‘I only wish Helen could have been with us to hear it for herself,’ Brenda said tearfully.
‘I’ll drive you and Simon back to Mrs. Rowlands’.’
‘It’s all right. I’ll take him to the café for some ice cream as a treat first. He likes trains and tubes, so we’ll make our own way back.’
They walked out of the social services building together.
Jane turned to Brenda. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as we have any developments. See you later, Simon.’
‘Bye, bye, Jane.’ Simon smiled as he trotted off towards the café holding his grandmother’s hand.
Jane watched them go with mixed emotions: happy that Simon hadn’t been abused, but angry with herself that she’d got it all so wrong about David Simmonds. She nipped back into social services and tried calling Moran to update him, but he was at the Yard with Blake and wasn’t expected back in the office.
Walking to her car, Jane reflected on Mrs. Williams’ words about ‘misconstruing’ information and Moran’s advice about not letting her emotions cloud her judgment. Sitting in the driver’s seat, she slammed the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. ‘You bloody idiot, Jane!’
Chapter Nineteen
Jane arrived at the Churchill Arms to watch Gibbs’ band just before 8 p.m. She’d dressed casually in jeans, a red dagger collar shirt, which she’d tied at the waist, and black boots. The pub was packed and virtually the whole team were there, although the band hadn’t started. Gibbs came over, dressed in a white frilled shirt, tight leather trousers and blue suede shoes, and sporting a large peace sign medallion. She was pretty sure it was the same outfit she’d seen him in at the Helen Matthews murder scene.
He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hey, great to see you. How you doing?’
‘Bit of a disastrous day, if I’m honest. Luckily Moran was at the Yard when I got back to the office, so I didn’t have to incur his wrath again by telling him the result of—’
Gibbs put his hand over her mouth to shut her up. ‘Rule one: no job talk tonight; rule two: let your hair down and have a good time; and rule three is: you let me buy you a drink.’
Jane said she’d have a small glass of white wine, but Gibbs came back from the bar with a large one. An attractive girl in her early twenties, with shoulder-length dyed blond hair, came over and stood beside Gibbs. She was wearing a low-cut, figure-hugging short white satin dress and knee-high red leather high-heeled boots.
‘Tamara meet Jane; Jane meet Tamara.’ Gibbs caught Tamara’s eye and touched the side of his nose.
As they shook hands, Jane noticed there was a trace of white powder at the base of Tamara’s right nostril, which she hurriedly wiped off.
‘Sorry, Gibbsey. Nice to meet you, Jane. Gibbsey’s told me a lot about you.’ Tamara’s cut-glass accent was pure Sloane Ranger.
‘Really? What’s Gibbsey been saying?’
Gibbs wagged his finger at Tamara to say nothing but she didn’t seem to notice.
‘That you’re a bit sensitive, but tenacious, with plenty of balls.’
Jane laughed and turned to Gibbs with just a touch of sarcasm. ‘Thank you, Gibbsey, that’s very kind of you to notice. Gibbsey talks about you all the time, Tamara.’ Jane paused to make Gibbs wonder what she was going to say next. From the anxious look on his face, it had worked.
‘And having met you at last, I can see why. You look stunning, just like Debbie Harry.’
‘Well, thank you, Jane, that’s very kind.’ Tamara beamed.
Gibbs looked relieved. ‘We need to get ready and tune up, Tamara.’
‘I just need the loo again. Nice to meet you, Jane. We’ll catch up later.’ She headed off to the toilets.
‘She gets nervous before a gig,’ Gibbs explained.
‘I just hope she doesn’t get you in trouble.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, that wasn’t sherbet dip on the end of her nose, was it?’ Jane said in a hushed voice.
‘It’s just a tiny bit to steady her nerves. And before you ask, I’m not doing any drugs.’
‘If Tamara gets nicked for possession, you could be in serious shit, even out of a job.’
‘It’s OK, she’s a good girl, and I know what I’m doing when it comes to relationships.’ Gibbs made his way through the crowd and onto the stage.
Jane wondered if he’d been having a dig about her past relationships as she watched the band going through a quick sound check and a final tune-up, before launching into Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s ‘You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet.’ Jane got herself a second glass of wine and started to relax, letting the music drive her anxieties about the case from her mind. She was glad that she’d decided to come along and was impressed with the band, who sounded better than she’d imagined. Gibbs had a surprisingly good voice, and as the lead guitarist he didn’t hit a bum note. Tamara was lead singer in the next number, which was Blondie’s ‘Sunday Girl,’ and Jane reckoned when it came to Debbie Harry, she had the voice as well as the looks. She found herself singing along with Tamara as she belted out the lyrics.
The woman standing next to Jane didn’t agree. ‘Spencer’s great on guitar, isn’t he? Pity about the singer, though. She looks more like Diana Dors than Debbie Harry — and sounds more like her, too.’
Jane didn’t recognize her, but her voice was familiar. She was very attractive, mid-thirties, with long blond hair and dressed in a red boob tube, black flared trousers and stilettos. The woman waved at Gibbs to catch his attention, and Jane could see Gibbs looking surprised as he gave her a discreet nod of acknowledgement. Jane had an idea who she was but wanted to be sure.
‘Hi, I’m Jane. I work with Spencer at Peckham.’
‘I’m Jo. We’re just friends. Have they been going long?’
‘Yeah, they’ve done a few numbers.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Jo said, moving closer to the front of the stage.
Jane already suspected Gibbs and Jo Hastings were more than ‘just friends,’ and couldn’t believe Gibbs would be so stupid as to invite her to the gig with Tamara performing alongside him. She wondered if Jo just wanted to surprise Gibbs or if she wanted to find out if he had a girlfriend. Either way, Jane couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
When the band took their break, Tamara went off to the loo again and Gibbs took the opportunity to speak with Jo.
He looked anxious. ‘Hi, Jo. I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t think rock music was your kind of thing.’
She stepped closer, rubbing her body against his. ‘I thought I’d come and see how well you performed... outside the bedroom,’ she said with a brazen smile.
Jane saw Tamara approaching from behind and looked forward to seeing how Gibbs dealt with the situation.
‘Hi again, Jane. Are you enjoying the show?’ Tamara asked, looking the picture of innocence.
‘Yes, thanks, Tamara. Your voice is terrific,’ Jane said enthusiastically.
Jo Hastings frowned. ‘She’s all right, but you should do more solos, Spencer. Can you sing “Kiss You All Over” for me?’ she added with a suggestive smile.
‘I’m sorry, love, I don’t know that song,’ Gibbs said, as if he didn’t know her.
Jo leant forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘I’ll play it for you later, then,’ she said in a seductive voice.
‘Who the fuck’s the geriatric?’ Tamara hissed, glaring at Gibbs.
Gibbs shrugged, as if he had no idea. ‘Come on, we need to get back on stage.’ He grabbed her by the hand, but she pulled away.
‘Are you screwing this trollop?’ Tamara asked loudly.
The people nearby turned and stared, wondering what the commotion was about. Gibbs looked as if he wished the ground beneath his feet would open and swallow him. He knew Jo was a streetwise London girl with a sharp tongue who wouldn’t put up with being insulted like that. But to his and Jane’s surprise, Jo remained calm and collected.