‘Why? What does he want?’ she asked, worried she was going to be reprimanded, or worse made a scapegoat.
‘Search me, but get a move on — he doesn’t like to be left waiting.’
The bank robbery investigation was being led by DCS Metcalf who had to compile an in-depth report detailing the full extent of the tragedy that surrounded Operation Hawk. Jane had escaped being questioned by A10, but an interview with Metcalf was worse. She headed to the office that Bradfield had previously occupied, refusing to remember the last time she’d seen him behind that very desk.
Metcalf was flicking through a thick file as she sat down opposite him, waiting nervously and wondering why he had called her in.
‘Now, I have it formally noted by the late DCI Bradfield that you recognized the deceased John Bentley’s voice from a recording made by a young boy called Ashley Brennan. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir, I went to Brennan’s home address and—’
‘I am aware of how you came to be in possession of the tape,’ he interrupted, and continued to read through the file.
‘Initially you had been helping Bentley’s mother after an asthma attack, correct?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jane said, realizing it was best to keep her answers brief.
‘That was very commendable and thoughtful of you, and somewhat fortunate for DCI Bradfield and the commencement of Operation Hawk,’ he said, and smiled.
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that as I was just doing my job.’
‘Nevertheless you apparently stuck to your guns when it was suggested that you may have been mistaken about it being John Bentley’s voice.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. I like to see WPCs on probation proving to be confident, and being able to recall someone’s voice after only a few brief moments is quite exceptional.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Jane said, feeling he was being overindulgent and wondering why.
He flicked to another page in the file and looked her in the eye before continuing.
‘DCI Bradfield quite rightly set up surveillance on the Bentley family and your observation about the voice on the tape proved to be correct. As the team indexer you were also responsible for typing up all the officers’ reports, including those made by DCI Bradfield and DS Gibbs?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I was wondering, were you ever aware of, or privy to, a report that was allegedly made by DS Gibbs concerning dangerous-gas tanks used for cutting metal, which he saw in the basement of the café?’
Jane realized he was asking her a leading question and hoped she was about to give the answer he wanted to hear.
‘No, sir,’ she lied without a flinch or blink.
He gave her a satisfied smile. ‘Good, I was obviously misinformed. I’m not keen to take this matter further as I suspected it was a malicious rumour. Thankfully you have confirmed that for me, but please keep it between us.’
He glanced up and closed the file, then gave a short nod as he stood up to shake her hand.
‘I am confident that you have a good career ahead of you, WPC Tennison. I have taken note of your professionalism and will happily give you a personal recommendation should you wish to apply for CID at the end of your probation.’
As she left the room Jane now knew for certain that an internal cover-up had been going on. She did recall writing up a report regarding the concerns raised about the gas tanks by DS Gibbs, and knew that it would now have been removed from the case file and destroyed. Metcalf was obviously worried that Bradfield’s failure to contemplate the risks in Operation Hawk had resulted in the carnage and loss of life that followed the explosion, but that would have been an embarrassment for him and the police force as a whole.
Metcalf had obviously seen her as a weak link, but her meeting with him was yet another learning curve. Whether or not she approved didn’t matter, she was in no position to question the outcome Metcalf and the top brass desired, not if she valued her future career. She smiled to herself and thought Kath would also have kept silent.
It was somehow a relief that when she returned to the front desk, Sergeant Harris was his usual blunt self. Pointedly he looked at his wristwatch.
‘I’ll excuse you for not being back here on time, but then of course you were with the top brass. Everything go well with Metcalf?’
‘Yes, Sarge, he mentioned...’
He stood straight and wagged his finger.
‘Don’t want to know. Life goes on, Tennison, that’s all you’ve got to know.’
There seemed to be no way anyone would ever talk about what had happened on that terrible day. No one wanted to show their feelings. Jane found it impossible to share her deep pain, and that was the way it would remain.
The aftermath
Kath’s parents had requested a small personal funeral which was attended by some of the officers she had worked with at the station. They all wore their best uniforms and white gloves, with the detectives in smart suits, white shirts and black ties. It had been a quiet, simple, but moving service and many present had openly cried as Kath had been such a well-liked officer. Jane had forced herself to remain in control of her emotions, but when the organist played ‘Nights In White Satin’ as the service ended, she nearly broke down. She remembered laughing with Kath as she joined in singing the song with Gibbs outside the men’s shower room. She also recalled how Kath had joked with Spencer about playing the same song at her funeral. Seeing Gibbs standing straight-backed, his face etched with pain, Jane knew he was remembering her too. Kath would be hard to forget. Jane had learned so much from her and knew she would always remember her warmth and compassion.
After the service, DS Gibbs introduced Jane to a tall, attractive woman who had been very distressed throughout the funeral service, openly weeping. Gibbs confused Jane as he had referred to the woman as Kath’s partner.
‘She spoke very warmly of you, Jane. It’s nice to meet you.’
‘She was a good friend, I will miss her.’
‘Yes, she was a very special woman.’
Kath had never mentioned her partner and it was some time before Jane realized what their relationship had been. It dawned on her just how little she had really known about Kath’s private life. She now realized Kath’s jovial remarks about good-looking men had been a necessary front to hide her sexuality, from an all too often sexist and homophobic police force.
Gibbs picked up Jane’s puzzled expression although she had covered it quickly.
‘So now you know. I loved that woman, and if she wanted her private life kept that way, that was her business, but there’s one thing I want sorted. The lipstick on the dummy’s gob, when I had to do the first-aid crap, it was bloody Kath, wasn’t it?’
Jane felt the tears welling up and she nodded.
‘I knew it... Christ, I am going to miss her.’
‘Me too, she was getting you back for the Vicks-up-the-nose joke at the post-mortem.’
He turned away, because like Jane, he was near to tears.
Bradfield’s funeral was organized by his widow and Spencer Gibbs. She had chosen the hymns and readings and he had spent hours preparing the eulogy he had been asked, and was honoured, to give. Sergeant Harris and other uniform officers of all ranks lined the streets and as the funeral cortège passed they stood to attention and saluted in their pristine white gloves. Many mourners came from the stations that Bradfield had worked at during his career as well as members of the public, some who didn’t even know him, yet who wanted to pay their respects. Every aisle and pew inside the church was full and officers stood shoulder to shoulder at the back of the church. Bradfield’s coffin was draped in the Metropolitan Police flag and his colleagues, led by DS Gibbs and DS Paul Lawrence, carried the coffin to the altar.