She gave Hall the nod to carry on, while she took off her raincoat and tried to get her brain in gear.
“Parker-Jones owns a number of bed and breakfast stroke hotel stroke houses, under the company name ‘Protega.’ Mostly for children in local authority care.” Hall referred to his notes. “As a registered charity he’s got a staff of four, one administrator and two youth workers. Annual running costs of around one hundred and twenty thousand. He’s on a number of grants, one hundred and sixty grand from Camden, another one from Westminster Council, that’s for advice and support…”
Dalton came over and stood by Tennison’s elbow. With one ear on the briefing, Tennison said, “They’re still keeping you on, are they?”
“… he’s also got another fat one from London Boroughs Grants Committee,” Hall was saying. “Added to all the grants, Parker-Jones receives from the local authorities a hundred and ten pounds per person. So far we’ve got eighteen registered to one house, another twelve in Hackney, and the one in Camden has eight.”
He carried on, giving more details, as the team made notes and asked for a point of clarification now and then. The PA bing-bong chimed out. “DCI Tennison to Superintendent Halliday’s office immediately, please.”
Tennison glanced up to the Tannoy, a strange fierce light in her eyes. “This is it! I think it’s charge or pull the rug time.”
Dalton put his hand on her arm. “The doctor attached to the Calloway Centre, Cardiff. His widow, Joyce Ellis, two sons, aged fifty-two, in 1987 married John Kennington.”
Tennison gave him a crooked grin. “What’s this? Changing sides, are you?”
Bing-bong.
“DCI Tennison please return to her office immediately.”
Dalton also looked to the Tannoy. “He doesn’t know.”
“Thank you,” Tennison said, squeezing his arm. She headed to the door. Otley was there, beckoning urgently.
Tennison walked past him. “I know, Halliday wants me.”
“Commander’s with him!” Otley hissed.
She pushed through into the corridor, not waiting to see if he was relishing this or not, and caring even less.
Halliday was standing in front of her desk and Chiswick was sitting in her chair. The Commander had a crabbed look on his face, his small mouth tight and hard. He didn’t give her time to shut the door.
“You have not one shred of evidence against Parker-Jones and his involvement in the death of-”
“Colin Jenkins?” Halliday edged out of the way as Tennison came forward, all fired up, ready for a showdown. “No, I haven’t got him to admit his involvement, but I know he’s covering up for Jackson and possibly for John Kennington.”
“Drop it!” Chiswick said, icy quiet.
“Are you serious? In 1979 and again in 1986 both John Kennington and Edward Parker-Jones…”
Chiswick made a brusque sweep of the hand. “I am fully aware of the cases you are referring to.”
“Then you should have made whatever information you had available to me!” Tennison said angrily. “I have wasted a considerable-”
“Waste being the operative word, Chief Inspector. You were supposed to be investigating the murder of-”
She was sick of his interrupting. It was her turn.
“The murder of Colin Jenkins. But if-if-I also discover evidence that proves Edward Parker-Jones…”
The bastard did it again.
“This is not the Colin Jenkins case.”
“… is unfit to be awarded massive grants from four different councils, and is a possible pedophile…”
“Is this true?” Halliday asked Chiswick, but the Commander had no time for noncombatants. His sights were fixed on Tennison. It was a double-headed contest, two boxers slugging it out, attempting by sheer weight of punches to batter their opponent to the canvas.
“Chief Inspector Tennison, you give me no option but to warn you, that if you continue to investigate persons-”
“Persons?” Tennison was in like a flash. “One Edward Parker-Jones?”
“-against specific instructions, then disciplinary action will be taken.”
Tennison took a deep breath and slugged on. “You take it, sir, and I will fight you every inch of the way.” Her eyes flashed. She wasn’t just angry now, she was blazing mad. “I have been fobbed off with ‘stay clear of this or that person because of,’ and I quote, ‘repercussions to this department.’ Well, this department has blatantly attempted to cover up my investigation into a murder, which has direct links to a pedophile ring-members of that said ring, and one member, John Kennington, who has been under a full-scale internal inquiry!”
“John Kennington was reinstated,” Chiswick said, his voice trembling as he struggled to retain his composure.
“Yes-but six months later he’s being blackmailed! The case never even got to court. What happened, everybody get cold feet, so retire him?” Tennison was filled with contempt. She was cutting in deep and raw, but what the hell, these were spineless excuses for officers charged with enforcing law and order. She thumped the desk, and Chiswick visibly jerked back.
“Retire him,” Tennison raged on, “pay him off, and when another investigation touches on it… John Kennington is still alive, Colin Jenkins is dead.”
“Just calm down,” Chiswick said, raising his hand. “Look at it from our side, my side, the investigation into John Kennington-”
“Failed… and to the tune of over one and a half million. Next, Operation Contract!” Tennison shook her head, smiling bitterly. “How much did that set the Government back? You knew there was a leak-well, was it John Kennington?”
“Be very careful what you are insinuating,” Chiswick warned her solemnly, playing the Senior Figure in Authority card.
Tennison closed her eyes for a second, breathing in deeply. She pressed her palms together. “All I want is to find the killer of Colin Jenkins. If it touches on Parker-Jones or anyone else, then that’s the way it’s got to be.” She faced him squarely, looking him straight in the eyes. “You can lay it all on my shoulders. I take full responsibility. But I will not be anybody’s scapegoat, and if you pull me off this case now, I won’t go quietly.”
Chiswick stared balefully at her across the desk. “Don’t make threats, Detective Chief Inspector.”
He rose ponderously to his feet and jerked his head to Halliday, indicating that the interview was at an end. As they reached the door, Tennison said coolly:
“I’d like to be put forward for the Superintendent vacancy on the AMIT Area Five. I am very confident that I’ll make an arrest for the Colin Jenkins murder this weekend, and therefore, with the case closed, it will be unnecessary for me to continue any further investigation into John Kennington’s connection with Colin Jenkins.”
The two men were standing stock-still. They were both trying, as best they could, to take on board what Tennison had said.
Commander Chiswick opened the door and went out, stooping, not looking back. Halliday went meekly after him, pausing for a look at Tennison that was both guarded and puzzled before quietly closing the door.
Tennison heard them enter the next door office. She heard the rumble of voices through the wall. She closed her eyes and slowly sank back, needing the solid desk to support her.
Vera extended her tongue, delicately picked something off it, and wiped it on the handkerchief in her lap. She puffed on her cigarette and batted the smoke away. With soulful, heavy-lidded eyes she watched as Tennison took the packet of cigarettes, extracted one, and put it between her lips.
“You got a light?”
Vera struck a match and Tennison leaned toward the flame.
“Did James Jackson kill Connie?”