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
