Tennison Read Free Page A

your hat as a cushion? You look like a drowned rat, you’ve got a filthy face, and what’s that all over your hands?’
    ‘Mud, Sergeant, from picking up potatoes.’
    He leaned forward, his face close to hers. ‘Don’t be funny with me, Tennison.’
    ‘I was helping an elderly lady and—’
    ‘I don’t want to hear it. I’ve got officers helping the CID with a dead body, one who’s gone sick and I’ve had to post someone else to your beat. And to top it all, I’m havin’ to answer the duty desk phone and deal with the public at the front counter myself. I should be directing, not doing, Tennison.’
    ‘Sorry, Sergeant. Can I still go on patrol?’
    ‘No, you missed your chance by being late. I expect better, Tennison, and this incident won’t go unnoticed on your next probationer’s report. Now, get your backside into the comms room and help Morgan out. All the incoming message forms from the weekend and this morning need to be filed away.’
    Jane scurried into the small stuffy communications room where WPC Kathleen Morgan was on the phone speaking to a member of the public, recording the details on an incident message pad. She smiled, gave a wave and mouthed ‘Hello’ to Jane, who waved back.
    Kathleen, or Kath as she was commonly known, was a curvaceous brunette with hazel eyes and thick, unruly, curly hair. She had a habit of wearing too much make-up, contrary to police regulations that stated it should be ‘subtle and discreet’, but she didn’t care and was more than capable of coping with her male colleagues’ flippant or derogatory remarks. She would stand firm, hands on her hips, ready for any of the macho banter:
    ‘You’ve got too much lipstick on, Morgan.’
    ‘Oh really? Well, kiss it off then – that is if your belly can even let you get that close.’
    Kath was twenty-six and had joined the police aged nineteen. She was a London girl from Canning Town and was used to the chauvinistic ways of many of her male counterparts. She took no stick from anyone. She was the only other woman on ‘B Relief’ with Jane, and had shown her the ropes from day one.
    The teleprinter in the corner was clicking away and rolling off messages from Scotland Yard and other stations. Beside two wooden desks, facing each other, was a small telephone switchbox with a radio communications set. On the desk where Kath was sitting was the latest piece of technology, a visual display unit computer, or VDU as it was commonly known. It allowed fast access to centrally held records at Scotland Yard, including information on stolen or suspect vehicles, wanted or missing persons and registered-vehicle owners. The wall adjacent to the desks was covered with collator’s cards showing pictures and details of local wanted criminals and those suspected of habitual and recent crimes. Next to these were a number of missing persons appeal leaflets.
    ‘Jane, can you check the teleprinter for any urgent messages while I put this call out to one of the panda cars?’ Kathleen asked and Jane nodded.
    ‘Panda Five Two, can you attend the scene of a suspect’s disturbed break-in at 22 Wick Lane . . . Golf Hotel, over.’
    ‘Five Two received and on way,’ the reply came over the loudspeaker.
    ‘I’m sorry I was late, Kath.’
    ‘No problem, darlin’ – what kept you?’
    Jane started to give a condensed version of the earlier events, causing Kath to laugh out loud when she told her about the apples and potatoes rolling into the road.
    ‘I dunno, Jane, it always happens to you, don’t it?’
    ‘I thought she was going to faint, so I ended up taking her home to Ashburn House on—’
    Kath raised her eyebrows and interjected. ‘The Pembridge Estate, another of Hackney’s delightful areas.’
    ‘Actually her flat was surprisingly well furnished and the kitchen had some really new appliances. She must’ve got the stuff from the Green Shield Stamps catalogue.’
    Kath looked bemused. ‘What sort of stuff?’
    ‘A