‘Edwards didn’t need to change his clothes, guv. He already looked like a down-and-out,’ one of them quipped, setting off another round of laughter around the room.
Moran glared at them. ‘Stop it, the lot of you, and listen up. After consulting with a forensic odontologist, I believe the dismembered body is that of Aiden Lang. As DI Gibbs briefed you earlier, our prime suspect is now the dentist David Simmonds. However, the evidence that Simmonds killed him, and the three female victims, is weak and circumstantial. If we want to nail him, we need hard evidence. To that end, Edwards here has volunteered to go undercover.’
There was a ripple of applause, and Edwards visibly relaxed.
‘Where did he get the clothes?’ Jane asked Lawrence quietly.
Lawrence chuckled. ‘As luck would have it, there was a down-and-out drunk in the cells. He was happy to get a few quid and a tracksuit in exchange for his clothes.’
Moran continued. ‘It’s likely Simmonds suspects WDS Tennison is on to him. However, DCS Blake has spoken with him on the phone. Simmonds has been told Tennison is off the case and being investigated by A10 for breach of police regulations and an illegal search of the Peckham dental premises. Hopefully Simmonds now thinks Tennison’s career is over and he’s in the clear.’
‘Do you think Simmonds will fall for it, guv?’ a detective asked.
Moran nodded. ‘As it’s come from Blake, yes. They’re... members of the same golf club, so hopefully Simmonds will believe what he’s told.’
There were a few raised eyebrows around the room, but no one asked exactly what the relationship was between Blake and Simmonds.
Moran put his hand on Edwards’ shoulder. ‘Edwards is going to the Peckham surgery under the pretext of a bad toothache. I’m hoping to rattle Simmonds’ cage a little. Hopefully it’ll provoke him into doing something that will lead us to the evidence we need to arrest him on suspicion of murder.’
‘What if he rumbles I’m Old Bill?’ Edwards asked anxiously.
‘If you play your part right, he won’t. But even if he does, Simmonds won’t risk arrest by harming a police officer. We’re putting a wire on you as well, to record everything he says.’
Gibbs held up a covert microphone. ‘Slip your jumper off so I can put this on you.’
Edwards started to panic. ‘No! No, wait a minute, I’m not sure I can do this.’
Gibbs just grinned. ‘Come on, Edwards. You can do this. And who knows, there might be a promotion in it for you if you can get Simmonds to spill the beans.’
Moran stepped in. ‘Just cut all this bullshit and get on with wiring him up, Spence.’
Edwards reluctantly pulled up his grubby jumper. ‘It’s just that dentists scare the shit out of me, guv.’
‘By your own admission you haven’t been to one in ages, so you’re bound to need some work done. That’s what we need. All you have to do is fake a bit of toothache, then ask Simmonds if he’ll take a look,’ Moran assured him.
Gibbs tightened the strap of the listening device across Edwards’ chest. ‘Simmonds made a name for himself treating the homeless. He’ll welcome you with open arms.’
Edwards frowned. ‘I won’t be able to say much if I’ve got my mouth wide open and he’s sticking things in it.’
Moran patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine. If Simmonds says you need fillings, just say you’ll think about it and leave.’
‘We’ve got officers in observation vans and unmarked cars. We’ll all be listening in and ready to tail Simmonds,’ Gibbs added.
‘You know what you got to say?’ Moran asked.
‘Yes, guv, you been over it with me five times already,’ Edwards sighed. ‘Engage Simmonds in conversation about Aiden Lang and the Peckham murders and the search of the hostel.’
‘And the code if you’re in trouble?’ Moran asked.
‘Use a sentence with the word red in it,’ Edwards replied.
Gibbs held his hand up. ‘Can I have a bit of silence, please?’ He nodded to the surveillance officer in the far corner of the room. ‘You ready for a test?’
The officer held his hand up and put on a headset, which he plugged into a radio on the table.
‘OK, Edwards, give us a sample of your best South London accent,’ Gibbs said.
‘My name is Michael Caine,’ Edwards said in flat voice.
The surveillance officer gave the thumbs up to acknowledge he’d received the transmission.
‘Right, then, we’re good to go.’ Gibbs patted Edwards on the shoulder.
‘I need the loo first,’ Edwards said sheepishly.
‘Pee in your pants — it’ll go with the disguise,’ a detective shouted.
There was a chorus of laughter, followed by more applause for Edwards.
Jane didn’t join in. Instead, her face wore a look of concern. From her experience at the Peckham surgery, Edwards was not going to have an easy time.
Half an hour later, Edwards nervously approached Simmonds’ Peckham surgery. Although he’d done a sound test before leaving the station, he now had no way of knowing for sure if his colleagues were still receiving him. It was too risky to wear any form of earpiece to receive calls. He looked at his watch, then, knowing everything was being recorded for evidential purposes, lowered his head and spoke quietly into the covert listening device attached to his chest.
‘It’s four thirty p.m... Monday twenty-sixth of February 1979... I’m outside sixty-one Brayards Road, SE15.’ Edwards took a deep breath, rang the doorbell and held his hand to his right cheek, as if he was in pain. He waited, then rang the doorbell again. ‘Christ, I don’t think he’s in.’
A few seconds later, Simmonds opened the door wearing a white dental coat.
‘Me name’s George Jenkins. I’m from the hostel up the road. I heard you could sort me toof ache out for noffin.’ Edwards did his best to sound as if he was in pain.
Simmonds invited him inside. ‘I’ll have a look and see what I can do to help. You’ll have to wait until I finish with my current patient, though.’
‘I’ll wait all night if you can fix it.’ Edwards moaned.
Simmonds showed him into the lounge. ‘Can you read and write, George?’
Edwards nodded. ‘Just about.’
Simmonds handed him a personal details form and pen. ‘I’ll need you to fill this out, please. Help yourself to coffee or tea from the kitchen. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’
Simmonds returned to his surgery room and Edwards started to fill out the form. He suddenly heard the unmistakable high-pitched whirr of the dental drill, and just managed to stop himself swearing out loud. He made himself a coffee and went to sit in the lounge, enduring a nervous twenty minutes before Simmonds ushered his previous patient out of the door and invited Edwards into the surgery.
Edwards cautiously sat down in the dental chair.
‘Do you live here in Peckham?’ Simmonds asked.
‘Not exactly. I’ve been homeless for almost a year. But I’ve got a meeting about benefits, so I can get off of the streets.’
‘So you’ve been living rough, then?’
‘Nah, I’ve been in a down-and-outs hostel but I’ve been warned about staying there because of all them murders round here.’
‘Yes, it’s very sad.’ Simmonds used the foot pump to raise the dental chair.
‘The Old Bill was all over the hostel after they found that woman’s body in some bloke’s room.’
Simmonds made the chair recline. ‘I’m sure. Well, let’s hope they catch whoever did it. I feel so sorry for the families who’ve lost a loved one.’