Jane sat back on the kitchen stool and sipped her coffee. ‘I’m dreading her coming here. The thought of her being in my flat makes me feel sick… but the other side of me knows she has to turn up if she’s to be arrested.’
‘She’s coming to you because she has to be certain that you haven’t got any suspicions about her. We’ll be onto her as soon as she comes out of the underground station… with the evidence piled up against her, she’s looking at twenty-five years. She’ll talk… they always do.’
Jane swallowed and nodded at Church’s packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind if I have one?’
He took the packet and opened it. Jane hesitated before taking a cigarette out and placing it between her lips. She leaned forwards and before he could pick up his lighter she had it in her hand. She held it for a moment, then used her thumb to flick it open and light the flame, inhaling the smoke and flicking the lighter closed again. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and Church gently touched her cheek.
‘No need for tears, Jane… you did good. I’m proud of the way you handled that phone call.’
She blew out the smoke, which tasted rancid on her tongue, then turned away.
‘The tears are not about that… I was just remembering something… someone else.’
The memory of DCI Bradfield was still so strong in her mind. She knew he would have been proud of her. Church reminded her of the man she had loved, who had died so tragically.
‘Listen, Jane, I’m going to have to get to the Yard to set things up for tomorrow and give old Crowley the good news. If there are any further developments, call me. I can come back later tonight and stay with you if you want.’
She knew that what he had suggested was not going to happen, even if she wanted it to. She inhaled another deep lungful of smoke, but it still tasted awful so she slowly stubbed the cigarette out in the saucer he had used.
‘That’s really nice of you, but to be honest I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day and I need to get organised for tomorrow. If there’s any news just call me and let me know if I have to see Crowley again.’
Church leaned over and kissed her cheek. He seemed embarrassed and kept his arm around her shoulders as she walked with him to her front door. He gestured towards the ironing board.
‘That T-shirt… I know who it belongs to. I’ve seen him wearing it.’
Jane moved away from him a fraction.
‘Oh, that… I had to borrow it. As you know, when you weren’t available to talk to I went to see Dexter and very embarrassingly I was sick over myself. So, he gave me that to change into, to get home.’
Church gave her a sardonic smile and dropped his arm from around her shoulders.
‘Take care with him, Jane. He’s an amazing guy… but takes terrifying risks… He’s also got a bad reputation over his relationships with women.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said, with a weak smile. She shut the flat door behind him and locked it as he went down the stairs.
Returning to the kitchen, she washed up the dishes, then picked up the packet of cigarettes that Church had left on the counter. She shook out another one and lit it from the gas ring on the cooker. She inhaled and this time it didn’t taste as bad. Holding the cigarette between her lips she tucked Dexter’s T-shirt under her arm, not caring that she was creasing her careful ironing. Still smoking, she collapsed the ironing board and stashed it away in the hall cupboard, then went into her bedroom. She slowly unfolded Dexter’s T-shirt and held it to her as she closed her eyes.
‘Don’t hurt me,’ she said, softly.
Chapter Twenty
It was Good Friday, the day of the dinner dance. Natalie Wilde had still not returned to her basement flat, nor did she go to work at the bank as she had called in sick. Without any knowledge of where she was Crowley gave the go ahead for two officers to force entry into her basement flat, accompanied by forensic expert DS Lawrence. Crowley requested that Jane Tennison accompany Lawrence to the flat so, after being collected in an unmarked police vehicle, Jane was taken to 44 Belsize Park Avenue to join the forensic team.
After being given the all-clear from the bomb disposal expert, who had checked the door frames for possible booby traps, Jane and Lawrence made their way down the steps to the front door. It was easy to open the simple Yale lock with a skeleton key. Lawrence pushed the door but it wouldn’t open fully as something was behind it. The smell that greeted them made it clear that bags of rubbish had been left to rot in the hallway.
‘Take those back to the lab for sorting,’ Lawrence told one his team who had now joined them.
As one officer removed the bags the two other officers moved silently round the flat, searching the entire basement. There were numerous empty drawers in the main room, and in the kitchen there were more rubbish bags containing half-opened tins and used food cartons, as well as many empty wine bottles.
‘God, this place is a mess. Was it like this when you were here, Jane?’ Lawrence asked.
‘No — it was neat and tidy. It looks as if other people have been here since I was. The furnishing and the pictures on the walls are the same, but it’s all a façade now that we know who Natalie really is.’ Seeing it like this, empty and neglected, Jane wondered how she’d been fooled.
She crossed to a bookcase filled with Penguin paperbacks and took one down. The browning book smelt musty. Jane and Lawrence went into the bedroom where a few items had been left in the dressing table-drawers.
‘This is where you found the scarf, isn’t it?’ Lawrence asked.
‘Yes. It was with all her underwear, in that drawer there.’ She indicated the bottom drawer.
‘Well, it’s not there now,’ he said, rummaging around.
Jane checked the wardrobe. Inside was an old coat, a rain jacket, two blouses, and a pair of shoes that were down at the heel and had a hole in the sole.
‘I don’t think they belong to her.’ Jane glanced at the scuffed shoes and then looked over to the double bed. ‘She told me it was her mother’s quilt,’ she said.
Lawrence lifted it up. Underneath it there were sheets and pillow cases, all in need of a wash and smelling of mildew. ‘She must have moved most of her stuff out before Stanley set up the observation over the road,’ he said.
‘Church said when they last saw Natalie enter her flat she was carrying a bag of groceries?’
‘All part of the front to appear normal in the eyes of others. She’s a skilled operative, Jane… I doubt any one of us on this investigation would have rumbled her cover.’
In the waste bin they found the unopened groceries and tins of food that Natalie must have bought on the day she’d left work early. Some used candles were also in the bin. Jane bent down and took one out, sniffing it. Lily of the Valley. She held it up.
‘Natalie must have lit scented candles to cover the smell of mildew when I came here. Plus she was always cooking when I was here.’
Lawrence nodded. ‘You never know… Besides her prints we might find some other useful ones here that match to known IRA members.’
He did several spot tests for nitroglycerine but all proved negative and he said he thought it was unlikely that the premises had been used for bomb-making.
They opened the French windows onto the small garden; moss-covered stone steps led to a garden table and two benches. Overshadowed by a huge tree with enormous branches, it felt dank and cold.
‘I keep on making excuses for my naivety… Why didn’t I pick it up? She lied to me about everything, even telling me she had picnics out here.’
Lawrence shrugged. He was surprised that the usually observant Jane hadn’t detected the underlying state of the flat. But instead he said, ‘Don’t beat yourself up about this, Jane. You didn’t have any reason to doubt her.’