Линда Ла Плант - Good Friday

In March 1976, Jane Tennison successfully completed her ten-week CID course at Hendon and returned to Bow Street, whilst awaiting a transfer to another station as a fully fledged detective constable. DI Gibbs had moved on, but she was still under the strict, watchful eye of DCI Shepherd, nicknamed ‘Timex’ due to his almost obsessive timekeeping schedules.

It wasn’t long before Jane’s posting as a DC came through and to her dismay she was offered a place at Hackney. She requested a private discussion with Shepherd to ask if she could remain at Bow Street. Although she knew that he could be tricky and controlling, she nevertheless admired his tenacity.

Shepherd knew, intuitively, the reason behind Jane’s appeal. Several officers who had been stationed at Hackney at the time of the abortive bank raid, which had tragically killed DCI Leonard Bradfield and WPC Kath Morgan, had been transferred. Jane gave no reason for her request, but encouraged by her previous performance at Bow Street, DCI Shepherd agreed that she could return there.

Jane was in a catch-22 situation. Although Shepherd had agreed for her to remain with the CID at Bow Street, he gave her very little opportunity to prove herself and she was becoming increasingly frustrated. She was due to attend a court appearance for a drunk driver. Usually this kind of case would have been handled by a uniformed officer, but Jane had been driving an unmarked CID car when the drunk driver had driven straight into the back of it. He had been belligerent and quite abusive.

On arriving at the court she was annoyed to find that there was a backlog of cases being heard, so she went to get herself a coffee. As she headed back to the waiting room she was almost sent flying by a DC bounding through the door.

‘God, I’m sorry,’ said DC Brian Edwards, then, recognising her, gave a wide smile.

‘Jane! It’s good to see you!’

‘Hello, Brian. You got a case here this morning as well?’

‘Yeah, Flying Squad job. Committal hearing on a three-hander for armed robbery.’

‘You’re on the Flying Squad?’ Jane tried to hide her surprise. Edwards was young, and almost as inexperienced as she was.

‘Yeah, it’s completely changed my life. The blokes on the squad are a great bunch of guys. We work all over London investigating armed robberies. The adrenaline buzz when you nick an armed blagger on the pavement is incredible.’

‘Congratulations! I must say, you look good.’

Edwards had always been rather untidy and scruffy looking, with his thick curly hair worn long, and his shirt always hanging out of his trousers. Now he was wearing a trendy leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and dark trousers with side-zipper boots.

‘Are there any women on the Flying Squad?’ Jane asked.

‘No way. I doubt they’d ever bring in a woman. It’s tough work, Jane, and we get results.’ Before she could respond to his arrogance and chauvinism, Edwards glanced at his watch, ‘So, what’re you here for?’

‘Just a traffic offence. A drunk bloke rammed into me whilst I was driving the CID car.’

Edwards laughed. He turned to look over at two men dressed in similar clothing to him, as one gestured for him to join them.

‘See y’around,’ Edwards said, as he sauntered over to them.

By the time Jane got to the CID office three hours later she was in a foul mood. Edith, the CID’s clerical officer, who had worked alongside Jane since she started at Bow Street, smiled warmly when she saw her.

‘Everything go all right in court?’

‘Yes. Guilty, banned for two years and a hefty fine. When you think how much paperwork I had to do to get him into court… He wore a smart suit and tie and said it was out of character, blah, blah… Considering the lip he gave me, he got off lightly.’

‘Well, you’ve got a load of shoplifting crime sheets on your desk from DCI Shepherd. There’s been a slew of clothes nicked from Oxford Street stores today.’

‘Shoplifters? That’s a uniform crime investigation, not CID!’

‘Not when they all happened within an hour of each other. Shepherd reckons it’s an organised gang who sell the stolen goods on market stalls.’

‘Well, that sounds a lot more interesting than the stuff I usually investigate.’

Edith sipped her tea. ‘He wants you to get statements from all the shops, and an inventory of exactly what was stolen, along with the value.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jane muttered.

‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ Edith retorted, resuming her typing.

Jane began to sift through the crime sheets and statements on her own desk. ‘I met DC Brian Edwards at court. Remember him from the Susie Luna murder?’ Edith looked blank. ‘The rapist, Peter Allard? He got a life sentence, and—’

‘Oh yes, I remember. Long time ago, now… Over a year…’

‘Edwards is on the Flying Squad now.’

‘Really?’

‘He said they never take women on the Squad.’

‘Well, I doubt any decent woman would want to be on it.’ Edith’s tone sharpened. ‘They’re a bunch of chauvinistic bastards! Ever since that TV series came out, The Professionals , they act like they’re film stars, the lot of them, think they’re God’s gift… There’ve been a lot of unpleasant rumours about corruption, too, but far be it from me to name names…’

Jane processed the Oxford Street reports for the rest of the day, drawing up charts of the shops, times of the thefts and a description of the suspects. She then filed everything methodically, just as DCI Shepherd liked, but she was finished by three thirty. She sat drumming her fingers on her empty desk and at four o’clock decided she would approach DCI Shepherd. It was ridiculous that she was sitting around when she was now qualified to investigate more serious cases.

She knocked on his office door and waited.

‘Come in.’

Jane walked in and stood by his desk. Shepherd gave her a cursory glance.

‘What is it, Tennison?’ Shepherd’s pale blue eyes and boyish looks belied not only his age but also his professionalism.

‘May I speak freely, sir?’

‘Yes, of course. Sit down.’

She drew a chair up in front of his desk.

‘I don’t feel that my time here is being utilised properly. I’ve gained a lot of experience since I’ve been here, and I know that you are aware of my participation in previous cases — like the apparently non-suspicious death that resulted in two murder convictions.’

Shepherd didn’t answer right away. He paused for a moment, then picked up his fountain pen, unscrewed the top, examined the nib, then slowly screwed it back together. ‘Yes, of course, I am aware of the case you are referring to… Katrina Harcourt and… er, Barry Dawson… correct?’

‘Yes, sir. I was also part of the investigation of the rapist Peter Allard when the body of Susie Luna was discovered, and—’

‘Yes, Tennison, I’m more than aware of those investigations, and the part you played in them. But I don’t see why you’re bringing them up now, all these months later?’

‘Sir, I’m grateful that you agreed for me to return to Bow Street but now that I’ve passed my CID course and been made detective I’m concerned that my training is not being used to its full potential.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir. I was wondering if there was any possibility that I could apply for a transfer to the Flying Squad?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘Tennison, with your length of service and experience there is absolutely no possibility of your being transferred to the Flying Squad. You are welcome to apply but I doubt the application would be taken seriously. But let me think about what you’ve said and we can talk in due course about some possible alternatives.’