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Chapter 3
3 ON THE BEAT, SOUTHEAST LONDON, JANUARY 1979Either nothing happens or all hell breaks loose. That was how it was in uniform, and I’d never much liked it. From the moment I joined the force in 1977 I held on tight to my wish to get out of uniform and into plain clothes. The CID was where I belonged. I, Marjorie Pierce, was a detective through and through. Even though I was only twenty-four and it could hardly be said that I knew my own mind, I was emphatic about what I didn’t want, and that helped shape my future. Walking the beat was not for me. The night shift was not for me either, mostly thanks to my neighbour, a stay-at-home mum who insisted on playing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ loud, over and over again while hubby was at work – maybe it was the only song that got her child off t
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