Hidden Killers. Lynda La plante

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Hidden Killers - Lynda La plante

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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

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