Jane had a sudden flashback to the moment Simmonds surprised her in the bedroom at Brayards Road. She had been so anxious, she hadn’t taken in the significance of the fishing photo before she dropped it. Simmonds had been wearing a tweed cap, matching tweed jacket, waistcoat and trousers.
‘What was the outcome of the social services interview with Simon Matthews?’ a detective asked.
Moran looked at Jane. ‘Tennison?’
Jane didn’t hear him. She was picturing Simmonds standing over her in his mother’s bedroom holding the syringe. A cold shudder ran through her body.
‘I think she’s on another planet, sir,’ the detective quipped.
Moran nodded at Lawrence. ‘Wake Tennison up, Paul.’
Lawrence was about to give her a nudge with his elbow when Jane came back to the moment, knowing she had to share what she had just found out.
‘I saw a photograph of Simmonds this morning, sir. He was wearing a three-piece tweed suit. I’m almost certain the jacket was the same one found in Aiden Lang’s hostel room.’
‘Christ, she’s off again,’ Edwards whispered to Gibbs.
‘What on earth are you on about now, Tennison?’ Moran asked.
Jane looked agitated. ‘We might be wrong about Lang being a lone killer. For some reason, Simmonds has repeatedly lied to me. I can also prove he and Sybil Hastings were friends!’
For a moment there was a stunned silence in the room. Then Moran gave full vent to his anger.
‘I want to know exactly what you’ve been doing behind my back!’
Jane tried to stay calm. ‘Can I speak with you in your office, please, sir?’
‘No! You’ll explain yourself here and now!’ Moran barked.
Before she could answer, DCS Blake strode into the room. ‘Moran, I need to speak to you in private.’
‘I haven’t finished my meeting,’ Moran snapped, incensed by Blake’s interruption. ‘Carry on, Tennison.’
‘It’s not a request, Moran, it’s an order,’ Blake retorted. He glared at Jane and pointed his finger at her. ‘You as well, Tennison.’
Feeling herself coloring, Jane followed Blake to Moran’s office. As soon as the door was closed, Blake turned on her.
‘What were you doing snooping around David Simmonds’ dental clinic?’
Jane realized Simmonds must have phoned Blake as soon as she’d left. And it made her more convinced he was hiding something.
Moran looked bemused. ‘You were at Harley Street this morning, Tennison?’
‘No,’ Blake told him. ‘She was at Simmonds’ Peckham clinic and he caught her upstairs rummaging around in his dead mother’s bedroom. He wanted to make a formal complaint. Fortunately, I persuaded him to let me deal with it.’
Moran’s expression darkened. ‘What on earth were you playing at, Tennison?’
Jane knew she had no choice now. She had to tell them everything.
‘I was looking for evidence.’
‘Evidence of what?’ Blake shouted.
‘I believe David Simmonds is connected to the murders of the three women and—’
Blake’s eyes widened with anger. ‘David Simmonds is a personal friend. He’s highly respected in his profession and absolutely above reproach.’
Jane stood her ground. ‘He may be highly respected, sir, but he’s a liar. I know he’s been hiding something—’
Blake jabbed his finger at Jane. ‘You’ve lost your mind, Tennison!’
Jane looked at Moran in desperation. ‘Believe me, sir, I’m not wrong this time. I didn’t want to say anything to you until I found some evidence to back up my suspicions — and now I have. Please hear me out.’
Blake was at boiling point. ‘I’ve had enough, Tennison. As from right now, you’re off the investigation. You should be thanking me for persuading Simmonds not to make an official complaint about you.’
Jane decided to go for broke. ‘I suggest your thoughts about Mr. Simmonds are clouded by bias, sir.’
Moran shook his head, silently pleading with Jane to shut up.
‘I could have you kicked out the force for an illegal search, not to mention insubordination. Now get out of my sight!’ Blake ordered.
Jane didn’t move. ‘Simmonds is your dentist as well as a friend, isn’t he?’
‘You really are pushing your luck, Tennison. Simmonds is a member at my golf club, but not my dentist.’
‘I saw you coming out of his Harley Street surgery last Thursday morning.’
‘You’re mistaken, Tennison. I’m afraid I couldn’t afford Harley Street dental prices.’
Blake’s blatant lie only served to fire Jane up further. ‘The receptionist told me you had a toothache. She also said Simmonds doesn’t charge friends his normal rates. I got the distinct impression you were a regular there. In fact, she said you’re often quite flirtatious towards her,’ Jane added calmly.
Blake glared at her, finally lost for words.
Moran now saw which way the wind was blowing and changed tack. ‘Accepting a gratuity is against police regulations and a disciplinary offence.’
Blake started to squirm. ‘The receptionist is wrong. It was a one-off. I was in a lot of pain and Simmonds kindly said he’d treat me, that’s all.’
Moran could smell blood. ‘So you won’t be on Simmonds’ records as a regular patient — or have illegally claimed back any private dental treatment fees?’
‘This is not about me, Moran; it’s about Tennison. She’s a loose cannon. Her search of Simmonds’ Peckham practice is not acceptable behavior. She’s off the investigation and that’s an end to it.’ Blake turned towards the door.
Moran stopped him in his tracks. ‘You lied for Andrew Hastings. But I still had the decency to hear you out, so I suggest you do the same for Tennison.’
More than a little surprised at his firmness, Jane gave Moran a grateful nod.
Blake stopped and looked at his watch. ‘This better be worth my time, Tennison.’
There was a knock at the door and Lawrence entered, carrying a folder that he handed to Moran. ‘The forensics update report,’ he explained.
‘Thank you, DS Lawrence, but we’re busy,’ Blake said tersely.
Moran closed the door. ‘Lawrence stays. He’s dealt with all the crime scenes, so he needs to hear what Jane has to say.’
‘If you say so,’ said Blake begrudgingly.
Moran looked at her. ‘Go on, Jane.’
She took a deep breath and began. ‘David Simmonds treated Simon Matthews at his Peckham clinic, not Harley Street as he’d suggested. In fact, he never even mentioned he had another practice in Peckham.’
Blake looked unimpressed. ‘How is that in any way suspicious?’
‘I believe Simmonds didn’t want us snooping around his Peckham practice. It was only by chance I found out.’
‘It’s common knowledge he works there on a Monday and Friday. He’s even received an award for his charitable work.’
‘It may be to his patients and golfing friends, but I wasn’t aware of it,’ Moran interjected. ‘Carry on, Jane.’
‘I believe Helen Matthews thought her son was being sexually abused by Simmonds—’
‘Are you seriously suggesting Simmonds is a pedophile?’ Blake spluttered.
‘No. I’m suggesting Helen Matthews thought he was when Simon told her he didn’t like the dentist touching him. I think Helen was angry, which explains why she left her mother’s flat in a hurry without saying where she was going. This was late afternoon on the Friday she was murdered. It makes sense she went to confront Simmonds. Think about it: why else would she be in Peckham that day?’
‘Do you have any physical or eyewitness evidence she went there?’ Moran asked.
‘No. But her body was found a stone’s throw from the Peckham clinic — as was Sybil Hastings in the boot of her own car.’