the stocking mask and threw it down onto the desk.
‘I think you should know that this scrote wore that mask. It would have scared the shit out of most women, but not WPC Tennison. He elbowed her in the face while trying to escape, and also had this knife in his pocket when I searched him at the scene.’
Moran took the flick knife from his pocket, which was also in a plastic bag, and placed it on the table next to the stocking.
Jane was confused. She had not seen Moran find the knife, and DC Edwards hadn’t mentioned it. She glanced towards Edwards with a questioning look, but he was staring at the knife.
‘I didn’t let Tennison see this at the scene as she was obviously shocked by what happened to her. The attacker threatened to “cut her throat” if she screamed. Suffice to say, Sergeant Harris, he wasn’t trying to drag her to London Fields Lido for a midnight swim! He is also suspected of a number of other sexual assaults and a recent rape.’
Jane knew that a teenage girl had been raped about two weeks ago on Hackney’s ground, but she had no idea that the indecent assault suspect was believed to be responsible for it. The handcuffed prisoner, who was standing to one side listening, reacted angrily for the first time since he’d been brought into the station.
‘This is bullshit! I never had a knife on me! That officer already searched me before he left the room for a piss . . . This is a fit up!’
The expression on Harris’s face was one of pure contempt as he glared at the prisoner before turning to Jane. ‘Did he say he had a knife, and did he cause that cut to your lip?’
Jane nodded. Harris stared at the prisoner harder.
‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
The prisoner took a deep breath as they all waited to hear his reply.
‘I was walking through the park minding my own business when she asked me if I wanted sex . . . I told her I wasn’t interested, then she started attacking me. She kicked me in the bollocks then hit me round the head with a truncheon—’
Harris interrupted. ‘In nearly thirty years’ service I’ve heard every lie and excuse in the book from sick perverts like you. For your information WPCs aren’t issued with truncheons.’
‘Well, she had one in her hand! And those two bastards smashed up my face and used me for football practice! I swear before God, I am telling the truth . . . I’ve been set up!’
Harris told him to shut up and looked at Jane. ‘Did you have a truncheon, Tennison?’
Jane was now becoming worried about the fact she’d used a truncheon on a suspect and glanced towards DI Moran for support. He raised his hand slightly to calm her.
‘I