Chapter 11
Every weekday morning at 7 o'clock, Muriel Jeffers went downstairs to prepare her husband's breakfast. It wasn't a burden. Clive was a good husband and she adored him as much as when they'd first met. With the children grown and out of the house, Muriel and Clive had settled into a very comfortable routine, including having breakfast together.
She was in the middle of making the coffee when there was a knock at the front door. It was unusual for visitors so early – unless they were police officers needing the Chief. Muriel went to the door. A tall man wearing a black coat was there. Muriel opened the door.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Mrs. Jeffers." The officer smiled. "Very sorry to disturb you so early in the day. I'm DI William Kane." He held up a warrant card. "Might I see Chief Jeffers? It's quite urgent."
Muriel had never heard her husband mention the name; but with the recent upheaval at Fenchurch East, Clive might have neglected telling her about a new Detective Inspector. The way he spoke was very much like her husband.
"Of course, DI Kane," she replied. "Please come in."
"Oh. That's very kind of you, but I can wait here. I don't want you to go to any trouble."
He was very polite. The same quiet, mannerly way of her Clive. "I'm sure that it will be fine," she said, stepping aside to allow him in. Kane entered the hallway and she closed the door. "Chief Jeffers will be down in a moment."
"Thank you, Mrs. Jeffers."
She was about to return to the kitchen but turned back. "Why don't you come through? I can get you a cup of coffee."
The DI smiled. "That would be nice," he said. "I could do with a cup. Didn't get much sleep last night. Working on a case." He followed her into the kitchen and took the chair she indicated. Muriel poured some coffee for Kane and gave him the sugar and cream.
"I'll see if my husband is coming down soon," she said.
Jeffers was brushing his hair when his wife returned to the bedroom. "Clive, dear," she said, "there's a DI Kane downstairs to see you. He said it's urgent."
"Kane?" Jeffers repeated. "I don't remember a DI Kane."
"I saw his warrant card," Muriel told him. "Detective Inspector William Kane."
Jeffers felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What does he look like?"
Muriel shrugged. "Tall. Broad shouldered. In his 40s. Light hair. Blue eyes. Funny thing. He's wearing cowboy boots." Before she'd finished speaking, her husband was at the door.
"Stay here," he said.
"What's wrong?"
The Chief paused. "I'm sure everything is all right, but we're in the middle of a very sensitive case. DI – um -- Kane and I need to talk about it. Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart."
**********
Gene heard the Chief running down the stairs. He smiled to himself and got up to pour another cup of coffee. When Jeffers entered the room, the DCI was leaning against the counter.
"Morning, Chief Superintendent," Gene greeted. "Can I get you a cup of coffee? It's very good."
Jeffers was red-faced. Whether that was from rushing about or anger or embarrassment, Gene had no idea. It seemed to take a moment for the Chief the find his voice. "What are you doing here, Hunt?" he hissed.
"I thought it was time we had a talk. I'm sure you know by now that DI Drake has regained consciousness."
"Yes, of course, I've heard!" Jeffers snapped. "We're planning to see her today."
Gene straightened up. "She's going to corroborate my statement about the shooting."
Narrowing his eyes, Jeffers said, "You've seen her."
"Yes."
"You were supposed to stay away from her."
"She's my DI and my friend," Gene said. "I wasn't going to let you or anyone else keep me from her."
"I should have known," Jeffers said. "You have no respect for rules and procedure."
Ignoring the comment, Gene asked, "Why are you doing this? Why are you going along with Walker and Carroll? You know I didn't deliberately shoot Drake."
"What am I supposed to do?" Jeffers sounded both cross and desperate. "The evidence is against you."
"What evidence?"
"You threatened Drake. There was a witness, whom you also threatened."
"Jenette Rivens is a con artist!" Gene shot back. "And she had a gun to Drake's head! Bloody right I threatened her!"
"It all added up to put you in a very bad light! You have a temper. Both you and Drake. It's possible that you shot her in the heat of anger."
"I'm not that stupid!" Gene snapped. "I'd never lose control with a gun in my hand!"
Jeffers looked away, no longer defending his actions. Gene took a step closer and lowered his voice. "What's this really about, Chief?" he asked. "Why is the word of a grifter like Jenette Rivers being taken over a DCI's?"
"You've a reputation for setting your own rules and ignoring procedure," Jeffers said. "You'd gone off on your own before and been less than honest about your actions. The higher-ups don't know if they should trust you now or not."
"Is this about the shooting? Or is it about Mac? And Operation Rose?" Getting no answer, Gene went on. "You know, I always thought that if I did my job, kept the streets clean on my patch, made sure my team was straight, cleared cases – all that would speak for me. But when it comes down to it," he added bitterly, "it's like any other business. If you don't play the game, you're gonna pay."
Gene moved toward the door. "Take it easy on Drake when you talk to her," he said. "She'll put up a good front, but she's still recovering and very weak."
Jeffers called after him. "You should have made more friends along the way, Gene."
Gene paused and looked back at the Chief. "I thought I just needed one. With guts."
He left Jeffers to his conscience.
**********
The telephones at Fenchurch West had been ringing non-stop for the past two days, ever since Jeffers had started referring most major cases from Fenchurch East to other stations. When that had started, Superintendent Mark Walker had been rather smug. It seemed another nail in Gene Hunt's coffin. Hunt's team was being reviewed. They were about to be split up. Walker thought that it was justified.
Now he was just pissed off.
With DCI Carnegie and other officers removed from West, CID was stretched thin. The remaining detectives were doing their best, but tempers were short and morale was low. Walker had made the mistake of thinking that a few extra cases would keep their minds off the bent coppers who'd been in their midst.
Walker was wrong.
Instead, it seemed to emphasize just how bad things were. He had thought his crew would blame Hunt and Drake. Instead, they blamed Carnegie and his company. And they were beginning to question Walker for not doing something about his DCI. DI Jones was keeping the unrest down, but Walker wondered how long that would last.
As he got to his office, Walker saw the door was ajar. He was certain that he'd left it locked the night before. It couldn't be anyone dangerous in there. After all, he was in a police station. He strode through and stopped in surprise. Jenette Rivens was sitting in front of his desk. She jumped as he walked in.
"Superintendent," she gasped. "You frightened me."
"How did you get in?" he asked automatically.
"The sergeant at the front desk was nice enough to let me in this morning," Jenette said. "I – I had a bad night. I'm still so afraid Gene will come after me."
Walker studied her, as if for the first time. She looked very much as she had that first morning she'd walked into his office. Pale, frightened, her eyes red-rimmed. Dressed prim and proper, like a mousy little version of Princess Diana.
He closed the door and moved behind his desk to sit down. A few days ago he'd offered her tea and biscuits and listened while she poured her heart out to him. Walker couldn't believe how much of a fool he'd been. She was grifter, playing to her audience. He didn't know what made him more angry. That he'd fallen for it. Or that Hunt had been right about her.
Still, that didn't mean that at least part of what she'd said was the truth. Her relationship with Hunt. Her witnessing his deliberately shooting at Drake.
"What do you want, Jenette?" he asked.
"I told you," she answered, a desperate note in her voice. "I'm afraid. You have my statement. I want to leave town. I need to get away from him!"
Walker laughed. He didn't know where that laugh came from. Maybe it was a final recognition of his short-sightedness in the whole thing. Maybe it was her audacity.
"You really are amazing," he observed. "Hunt was right. You are a con artist."
Jenette appeared stricken. "You believe him?" she asked. "After everything—"
"DI Drake is awake, Jenette," Walker said. "And I have a feeling she's going to back him up on his story."
There was a change in the woman's face. The helpless expression disappeared. A hard, tough look replaced it. As if she suddenly knew the game was up. "Of course, she will!" Jenette spat out. "She'll back her man. They're the worst ones. The liberated women. Say that they're tough and don't need a man, but as soon as one slaps her arse, she'll fall at his feet."
"All right," Walker said, leaning forward. "So drop the act and tell me what really happened."
"I told you," Jenette replied, relaxing back into the chair. "Gene Hunt and I had a relationship. He threatened me. He shot Drake. That's it."
"He says you had a gun to Drake's head."
"Why would I do that?"
"You had expected to be paid for helping with the armored car robbery."
"I didn't know anything about the blag. Tim might have been involved, but not me."
They were going around in circles. Walker sighed. "If I were you, Jenette, I'd just go on home. I seriously doubt Hunt has any interest in you – or ever did." Her green eyes flashed in anger. "Drake will back him up. If we need anything more from you, we know where to find you."
Jenette said nothing more. She simply got up and left the room.
Walker sat thinking for a while. He knew that his superiors were beginning to investigate the conditions at Fenchurch West that had let Carnegie crimes go unnoticed. And that would reflect badly on Walker himself. He had known that his DCI was bent, but as long as he did his job, Walker had been willing to look the other way. If only Hunt had stayed out of it.
Jenette had repeated the essential part of her statement, still insisting on the relationship between herself and Hunt and his threat toward her. That could be of use against DCI Gene Hunt. If nothing else, it might keep him from regaining command at Fenchurch East.
**********
Jenette walked out of Fenchurch West and didn't look back. It had been worth a try. She'd been hoping to get some cash out of Walker. She needed some new clothes and a new start. Oh, well, she thought. There's always another mark out there.
But Walker's comment about Gene having no interest in her. She was surprised how much that had angered her. Gene had played right into her hands! That whole business about Westerns. He'd made that so easy to read, with all the Western paraphernalia in his office. All she'd had to do was go to the library and read up on the movies. When he'd asked if she liked Westerns, she had the answers memorized. Gene had liked that. He'd reached for her. They'd gone back to her place.
But then he'd never said her name. He barely looked at her the whole time. He left afterward, with hardly a word. And she knew he'd played her. Used her. Hatred for Gene surged through Jenette. It spilled over into hatred for Alex Drake.
Whatever he offered you to get between us, it was a lie.
Jenette knew that even before Gene had said it. He'd made her doubt herself. And Jenette hated being outmaneuvered.
So she'd planned her revenge. And now it had fallen apart. Fucking posh Alexandra Drake was going to clear her man. But Gene was a fool if he thought he really had a chance with her. He'd get his heart broken before it was done.
Jenette went home and started packing. No reason to stay put with Tim out of hospital and safe – not that he was worth saving in the first place. But family's family. He'd end up in jail. A fate Jenette would make sure didn't follow her.
She did have a bit of money saved. Maybe if she pulled a few quick scams, she could make enough to get to America. Plenty of marks there. People with lots of money and a soft spot for an Irish accent