Hidden Killers

by Lynda La Plante

  “I heard about it when I had to make out the report.”

  “Who interviewed you at Hackney?”

  Janet turned away. “I don’t remember, I was in bad shape, I just wanted to get home. I had to go back cos I didn’t want to take it any further.”

  Jane leaned closer. “When you went back to Hackney Station did you give the knife to DI Moran? It’s very important you tell me, because the young rape victim remembered her assailant held a knife to her throat.”

  “Yeah, I did . . . but if it gets him into trouble I’ll deny it.”

  Outside Gibbs got to the butt of his third cigarette and tossed it down on the ground impatiently. He had seen that Janet was talking so had kept his distance, his back toward the car. He turned as he heard the car door open and saw Jane getting out of the patrol car. She walked toward him, pulling the collar of her jacket up as the wind was whipping around the open section of the car park.

  “Moran is in the clear for the connection to the blackmail. That’s all down to Angie, aka Janet . . . but we need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

  Gibbs glared at her. “Really?”

  “Yes. She was attacked later on the same night the young girl was raped. She was almost killed and fought like a wild cat. She would have been dead if a uniform officer hadn’t found her. The rape victim wasn’t discovered until early morning as she was unconscious and hidden in bushes.”

  “How much longer is this gonna take? I’m freezing my bollocks off up here.”

  “Don’t you understand, Spence? The two cases were not connected straight away. The rape victim is an innocent seventeen-year-old. It was Moran who sifted out the possibility that the attacks were both committed by the same man, but it took him two weeks before he brought ‘Mary Kelly,’ Angie, who we now know to be Janet Brown, in for questioning.”

  “What evidence has she got, Jane?”

  “She snatched the balaclava off his face . . . she recognized him.”

  “And that’s it?” Gibbs asked.

  Jane hesitated and decided against repeating to him that Janet had admitted giving the knife to Moran to use as evidence. If, as she had said, she were to deny it, it could create even more of a problem for Moran.

  “So she admitted the blackmail?”

  “Yes, she lied about having evidence so that she could blackmail Marie Allard.”

  Janet began banging and shouting for them to let her out, and they both started to move toward the car.

  Gibbs stopped and turned to her.

  “Listen, Tennison. This is not my case . . . I’ve already done my part tonight. I was only interested in checking out Moran, and that’s what I’ve done. He’s not a bent copper, as I knew he wouldn’t be. I’m not involved, all right? You were on this business at Hackney, so now it’s down to you to do the run around and report to Moran in the morning.”

  Jane was in a quandary. She really hadn’t expected Gibbs to just leave her to handle all the new information, but she had no option. They drove Janet to a high rise council estate, where she was staying with her mother who was caring for her little boy. She had grown very quiet in the car and moaned about her hip hurting. Gibbs helped her out of the rear passenger side and she walked very slowly toward the entrance of her block. He stayed with her as she got into the dirty lift, which stank of urine, and the floor was littered with cigarette butts.

  “Which floor?”

  “Six . . . the button someone has stubbed a cigarette out on.”

  He watched her press the button, and as the gates started to close he stepped out.

  Gibbs was silent as he drove Jane back to the section house. She had attempted to be a team player, but she really felt as if she was on her own again.

  He parked up and decided to go across the road to the Warburton Arms, where he knew he could get a drink even after closing time. The first person he saw, playing snooker, was DI Nick Moran.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The following morning Jane was in the ladies’ locker room and hadn’t even taken off her coat when Edith walked in.

  “You’d better get over to Hackney—DI Moran has called three times. He says he has an update on the Allard trial. I’ll make a note in the schedule that that’s where you’ll be.”

  “Is DI Gibbs in?”

  “He’s in, but he’s having a meeting with DCI Shepherd and left instructions that he didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  Jane had a terrible sinking feeling as she left Bow Street. She was sure that Spencer Gibbs had gone behind her back and spoken to Moran. Her fears were confirmed when, on arriving at the reception in Hackney Station, DC Brian Edwards told her that DI Moran was waiting to see her in his office, and he wasn’t a happy man.

  Moran was perching on the edge of his desk, his office door open, as Jane approached.

  “Sir . . .” Her stomach was churning.

  “Shut the door behind you. You know, Tennison, if you were a bloke I would grab you by your collar and throw a punch at your smug little face. I don’t know what you think you’ve been playing at, but I am going to hear what you’ve got to say before I get you back in uniform directing traffic.”

  “I am not in any way smug, sir, I’m just very nervous. I never had any intention of acting on my own, it was just circumstances and my need to double-check before I brought my findings to anyone’s attention, especially yours.”

  Moran leaned forward, pulling his loud tie loose from his shirt collar.

  “I’m all ears . . .”

  “May I refer to my notes?”

  Moran gave the go-ahead with his hands. Jane opened her bag and took out her notebook.

  “You can obviously verify the dates, sir. On the night of the twenty-third of August uniform officers brought in a prostitute called Janet Brown. She had been badly beaten and had a deep knife wound to her chest and left breast, which required hospital treatment. She was photographed and a report made out but she refused to press charges, claiming that she was unable to identify the man as he had worn a balaclava.”

  Moran stared at her, his blue eyes holding hers, and acted as if what she was saying was obvious.

  Jane continued.

  “The CID were brought in to investigate the rape of a young girl who was found semiconscious on the morning of the twenty-fourth of August. She had suffered a terrible beating and was unable to identify the rapist as he had worn a black woolen mask covering his entire face. But time wise it was possible that she had been raped earlier the same night as Janet Brown. But the two cases were not, to begin with, linked as having the same perpetrator.”

  He banged his chair to sit forward. “I linked them.”

  “I know you did, sir, because you brought in Janet Brown, under the assumed name of Mary Kelly, and requisitioned her. But this was two weeks later, when you organized a CID operation and used me as a decoy. I believe you gave me the blue rabbit fur coat as it was probable that the rapist intended Janet Brown to be his victim, and not the young girl.”

  Moran leaned forward, and flicked through a statement, not looking at Jane. He then sighed and picked up a pencil.

  “The prostitute—Janet Brown, Mary Kelly, Angie—was unable to identify her attacker and refused point blank to assist my operation, which was why I held her in the cells. She was released the following morning after we had arrested Peter Allard.”

  “I know that, sir. I also know that she is capable of identifying him. She pulled his balaclava off when he was attacking her.”

  “Perhaps what you don’t know, Tennison, is that Janet Brown, aka Mary Kelly, aka Angie, had stolen a bag of takings from a taxi around about a month beforehand . . . it was a lot of money, nearly four hundred quid as he had been doing airport runs. He had argued about paying her after sex, so she stole it and did a runner. So now we have a known hooker who steals a load of money from Peter Allard. When he did catch up with her he beat the shit out of her, because she was a thief. Are you following me, Tennison?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sir . . . I didn’t know that it was Janet who had stolen Allard’s money . . .” She swallowed and took a deep breath.

  “No, you didn’t know . . . but I did. So you tell me, what a jury are going to believe? A known tart with a long list of previous arrests for prostitution, or are they going to say she deserved what she got and that he didn’t rape her? He’s a hard-working man with a wife and two kids. It was the first time he had ever been arrested . . . look at how he behaved in court, head hanging down and weeping, all innocent. He even admitted that he did fondle a few women, but he denied rape.”

  Jane couldn’t look at him.

  “I wanted him for the rape of that innocent seventeen-year-old girl. I wanted him charged with sexual assaults that I had no evidence to prove he did, but I knew he did them. Look at the way he attacked you and how he acted in court and what you were subjected to by his council. So you tell me, why would I not use Janet Brown as a witness?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “She is a tart . . . but she’s also an informer and has been for years. One court appearance and she’s no use to us. You have no idea just how useful she has been. And you think after one conversation with her that you know her?”

  “But she was blackmailing Marie Allard, sir.”

  Moran threw up his hands and laughed, becoming increasingly impatient.

  “That’s how she survives, Tennison! Allard cut her breasts and scarred her . . . he would have killed her if we hadn’t stopped him.”

  Jane was unable to hold back.

  “So you knew what Allard had done to Janet Brown, and yet you made me wear her blue fur coat and planted me as a decoy, knowing that he had almost killed her?”

  Moran lifted his arms up again.

  “Yes, I own up to that. We lost sight of you for a few minutes. But it was only a few minutes . . .”

  “So, I’m wearing Janet Brown’s blue fur coat . . . you want Allard to think I am her and for him to attack me, so that you can arrest him? Because you already had the knife he used in the rape, and when he slashed Janet.”

  Moran folded his arms. After a long pause he spoke. For the first time she could see he was uneasy, eventually choosing his words carefully.

  “What choice do I have? I’m pretty certain he may be connected to a murder that occurred five years ago. If I don’t put him away he’s going to kill again.”

  Moran stood up and opened his office door. Jane didn’t know how to react to the fact that he had just virtually admitted to planting evidence. As if he was reading her mind Moran gently touched her shoulder.

  “It was all on the level, OK? Now, come with me. I want to show you something.”

  Moran walked ahead of her and went into the incident room. DC Brian Edwards was standing in front of the information board.

  “It’s not positive news from Maidstone, guv. The Chief Superintendent there said we would need a lot more incriminating evidence to excavate the garden at the house the Allards used to rent.”

  Moran sighed as Edwards moved away from the board. Pinned up were the photographs they had pulled out from the cold files at Maidstone. Moran tapped the board with his pencil.

  “This is what we’re looking into, Tennison, and we need to question—”

  Jane interrupted as she saw the photograph of Susie Luna with the rose in her hair.

  “Marie Allard?”

  Moran hesitated. “What did you just say?”

  “That’s a photograph of Marie Allard.”

  “No, it isn’t, it’s the missing girl from five years ago. Her name is Susie Luna.”

  “Oh, sorry . . . they look so similar.”

  Moran glanced at Edwards, then back to Jane.

  “Marie Allard gave her husband a cast-iron alibi for the day Susie Luna went missing. I think we need to go and have a chat with her.”

  “I would really appreciate it if I was allowed to accompany you—Marie Allard trusts me. In fact, she called me personally to tell me she was being blackmailed by Janet Brown who referred to herself as Angie and sang a song and—”

  “Did she now?”

  Edwards raised his hand. “Can I have a quiet word, guv, in your office?”

  “Sure. DC Ashton, show Tennison the files we’ve got on Susie Luna.”

  Edwards closed Moran’s office door behind them.

  “Did everything go all right, guv?”

  “Yes. Just a misunderstanding. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Two things . . . we received confirmation this morning of a trial date for Peter Allard, in two weeks’ time.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time to investigate the Susie Luna connection, does it?”

  “I’m afraid there may be another problem, sir. Apparently the barrister who represents Allard has raised doubts about his confession and has requested an independent forensic examination of the interview notes. In particular, the confession that Allard supposedly signed.”

  “Shit . . . that’s all I bloody need. I’m going to take Tennison with me to interview Marie Allard. The last time we were there with SOCO we pulled the bloody house apart, so I’m taking Tennison along to give the gentle touch . . . maybe have a woman to woman chat with her.” Moran smiled.

  “I wouldn’t mind coming along after all the new information we’ve uncovered . . .”

  “No, I want you to man the fort here, Edwards. I’m only taking Tennison with me to keep her sweet.”

  “Gone sour on you, has she, sir?”

  “You could say that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Moran parked up outside the Allards’ house.

  “She’s very nervous, sir. It might take a while for her to come to the front door.”

  “Take as long as you like, I’ll be here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Moran watched Jane walk away, then down the small pathway leading to the doorway where she rang the bell. He saw her step back and look up at the first-floor window, and then move closer to the door. It was another few minutes before the door opened and Jane stepped inside.

  Marie replaced the chain lock. Jane waited for her to turn, and was taken aback by the way she looked. Her hair was lank, she had lost even more weight and seemed shrunken and shaking with nerves. Jane dropped her bag to the floor and held out her arms, hugging Marie. “I am so sorry not to get back to you before now, but it has taken such a long time and I wanted to come to see you personally as I didn’t want any of the officers here when I tell you what I have found out. I know how much it will affect you.”

  Marie stepped away, her eyes wide with anxiety. Jane put an arm around her shoulders and suggested that they went into the lounge to sit down. Marie seemed to calm down as Jane sat on the sofa opposite her.

  “I am so sorry to be the one to tell you, but the woman that was blackmailing you is not connected to the police. She was attacked by your husband and suffered a terrible beating that has scarred her for life. She was not prepared to identify him before, but she is now prepared to go to court.”

  Jane was surprised at how easily she was able to lie, because in reality she knew that Janet Brown would not go to court.

  Marie pressed her body back in the easy chair and clasped her hands together.

  “He has lied to you, terrible lies . . . the rape victim was just a young, vulnerable teenager. She won’t ever recover from the ordeal, and you know that he also attacked me, and if the police officer hadn’t been there . . .” Jane’s performance was getting better by the second as she lowered her head and ran her fingers over her lips, reminding Marie about when she had first seen her with her lips cut.

  “Oh my God,” Marie said, clasping and unclasping her hands.

  Jane left a long pause, taking out a handkerchief from her pocket and blowing her nose. Marie seemed unable to look directly at her; she was so tiny and vulnerable and trembling, but even though Jane felt sorry for her she had to use that to get some answers.

  “How lo
ng did you know, Marie, that he was leaving you and your two children and going out to attack and rape women? How long have you known he was evil? Do you realize that you made the reality invisible to yourself, refused to smell the sex? You could smell them on him, couldn’t you?”

  “No . . . no . . . that’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is, Marie, don’t lie. You kept that room upstairs locked. You said it was to protect your children but you knew what was in there, and you used to go into that room when you were here alone . . . didn’t you?”

  “No . . . no, I did not. He would never . . .” She stopped.

  “What did he do to you when he found out you were looking in that room, seeing those disgusting pornographic magazines? You knew when he was on steroids and behaving like a crazy man . . . you knew and you kept quiet because you didn’t want to know the truth. But he will be out soon, Marie, and he will come back here, and you will have to live with it all over again.”

  Jane knew that some of what she was saying was getting through, as Marie bent forward, clutching at her stomach.

  “He will get out, Marie, he will come back unless you stand up and face the truth. You said to me that you couldn’t have sex and that was the excuse . . . that is his excuse. He blames you—it’s all your fault that he went with those women and raped and assaulted them. It’s your fault because he says you couldn’t have sex. You lied about it to me, but it isn’t true, is it? What did he do to you, Marie?”

  Her face crumpled and she began to sob uncontrollably. Jane felt for her but she knew she had to plow on because Marie had not yet admitted knowing the truth about her husband or if he had, as Jane suspected, abused her.

  “Why don’t you tell me, Marie, because I am really trying to understand why you appeared to be adamant your husband was innocent, when I can see the pressure you have been under with the blackmail and the threats . . .”

  “I been frightened of him, always frightened. He made me do things, always he threatened to take my children from me, so I stay, but if I make him happy he would not beat me. If I not do what he want he would lock me up and take children to his mother. Always he threaten me so I do what he wants.”