Читать книгу Hidden Killers - Lynda La plante - Страница 9
ОглавлениеJane struck the typewriter keys angrily as she typed up her report recording Allard’s refusal to admit his assault against her. Her stomach rumbled as she hadn’t had time for lunch, and the lack of sleep the previous night was catching up with her, but as she detailed Allard’s accusation that she was the one lying, she didn’t feel so tired any more. Instead she couldn’t wait to go on the search to his house and prove he was guilty of the crimes he wouldn’t admit. Jane stood up and was just rolling the report out of the typewriter when DI Moran and DC Edwards stopped by the incident room. Moran gestured to her.
‘Get your coat, Tennison, we’ve got a search warrant for Allard’s house. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s quite a trek to bloody Walthamstow.’
Before Jane could reply Moran and Edwards had continued down the corridor. Jane looked longingly at the sandwich and cup of coffee on her desk. She was ravenous, so she grabbed the sandwich in one hand, and her hat and coat in the other. As Harris passed the doorway, he looked in.
‘You’d better not think about eating that in the patrol car, Tennison . . .’
Jane sighed and hurriedly took a few large bites of her sandwich before putting the remainder of it back on the plate on her desk, and rushing out to the yard to join Moran and Edwards.
The Allards’ home in Walthamstow was a privately owned, three-bedroom semi-detached house. It had a rather neglected front garden, which appeared to be the norm in that street. Moran parked the car and got out, followed by Jane, Edwards and the SOCO. Moran banged on the front door, which was answered by a petite, attractive Asian woman.
‘I’m DI Moran, are you Marie Allard?’
‘Yes, I am.’ The woman looked frightened. ‘Oh my God! Has something happened to Peter? He not come home and I been worried sick . . .’
Moran interrupted, saying that her husband had been arrested and that he had a warrant to search the premises. He handed her a copy of the warrant as he pushed the door open and walked in, followed by the three others.
The inside of the premises was well kept, with the usual children’s toys scattered about. The hall had parquet flooring, with a floral printed runner that continued up the stairs. The bannisters were painted white and large framed pictures of the Allard children hung on the white walls. The children, aged eight and five, were out in the garden playing with an older woman. Marie pointed to the living room and asked them to go in. Moran went first, followed by Jane. Edwards and the SOCO remained in the hall. The room had a distinct oriental influence, with bamboo furniture, various fake potted plants, and a print of Vladimir Tretchikoff’s ‘Chinese Girl’. There was a pale green rug, and on the windowsill in the corner was a gaudy statue of the Virgin Mary standing next to a cheap vase containing a velvet rose. Moran asked Marie to sit down.
He didn’t waste time and explained that her husband had been arrested for a number of sexual assaults and rape. Marie couldn’t believe what she was hearing, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Do you understand English, Mrs Allard? You’re
Filipino, aren’t you?’
Marie looked affronted at Moran’s questions and replied curtly.
‘Yes, course I understand you . . . I already spoken to you. I just in shock. My husband is gentle man and never hurt me or my children.’
Moran pointed to Jane and told Marie that her ‘gentle’ husband had attacked and molested WPC Tennison, threatened to cut her throat with a knife and punched her in the face. Marie looked shocked. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and kept repeating, ‘No . . . you wrong, you wrong . . . it not true.’ Moran continued and told her that if he hadn’t been stopped he would have raped WPC Tennison as, it was suspected, he had done on a previous occasion to a teenage girl.
Marie was shaking uncontrollably. Her dark curly hair had a low fringe and she kept touching her forehead and tugging at a stray curl. She looked at Jane, her eyes welling up with tears, as if wanting her to say it wasn’t true.
Jane was surprised by Moran’s directness towards Marie. It was as if he’d had enough of being messed around by Peter Allard and was determined to get to the truth, by whatever means necessary.
Jane touched her cut lip and spoke softly. ‘It is true, Mrs Allard. He did this to me, and he had a knife in his possession. I believed at the time that he would have raped me, but for my colleagues’ intervention.’
Marie was clearly in a state of shock and started to cry. At that moment the children rushed in, stopping when they saw their mother. Marie tried to smile and assured them that she was fine and had just had a bit of bad news.
‘I’m sorry, children, come here.’ Hilda Allard followed the children into the room. Seeing Marie’s distress she, like her daughter-in-law, immediately thought something had happened to her son, Peter. Moran was as blunt with her as he had been with Marie. He explained that he would need to search the house, including the children’s bedroom, and it would be best if their gran took them out for a walk. Hilda flatly refused and insisted that she wanted to be with her daughter-in-law. She was quite overweight with tight permed grey hair and big raw hands. Marie was struggling to control her emotions, but took a deep breath and turned to her mother-in-law.
‘It OK, Hilda, I be OK . . . Maybe it best if you take children to your place, and I call you later.’
Hilda was hesitant but eventually agreed. After removing her apron and collecting her handbag she left the house with the children. Moran waited until the front door closed behind them before asking Marie, in a softer tone than before, if her husband had ever abused her. Marie shook her head, her wide dark eyes blinking rapidly.
‘No! Never! We been married for ten years . . .’ Moran sat beside Marie and kept his voice quiet.
‘Is it all right if I call you Marie?’ She nodded and he continued.
‘Women who are abused, or frightened of their husbands, are often in denial and say nothing because of fear of further violence. Your husband committed a violent sexual assault last night, and similarly other assaults he is suspected of, as well as a rape. These were all committed late in the evening, between ten and midnight. Were you never concerned about what Peter was doing out late at night?’
‘He drive a cab and always work evening shifts, some time until early hours. Then he can be with the children in the day. I only worried this morning when he not come home.’
Moran glanced at Jane and, turning back to Marie, asked if she had a normal, healthy, sexual relationship with her husband. Marie looked offended and shook her head.
‘My sex life not to do with you.’
Moran shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, it can’t have been that great if he had to go out and attack other women.’
Marie became tight lipped and continued to tug at her hair, winding the strands through her fingers in an almost obsessive manner. Moran got up from the sofa, walked over to Jane and stood with his back to Marie. Leaning forward, in a hushed voice, he said to her, ‘I think she’s hiding something . . . I want you to stay with her and see if you can get her to open up. I’ll go and search upstairs with Edwards and the SOCO.’
‘Yes, sir.’
She felt that Moran had been a bit harsh on Marie as she may have been totally unaware of what her husband was like outside his home life. It seemed unlikely to Jane, by the state Marie was in, that she would deliberately portray a loving family façade to protect her husband. When the others had left the room Jane sat down beside her, saying softly that the news must be an awful shock for her and asking if she would like a cup of tea or coffee. Marie shook her head, and without looking at Jane asked if her husband really had attacked her.
Jane hesitated before answering.
‘Yes, he did . . . but my split lip happened while he was trying to escape, so it may have been accidental . . .’
‘I can’t believe it! He never been violent towards me . . . never in all our time together. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers.’
‘So are you saying that your husband has never hit you?’
‘Never! I keep telling you, he is very gentle, kind, man. And he take care of us, here in our nice house.’
‘Do you own this house?’
‘No, we rent it. We been here five years. Before that we had very nice house in Maidstone.’
‘I’m so sorry but I need to ask you some embarrassing questions about your sex life.’
Marie began to frantically twist the curl on her forehead between her fingers. Without looking at Jane she asked if their discussion was confidential and just between the two of them.
‘Yes, Marie, it is completely confidential.’
Jane felt bad knowing that she would later have to report whatever Marie told her to DI Moran.
Marie took a deep breath, stopped nervously twisting her hair and looked at Jane.
‘He always been gentle in bed, and even though we not have sex recently, he never been pushy or forced himself on me. He would never do that . . . he always very thoughtful, even now when . . .’ She stopped and Jane sensed she was holding back about something.
‘What did you mean when you said you hadn’t had sex recently?’ Jane asked gently.
Marie continued, saying that it had been about six months. She had an ovarian cyst, which made sex very painful, and she was waiting for an operation on the NHS.
Jane sympathized.
‘I am so sorry, Marie. I had an aunt with the same problem, and I remember she said it was extremely painful. So if you couldn’t have sexual intercourse in the normal way, did you try any other methods?’
Marie blushed and bowed her head, deeply embarrassed as she continued explaining that although they couldn’t have full sex she regularly pleasured her husband with masturbation and oral sex.
‘He want me to try anal sex but it hurt too much, so he stopped and he never ask again. You see what I mean about him being kind and gentle?’
‘And you were never suspicious when he was out late at night?’
‘No, never. He sometimes call me three or four times to make sure I am OK.’
‘Thank you for your honesty, Marie.’
Marie seemed relieved to have discussed such personal matters, and was calmer now. ‘Please, tell me what my husband has done? I can’t believe it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t go into the details of the investigation.’
‘Please . . . I need to know, to try and make sense . . . Why you here? Why you searching my home?’
‘All I can tell you, Marie, is that your husband is adamant he didn’t commit any indecent assaults or rape . . . but he did attack me.’
Marie looked perplexed. ‘If he didn’t do them, then why he attack you?’
‘I don’t know . . . only he can answer that. You need to ask him yourself, Marie. They might let you speak to him if you visit the station later. Here’s my contact information at the station – please call me if you have any questions or want to tell me anything else.’
Jane scribbled her details onto a clean page in her notebook, which she then tore out and gave to Marie.
As Marie put the folded note into her pocket DI Moran walked back into the room. ‘We’ve searched yours and the children’s bedrooms, but why is the third bedroom locked?’
‘My husband uses it as a gym, he didn’t want the children going there and hurting themselves on the equipment.’
‘Do you have the key?’
‘I don’t know where he keeps it.’
‘Isn’t that a bit strange? That your husband wouldn’t tell you where the key was?’
‘I don’t know, not really.’ Marie shrugged.
Moran looked at her hard, then left the room to go back upstairs.
Jane noticed that Marie had become very tense, her hands clenched at her side. Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound from upstairs as the officers kicked open the locked door. Marie was on her feet in an instant, running up the stairs and shouting at them to stop ruining her house. Jane followed to try to calm her down. The bedroom door had partially come away from its hinges and the lock lay on the floor among splinters of wood. Inside the small room was a five-foot-high thick wooden pole with bits of rounded twelve-inch wooden handles sticking out of it. Two rectangular leather bags of sand were screwed into the wall and hanging above them was a collection of martial arts swords, and two wooden sticks connected at one end by a short chain. On another wall were pictures of Bruce Lee and other martial arts posters from the film Enter the Dragon.
DC Edwards was looking around the room.
‘What the fuck is all this?’ He pointed to the wooden figure in the middle of the room.
The SOCO grinned. ‘That’s a Wing Chun dummy, for practising martial arts. Some of the indentation marks on it are from a knife. The wooden things on a chain are nunchucks, and the sand bags are for karate punching.’
Moran and Edwards looked at each other, bemused.
‘You into all this martial arts crap then?’ Moran asked.
The SOCO shrugged. ‘Not really . . . I just like watching martial arts films. If your man uses this sort of gear a lot, then his hands and feet are lethal weapons.’
Moran looked at Marie who was hovering in the doorway.
‘Does he spend much time in here?’
She nodded, saying that her husband practised martial arts and used the equipment regularly.
‘He a keep fit fanatic, and he not even drink.’
Moran looked inside the wardrobe. There was a small travel suitcase on a shelf. He pulled it down and found that it was locked. He turned to Marie.
‘I don’t suppose you know where the key to this is either?’
Before she could answer he grabbed one of the large knives from the wall and cut the material on top of the case open, ripping it back to expose the contents.
Inside the travel case were a number of pornographic magazines, together with a clear plastic bag containing a quantity of pills. Concealed in the middle of the magazines were two folding pocket knives. Moran hadn’t seen this type of knife before, and looked at Edwards while he held them up. The SOCO interjected.
‘They’re called balisongs, guv, originating from the Philippines and used in martial arts. I’d guess the pills are steroids of some sort. They’re not illegal, though, a lot of body builders use them and—’
Moran interrupted him. ‘Yes, I know what steroids are, thank you . . . they also affect a man’s sex drive and make them violent. All makes sense as far as our suspect is concerned.’
Edwards picked up one of the magazines and flicked through it, hastily dropping it back in the case.
‘Ugh, some of the pages are stuck together!’
Moran had seen enough and instructed the SOCO to bag up the weapons and suitcase with its contents as evidence. He looked at Jane and, not caring that Marie was still within earshot, asked about their discussion about her sex life. Marie looked forlornly at Jane, hoping that she wouldn’t reveal details about the private conversation they’d had. Moran had put Jane on the spot, and she hesitated, looking at Marie as he became impatient for an answer.
‘Come on, out with it!’
Jane tapped Moran’s elbow.
‘Sir, could I possibly have a word with you in private?’
‘What?’
‘Marie is incredibly shy, but she has admitted that they have been unable to have sexual intercourse for some time.’
Moran looked quizzically at Jane.
‘For Chrissakes, Tennison! She’s going to be crossexamined in court if she gives evidence for the defence. If she can’t tell me about it, you tell me.’
Jane looked at Marie regretfully, sad that she was having to breach her confidence so openly.
She went on to tell Moran about Marie’s ovarian cyst, how she pleasured her husband, and that he’d asked her for anal sex. Moran gestured towards one of the hardcore magazines entitled Anal Pleasures and, holding it up sarcastically, said that it was obvious where her husband got that idea from. An embarrassed and tearful Marie looked at Jane with disgust, saying that if they’d finished searching they could get out of her house. By now Moran had really lost his patience and held up more of the magazines in front of her.
‘You see the sort of filth that your husband likes to look at and wank over, Mrs Allard . . . just because you can’t satisfy him? He takes these pills and gets so worked up he prowls the streets in a mask then molests and rapes defenceless young women. I find it hard to believe you didn’t suspect something was wrong.’
Marie began sobbing and demanded that they get out of the house.
‘I not want you here any more . . . You bad people . . . You been in my children’s bedroom.’
In the car Moran was jubilant at what they had uncovered. Although circumstantial, the porn magazines and the steroid pills were all good enough evidence to show Allard’s state of mind and propensity to commit sexual assaults. Jane was quiet and Moran asked her what the problem was.
‘I’m sorry but I just felt for Mrs Allard. In effect she is an innocent victim. I mean, maybe at one time her husband was a good man.’
‘Grow up! That’s utter bollocks! There have probably been more sexual assaults carried out by him in and around London that we don’t know about. Indecent assault wasn’t enough for him so he went on to rape, and if we hadn’t caught him when we did there would have been more rapes and probably a murder committed by him as well. Mrs Allard’s state of mind is not your problem. Her husband brought this on himself and if she at any point suspected something was amiss she should have told someone. Like that tough-looking mother-in-law . . . judging by the size of her hands I wouldn’t be surprised if she could give someone a walloping.’
*
It was nearly 4 p.m. when they returned to the station.
‘You both head up to the canteen and get something to eat while you write up your notes. I’ll join you after I’ve booked in the property we seized from Allard’s house,’ DI Moran instructed DC Edwards and Jane.
Sergeant Harris was at his desk in the front office and on seeing Moran he mentioned, ‘Allard has been asking to speak with a solicitor.’
‘I want to do a further interview first, before getting a solicitor involved,’ Moran replied as they walked together through to the charge room.
‘But now we know Allard’s identity and address he should legally be allowed to consult with a solicitor,’ Harris pushed.
‘I know the rules, Sergeant Harris, but with the evidence I found at Allard’s house, and what his wife told us, I reckon I can get him to confess to all the indecent assaults . . . and the rape. A solicitor is just going to tell him to say nothing.’
‘I’ll stick my neck out if you think you can get him to roll over. I’ll mark up on his sheet that he hasn’t requested a solicitor. He’s allowed one phone call so let me tell him that after the search of his house his wife was in a hell of a state and he should phone her. You never know, it might work in your favour and get him to finally tell the truth.’
Moran was on a high so he told Harris to go ahead, as after what he’d said to Allard’s wife she probably thought her precious husband was now the scum of the earth. He also hoped that her emotional distress would make Allard feel at his lowest ebb, and that would make it easier to break him during an interview.
Moran put the small travelling case down on the charge room table, opened it up and showed Harris the pornographic magazines, balisong knives and the tablets. Harris picked up a magazine and flicked through it, pausing here and there to take a good look. Moran asked Harris if he’d mind listing the property as he wanted to get some food in his stomach before the second interview with Allard. Harris nodded and asked how Tennison was. Moran shrugged.
‘She needs to toughen up a bit.’
Surprised by Moran’s comment Harris remarked,
‘Jane must have thought she was going to be raped, though.’
‘No, not about that . . . she was terrific last night. But her attitude with Mrs Allard . . . she was a bit soft and kind of pussy-footed around with the woman. I think she needs to be tougher in those kind of situations and not get emotionally involved.’
‘You know Tennison has expressed an interest in joining the CID, but I don’t think she’s ready for it yet. What do you think?’ Harris asked.
‘In some ways I agree. She’s obviously not afraid of the rough end of the job, but investigative-wise she’s got a lot to learn yet, which could make her a liability in certain situations.’
Harris didn’t need to say anything. He knew what Moran meant by ‘certain situations’ and finding missing evidence if and when necessary. Moran went up to the canteen, leaving Harris checking over the items from the suitcase. It was quite a lengthy process as he was spending time studying the porno magazines, and paying even more attention to the fitness and body building magazines.
DS Lawrence had called from the lab to say that they had found fibres from the suspect’s clothes on two of the indecent assault victims, but nothing, as yet, connecting him to the rape. Moran, accompanied by Jane, got ready to re-interview Allard. Harris informed them that Allard had phoned his wife and had spoken with her for at least ten minutes, and appeared to be quite distressed both during and after the call. Harris had tried to listen in but it was difficult as he was booking in a noisy drunk who kept singing ‘Underneath the Arches’ at the top of his voice. However, Harris said that he thought Allard may have confessed to his wife, and most surprisingly he hadn’t asked for a solicitor after the call.
Moran booked out the property seized from the martial arts room for the interview. A clearly subdued Allard was brought up from the cells and taken to Moran’s office.
Moran opened the interview by getting right to the point. ‘Have you changed your mind and decided to finally tell the truth and admit these assaults?’
‘Why were you so horrible to my wife?’
‘You’ve no one but yourself to blame for this situation. If you had admitted the offences before we went to your house then things may have been different,’ Moran calmly responded.
The suitcase was then placed on the desk in front of
Allard.
‘Do the porn magazines and the two martial arts knives belong to you?’
‘Yeah. I like to keep fit by training at Wing Chun. I use the balisong knives and nunchucks on the wooden dummy I have in the spare room.’
Moran glanced at Jane as she made notes.
‘Thing is, Peter, that doesn’t explain the hardcore porn magazines,’ Moran said in an amiable way, which surprised Jane after his approach and attitude in the first interview and at the house during the search.
‘I bought them from a sex shop in Soho.’
‘For masturbating?’
Allard looked embarrassed and said nothing.
‘OK, Peter, I understand that you’re embarrassed, but I’ll take that as a “yes”. What can you tell me about these pills . . . are they steroids?’
Allard nodded.
‘Tell me, did you feel an even greater sexual urge when you took them, as opposed to looking at the porn?’
‘I took them because they helped me train longer and harder, and gave me greater muscle definition, all right? It’s not illegal to buy them.’
‘Maybe not, but we know about the problems with your sex life at home. Listen, Peter, I can understand how frustrated you must have felt . . . all pent up and in need of sex . . . it must have really pissed you off not getting sex from your wife?’
Allard tightened his lips, clenched his teeth and took a deep breath.
‘None of this is her fault, none of it. She didn’t know what I was doing and just thought I was out working nights in the cab.’
‘Did you tell her what you’d done when you called her on the phone earlier?’
Allard slowly lowered his head, then replied that his wife had told him to tell the truth.
Moran nodded. ‘She’s right, Peter, because it will be better for you in the long run. So take your time and go slowly . . . WPC Tennison will be writing down your confessions.’
Allard kept his head lowered, eyes to the ground, as he explained that he had tried to cope with his wife being unable to have full sex with him. He even appeared to be embarrassed when he said that they had found ways round it.
Moran tapped the desk. ‘I know – she told us she’d give you a hand or a blow job instead . . . but I’m more interested in the women you forced yourself on.’
Jane saw Allard tighten his hands into fists. He appeared sickened at the way Moran had spoken about his wife, and Jane watched with interest as Allard took deep breaths to calm himself down, breathing in through his nose and holding it before releasing it through his mouth with a slight hissing sound.
‘OK . . . it started because I wanted to stop the feeling of anger . . . my frustration . . . understand? I paid prostitutes for sex in the back of the cab. Anyway, one night this tart ripped me off by snatching my money bag and running off. You know, I honest to God despised myself for what I was doing, but this slag angered me so much. I mean, she got away with a whole day’s takings, and I’d done two runs to Heathrow Airport. So I decided I’d take what I wanted from prostitutes without paying, as they would be unlikely to tell the police. I would park my cab near known prostitute haunts, dress up in dark clothes and watch them. When one walked away from a group, or her pimp, I reckoned she was probably going home and I would follow. I’d put on the stocking mask, grab them from behind and feel their breasts and vagina while I touched my penis.’
‘It turned you on and you masturbated.’
Allard nodded and Moran looked over at Jane to see if she was keeping up with taking down the details. She continued writing for a moment before giving him a small nod to continue. Moran leaned back in his chair. He spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone.
‘Well, Peter, seems you underestimated two prostitutes who came forward to report you. And two of your other victims were not on the game, they were just young women innocently walking home after an enjoyable night out or, as in the case of your arrest, a WPC acting as a decoy. You following me, Peter? Because, apart from WPC Tennison, you have destroyed those women’s lives and they’re now afraid to leave their homes.’
Allard looked shocked and tried to explain that from the way they were dressed he thought that they were all prostitutes.
‘Well, you were wrong. So how about you start helping me out by giving me full details of your attacks? That means I need you to describe the victims and where and when the attacks occurred.’
Allard started talking. It transpired that there had been two other attacks the police didn’t even know about. Moran tapped the desk with his pencil as if mulling over everything he had just heard.
‘OK, I notice that you haven’t admitted exactly what you did to these women.’
Allard shook his head. He took another long deep breath before he said quietly that he felt ashamed and found the details difficult to talk about.
Moran leaned closer to Allard. ‘OK, Peter, I can understand you have feelings of guilt, who wouldn’t, but see how much better you feel after telling the truth about what you did?’
Allard nodded.
‘And I can also understand that it must be even harder for you to admit to rape. I took a statement from the young victim . . . it was harrowing, even for me, so don’t make her relive the whole thing in court. Tell me the truth . . . tell me exactly what happened, in your own words.’
Allard looked Moran in the eye then slowly turned to face Jane. For the first time she noticed that without that flare of anger in his face, Allard was exceptionally good-looking. His thick hair was well cut, he had high cheekbones with wide apart, deep set, dark brown eyes, and when he lowered them in a submissive manner he had long, thick eyelashes.
‘I have never raped anyone and I am so sorry for what I did to you . . . I honestly never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to get away . . . please believe me. I am truly sorry.’
Jane jumped as Moran suddenly banged the flat of his hand down on the desk.
‘You scared the shit out of her! If she hadn’t resisted and we weren’t there you would have raped her, wouldn’t you?’
Allard looked shocked.
‘No . . . No! I swear before God, I never raped any of the women! That was never on my mind. I only touched them and masturbated.’
‘Indecent assault wasn’t enough for you . . . you wanted more. You needed full sex to satisfy your urges and the only way you’d get that is by raping a young girl.’
‘No . . . No, you’re wrong, I—’
‘Then why did you have a flick knife on you? The exact same type of knife that the teenage rape victim described seeing?’
Allard began twisting uncomfortably in the chair.
‘Please! . . . I didn’t commit any rapes! You know I wasn’t carrying a knife. I’ve never carried a knife, not even in my cab.’ He nodded towards Jane. ‘I only told her and the others I was carrying one so they wouldn’t scream!’
Moran accused him of being a liar. But Allard was adamant, claiming that he only ever committed the indecent assaults and he would plead guilty to those in court.
‘You think we’re stupid? You’re only admitting the assaults as the lesser of two evils . . . Right? Right?’
Allard looked pleadingly at Jane.
‘Honest, I wasn’t carrying a knife . . . I was never going to rape you . . . I’ve never raped anyone!’
‘Bullshit! You couldn’t have consensual sex with your wife, anal or otherwise, so the only way you could eventually satisfy your needs was to commit a rape.’
Allard refused to answer. Moran accused him again. Allard still said nothing.
‘You think I don’t know steroids make a man sexually violent, and that you’re remaining silent because of your guilt about committing rape? She was seventeen the same day you raped her, and she’s now so traumatized she won’t leave her home.’
Allard said nothing as he sat up straight. Moran paused, looked him in the eye and nodded, as if he’d just realized something.
‘You also don’t want to admit to the rape because of your wife. You think she’ll accept the indecent assaults because they are in some way her fault, but raping a teenage girl, she won’t accept that. Well, even if you don’t confess, believe me, I will make sure she comes to realize it was you and sees you for the animal that you really are.’
Allard looked helplessly at Jane.
‘Why don’t you tell him the truth? I might have said I had a knife, but I didn’t . . . that was only to frighten you. I thought you were someone else. Why are you lying? You know I’ve been set up with the flick knife, because he wants to charge me with a rape I didn’t commit.’
Jane didn’t know whether to believe Allard or not. There was something about his desperate pleas that made her feel uneasy about the whole situation. Moran picked up his desk phone, called the duty desk and asked for a uniform PC to be sent up to his office. He then told Allard that they would conclude the interview for now as he had further enquiries to make. Jane partially held up the pen in her hand as she had a question she wanted to ask. Irritated, Moran repeated that the interview was over.
Feeling frustrated, Jane went to the CID office, where
DC Edwards was sitting at his desk writing.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.
‘They’re in the pub celebrating one of the detectives’ birthdays. As soon as I’ve finished these notes on the search of Allard’s house I’m joining them, if you want to come?’
‘DI Moran is with DCS Metcalf and he wants you to prepare the charges against Allard for all the indecent assaults.’
Edwards looked annoyed and mumbled something about having enough bloody work to do already and missing out on the booze-up.
‘I have to do the CRO 74, but could give you a hand as well if you need it?’
‘I have to go downstairs and get some blank charge sheets and the Guide to the Wording of Police Charges for an indecent assault and assault on a police officer,’ Edwards said as he walked towards the door.
Jane shouted across the room, ‘Moran said the list of the victims’ names was on his desk.’
Edwards raised his hand to acknowledge he’d heard her as he left the room.
Jane thought she’d be helpful and get the list from Moran’s office. She looked on his desk and to one side in a plastic desk tray she saw the list on top of a thick file. She picked up the list and noticed the file underneath had
‘DI Moran’ and ‘Indecent Assaults’ written on it. She was curious, picked up the file, placed it on the desk in front of her, sat down and started to flick through the victims’ statements. It quickly struck Jane that not one of the six victims mentioned actually seeing a knife, but in all of the cases the suspect had worn a stocking mask and said ‘I’ve got a knife so don’t scream!’ Jane remembered Allard saying something similar, but couldn’t quite recall his exact words.
She was about to replace the file when she saw another file with Moran’s name on it marked ‘Lamb Lane Rape’ in the plastic desk tray. She knew that Lamb Lane was only a stone’s throw away from London Fields where she was attacked and, opening the file, she took out the victim’s statement and started to read the salient points. The suspect had grabbed the victim from behind and held a flick knife to her throat and said, ‘If you scream or struggle I’ll cut your neck.’ Again she believed this was similar to what had been said to her by Allard. Jane read on. The rape victim stated that when the man had been on top of her and had penetrated her she noticed he had bad body odour and that his breath smelt of alcohol. Jane recalled Marie saying that her husband didn’t drink and she also remembered the sweet smell of aftershave when Allard had grabbed her from behind. However, what really struck Jane was that in the rape victim’s statement the assailant was wearing a black balaclava with eye holes, not a stocking pulled down over his face.
She heard someone in the CID office and quickly put the rape statement back. She picked up both files from the desk to put them back in the tray, but in her haste she dropped them.
‘What are you doing?’
She looked up and saw DC Edwards staring at her. ‘I, er, was trying to find the list of victims and just picked up some files when I heard your voice . . . It startled me and I dropped them.’
Edwards helped her pick up the statements, which she put back in the case files. He noticed DI Moran’s name on the Indecent Assaults file and asked Jane if she’d been lumbered with writing the report. Jane nervously shook her head, saying that she was just interested in reading the victims’ statements. Edwards sensed from her tone and demeanour that something was wrong, even more so when he noticed that she’d also dropped the rape file.
‘Did you ask Moran if you could look through these files?’
Jane knew it wasn’t worth lying. ‘No, but I didn’t really know much about any of the cases so I was just having a quick read of the statements.’
‘Listen, Jane, one thing you don’t do is go snooping through a senior officer’s files. If Moran found out, you’d never get in the CID, in fact you wouldn’t even be allowed to cross the threshold into the main office again!’
‘Are you going to tell him?’ Jane asked, looking worried.
Edwards hesitated at first, then reassured Jane that she could trust him to keep quiet, but he sensed something else was making her nervous and asked her what it was.
Jane explained that no one had seen a knife in any of the indecent assaults, and in every attack the suspect wore a stocking mask, but in the rape he wore a balaclava. She was about to continue when Edwards interrupted.
‘So what? It’s a form of mask, just like the stocking Allard wore. Moran is way more experienced than the two of us, and if he thinks all the attacks and the rape are linked then he has good reason. He can’t just ignore Allard as a possible suspect, can he?’
‘No, I appreciate that, but the attacker in the rape held a knife to the victim’s throat and said “If you scream or struggle I’ll cut your neck—”’
Again Edwards interrupted. ‘Yeah, exactly like Allard said to you, Jane. So let’s just agree to differ and get on with what DI Moran told us to do.’
‘It’s not what he said to me . . . and there are other glaring differences between last night’s assault on me and the rape.’
Edwards looked at her. She had her CID pocket book in her hand.
‘Allard said to me, and this is word for word . . .’ Jane looked at her pocket book. ‘“I’ve got a knife . . . so keep your mouth shut, you fucking thieving whore, or I’ll cut your throat wide open this time”, but he didn’t even hold a knife to my throat.’
‘For Chrissakes, Jane, apart from a word or two it’s the same . . . so just drop it.’
‘The rape victim also said her attacker smelt of BO. Allard was so close to me that I could smell his aftershave.’
‘So? He could have been sweating like a pig after stuffing himself with steroids, for all we know.’
Again she referred to her pocket book. ‘Allard said in the interview, “I paid prostitutes for sex in the back of the cab. Anyway, one night this tart ripped me off by snatching my money bag and running off.”’
‘It’s called motive, Jane, he’s telling you why he committed his crimes. No, I’m wrong . . . he’s actually trying to blame prostitutes for the fact he became a pervert. He also attacked women who weren’t prostitutes!’
Edwards was losing his patience.
‘But he thought they were . . . just like he did with me. In fact, I think it’s possible he thought I was the same prostitute who stole money from him, that’s why he said “thieving whore”. It was personal . . . maybe he wasn’t going to rape me, maybe he was going to drag me behind the Lido so he could beat me up.’
‘Oh, and that makes it all right, does it? That means
Allard’s not so bad after all?’
Jane persisted. ‘I’m not saying that . . .’
‘Then what are you saying?’
Jane took a deep breath and sighed. ‘I think Moran planted a knife on Allard because he was already convinced the person committing the indecent assaults and the rape were one and the same . . . And I don’t know what to do about it.’
‘Now you really are losing it, Jane, accusing a DI of planting evidence.’
She looked at Edwards and could tell he had doubts.
‘So you’re saying that senior officers aren’t dishonest?’
‘Come on, Jane, what would the point be in the guvnor planting a knife? It doesn’t take the case much further as there’s no other evidence that Allard committed the rape. He isn’t even charging him with the rape, so where’s your fit-up theory then?’
Jane looked confused. ‘He isn’t?’
‘Well, he only said to prepare the charges for the indecent assaults and the one on you, didn’t he?’
‘Well, he might charge him later.’
‘Why? He knows that if he did the Solicitors’ Department will read through the statements and see the inconsistences between the indecent assaults and the rape.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Jane, there’s no way they would run a trial with no positive identification and only the knife as evidence. So take my advice and let it drop.’
‘But it’s not right . . .’
‘If you say anything to DI Moran, or anyone else for that matter, then you can forget ever making detective.’
‘Are you being serious?’
‘Yes, I am. You’ll become persona non grata . . . no one will ever trust you, or work with you. Look at the way we all had to cover for Bradfield’s screw-up – even you.’
‘My God, Brian! Bradfield died! What we’re discussing here is whether someone planted evidence, or not.’
‘Someone? Someone . . . ? Nick Moran can be an arsehole, but he’s got a number of Commissioners’ commendations and is well respected. Apart from anything else I’ll get dragged into something that might get blown out of all proportion. I’ve only been a DC for three years and I’m not prepared to screw up my career.’
‘I understand your predicament, and under the circumstances I’ll let it rest.’ She walked out, unable to discuss it further as Edwards obviously didn’t want to continue.
As Jane walked along the corridor towards the ladies’ locker room DCS Metcalf was heading towards her wearing a smart suit and tie. Jane saluted and said, ‘All correct, sir,’ which was the normal address to senior officers. Metcalf smiled and informed her that ‘All correct’ is fine to a detective and that the salute was for senior officers in uniform.
‘It’s just force of habit,’ Jane replied.
‘DI Moran has been updating me on your arrest of Allard and how well you coped under extreme pressure. I’m impressed, congratulations on an excellent job.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jane. ‘Could I possibly have a word about my future career and becoming a detective?’
Metcalf looked at his watch. ‘I saw the result of your final probationer’s exam – your marks were excellent and top of the class. As it happens, after speaking with DI Moran I was going to have a chat with you about your future, but I have an appointment to go to right now. What shift are you on tomorrow?’
‘I’m on my CID attachment and not sure whether I’ll be on a late or early shift.’
‘I see. I’m out all afternoon and won’t be coming back to the station.’
‘I could come in early? In my own time if necessary?’ Metcalf agreed. ‘See me in my office at ten a.m.’
Feeling exhilarated by his compliments, Jane went into the ladies’ and then returned to the CID office. DC Edwards was at his desk writing up the charges. He raised his finger and pointed to DI Moran’s office and mouthed, ‘He’s in there.’ She quickly grabbed a CRO 74 from the file cabinet and after putting some carbon paper between the sheets placed it in a typewriter. She opened her pocket book and started to fill out all of Allard’s details and circumstances of arrest to be placed on criminal records at Scotland Yard.
‘Has one of you two been going through my files? The statements are out of order.’
Jane looked up and saw a stern-faced Moran standing in his office doorway holding up the Indecent Assaults file. She looked at Edwards and knew that she had to tell him it was her, but she was so nervous she couldn’t instantly think of a valid reason. As she turned back to Moran, Edwards suddenly spoke up.
‘Sorry, sir, I was looking through the file and dropped it by mistake. I didn’t realize I’d put things back in the wrong order.’
‘What were you looking through them for?’
‘I couldn’t read one of the victims’ names on your list and I just wanted to double-check it against the statement for the charge sheet.’
‘Well, next time ask me . . . I don’t like people rummaging around on my desk.’
‘Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again,’ Edwards said.
Jane mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Edwards as Sergeant Harris walked in.
‘Allard’s wife has rung to ask if she can visit him,’ Harris announced.
Moran shrugged. ‘She can, but not until tomorrow morning as we have to formally charge, fingerprint and photograph him this evening.’
‘OK, I’ll ring her back and inform her.’
Having completed the criminal records form Jane was tired and decided to go back to the section house rather than go for a drink. It was only a ten-minute bus ride and she always stood on the footplate ready to hop off at her stop. As the bus travelled down the road she noticed a tall, statuesque girl pushing a pram with a toddler in it. The girl was dusky skinned, and had long dark hair that hid most of her face. What caught Jane’s interest was that she was wearing a pale blue rabbit fur coat, identical to the one she had worn as a decoy. She shuddered as she recalled what had happened to her at the hands of Peter Allard. It really sunk home that she could have been seriously assaulted, to the point of Grievous Bodily Harm, if it hadn’t been for Moran and Edwards.
