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 inquiries 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, 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 toward 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 odor 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 demeanor 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 inconsistencies 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 toward the ladies’ locker room DCS Metcalf was heading toward 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 10 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 traveled down the road she noticed a tall, statuesque girl pushing a pram with a toddler in it. The girl was dark 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.
Chapter Five
Jane walked into Hackney Police Station at 9:30 a.m., just as Marie Allard was coming out from reception. Jane realized that she must have visited her husband. Marie looked awful, as if she was in a world of her own. Jane called out her name but Marie carried on walking until Jane caught up with her.
“Marie, how are you doing?”
Marie suddenly broke down in tears. “I was prepared to stand by him for what he done, even though it was bad and wrong, but I could never forgive him for rape.”
“I understand. But although your husband initially lied about the assaults, he has always denied the rape and he isn’t being charged with it.”
Marie stepped back angrily. “What you talking about . . . he admitting it.”
Jane was shocked, instantly feeling that she had been stupid to have believed Allard’s lies and doubt Moran’s integrity.
“I’m so sorry . . . you must feel as if your world has been torn apart. Did he confess to you just now, during your visit?”
Jane was confused. “How do you know he confessed?”
Marie was in floods of tears. “That detective inspector who came to the house, he saw me just now in the station. He say Peter been charged with the rape and indecent assaults and he be remanded in custody at the court to stand trial.”
Jane was now even more shocked. “He confessed to DI Moran?”
“Yes, in an interview last night. I not believe it at first, but Moran show me Peter’s signed confession and I see his signature.”
Jane didn’t know what to say to Marie. She had genuinely believed that Peter Allard was innocent of the rape, but to hear that he had made a signed confession made her feel naïve and foolish for what she had said to DC Edwards about Moran planting the knife.
Jane told Marie that she had to go to work, and hurried into the station. She went straight to the CID office to speak with DI Moran. There were a few detectives at their own desks, but Moran’s office was empty. Jane went over to Edwards’s desk and spoke to him in a low voice.
“Where’s Moran?”
“He’s gone to the Magistrates’ Court with Allard, to object to bail.”
Flustered, Jane took a deep breath.
“Is it true that Allard signed a confession?”
Edwards nodded. He had a raging headache as he’d drunk too much at the birthday bash the previous evening.
“I can’t believe Allard signed a confession . . . were you present?”
Edwards could see some of the other detectives looking at them both.
“Not here, Jane,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
Jane waited impatiently for him in the locker room, tidying herself up in preparation for her meeting with Metcalf. She looked at her watch. There was only ten minutes left before she was due to be in his office.
DC Edwards walked in and shut the door.
“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, Brian, but I really thought Allard was telling the truth about not being involved in the rape. What did he say? I mean, why did he suddenly confess?”
Hidden Killers Page 8
