Daphne gave a wide, open-mouthed smile.
‘Very white… they don’t look like false teeth to me.’
‘I know, my dear. Always get a good, private dentist. The NHS dentures never fit. These were made to measure and cost a fortune.’
‘Can you remember anything that happened?’
‘Not all of it… it’s very hazy. I suppose it’ll come back to me. They found my handbag, but I don’t have my reading glasses. Maybe they got broken, but I can’t read anything… Are you a nurse?’
‘No, I’m a police officer.’
‘I was a Wren in the last war… my husband was a pilot. What did you say your name was again, dear?’
‘Jane.’
Although Daphne was talking relatively coherently, she spoke slowly and with little expression. She opened and closed her eyes as if the effort wearied her.
‘Daphne, I don’t want to tire you too much but do you think you could try to answer some questions for me? If you want me to wait a while I can do that, but it is rather important and time is really against—’
‘Go ahead, dear. I was a Wren, you know, so I’m used to working under pressure. As you are here it must be important, and I was always a stickler for putting duty first.’
‘I want you to try to recall everything that happened in as much detail as you can remember from the moment you arrived at Covent Garden station… what you saw, and how it all occurred.’
Daphne lay with her eyes closed. It took a while before she slowly recounted to Jane how she had noticed the rucksack, and had seen the man walking away. She had called out to him because she thought he had forgotten it, but he didn’t take any notice. She had called a second time, but he’d walked towards the exit. Then she had seen Jane and heard her calling out to the man. Considering what she had been through, her recollection was very clear, but Jane didn’t want to take her to the moment of the explosion. She patted her hand.
‘That’s good, Daphne. Can you describe what he was wearing?’
‘Yes, a dark coat… and he had a scarf around his neck. He was a big man with longish, shoulder-length hair. He didn’t have a full beard but he was unshaven.’
‘Do you think you would recognise him?’
‘Yes, I would, most definitely… because when I called out to him he turned to face me.’
Jane was deep in thought about what to do. Crowley had said he’d send someone from bomb squad to get Daphne’s description but she wanted to know if Daphne recognised the man in the artist’s impression that had been shown at the press conference.
‘Don’t you want to know what he looked like, dear?’
Daphne’s question made up her mind. Jane rummaged in her bag and pulled out a crumpled press release showing the image of the man that Crowley had released to the press.
‘Did he look like this, Daphne?’
Daphne couldn’t lift her head so Jane had to stand close to her to show her the sketch. She pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes open and shut.
‘I need my glasses. Can you hold it a little bit further away from me?’
Jane held the sketch in front of Daphne, until she gave a small shake of her head.
‘No, no… that’s not him. The hair’s not right; he had more of a square face, thin lips, and a sort of flat nose, with bushy eyebrows. That sketch isn’t right at all.’
Jane knew that this would put a spanner in the works for Crowley. It didn’t mean that the man he suspected, in the surveillance photo, wasn’t part of the ASU, but he clearly was not the actual bomber. And this confirmed that Daphne was a more important witness than Jane, as she had seen the bomber’s full face.
‘Thank you, Daphne, you have been extremely helpful, and I’ll make sure you get some new glasses.’
Thank you, dear. I’m being well looked after. I don’t have any family, you know. My husband was a pilot, he was shot down over Dresden… never anyone else, no children…’
Jane listened as Daphne talked about her husband, until her voice became fainter, and when she fell asleep Jane quietly left the room. She headed down the ward and into the corridor, just as DS Dexter came towards her.
‘Hi, Jane, I’ve been waiting for you. How did it go with the lovely Daphne?’
‘Better than I could have hoped for. She’s an incredible lady and has excellent recall of the suspect’s face.’
As they went out of the hospital Jane told Dexter that she’d shown Daphne the artist’s sketch and how Daphne had dismissed it, giving her a detailed description of the man she saw leave the rucksack. She added that she, too, was now almost certain the man in the surveillance photo was not the man she’d seen at the station. Dexter was very attentive and smiled.
Jane was frustrated. ‘This situation has the potential to leave Crowley with egg on his face, as well as making me appear to be an unreliable witness.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, and the press will have a field day if it gets out. Listen, you did a good job with Daphne. Crowley will be pissed off, but he’s got only himself to blame. He took a gamble releasing the artist’s impression at the press conference, and so far it hasn’t paid off. I know how to handle Crowley, so let me talk to him. In fact, I’ll call him now. I can also order a car for us if you wait here…’
‘I’ve brought my own car,’ Jane replied. Dexter hesitated, slightly wrong-footed, and told her to bring the car around to the reception and he would meet her there. He waited for her to move off then made his way back to the nurse’s bay and called Crowley to update him.
‘It’s Dexter. We’ve got a spanner in the works, sir. Daphne Millbank was shown the artist’s sketch by Tennison, she said it isn’t the man she saw and now Tennison’s saying the same thing.’
‘For fuck’s sake, that’s the last thing I need. Tennison disobeyed my order.’
‘On the plus side, Tennison knows this makes her an unreliable witness. She’s not likely to publicise that. You could always raise the possibility of two men working together and…’
‘There’s has never been any reference to a second man,’ Crowley snapped.
Dexter remained calm. ‘I know that, but Daphne Milbank saw the man who left the rucksack, whereas Tennison saw a man who reacted to Daphne shouting “stop”. It’s natural to assume an accomplice would react as well…’
‘Christ, don’t complicate everything. We’ll talk about it later.’ Crowley snapped again and ended the call.
It was about fifteen minutes before Dexter walked back out of the hospital. He stood looking at Jane’s VW, shaking his head.
‘This is very subtle, Detective Tennison. Was this the only colour you could get? I mean, bright yellow? Nobody could miss you!’
Jane didn’t react as Dexter climbed into the passenger seat beside her, and jerked the seat back to accommodate his long legs.
‘What did Crowley say?’
‘What do you think? He wasn’t happy, said he’d talk about it later and slammed the phone down.’
‘Do you want me to be there as well?’
‘No, he’s mad you disobeyed him. I’ll handle it… by the way, I saw DS Stanley earlier. He said he’d upset you over a criminal records check… Pearl somebody, was it?’
‘I’m thinking of letting out a room in my flat to Pearl, but the fact is Stanley was snooping round, saw her details and checked her out…’ Jane said, still annoyed about it.
‘For what it’s worth, he was just concerned for your safety. I told you about sleepers, didn’t I?’
‘You said they’re members of the IRA who appear to be ordinary members of society until they’re needed?’ she said, concentrating on the road.
‘A sleeper for the IRA is someone whose background and demeanour enables them to go unnoticed in England, so that they can better help the IRA in their bombing campaign. When they’re needed, they’re contacted. No big drinkers, and they need to know when to keep their mouths shut and stay as anonymous as possible. Never assume anyone you come into contact with is who they say they are.’