Hidden Killers

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jane was off duty at the weekend, and she had agreed to go home to visit her parents. Mrs Tennison had made roast chicken with all the trimmings, roast potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and her usual gravy from the roasting tin. Jane’s sister Pam and her brother-in-law were at some hairdressing function in Birmingham as Pam had been doing a special hair tinting course and wanted Tony there for the weekend.

‘That’s good news. Is there anything I can do to help with lunch?’ Jane said.

‘No no, dear, everything’s done but the dessert. Pam’s back at work and might even win the colouring competition as they have to cut and recolour and style with models. I doubt Tony will be all that interested, but they have a double room at a very nice hotel,’ Mrs Tennison said proudly.

‘That’s good,’ Jane said, as her attention was drawn to a newspaper placed on the sideboard while her mother added the finishing touches to lunch. She picked it up and took it into the sitting room, never having time to read the newspaper while at work. She was shocked at the headline, ‘Murder in the Bath accused couple to stand trial’, and the press coverage was extensive, with photographs of Katrina Harcourt being led into the court. The redhead was smiling as if enjoying the moment, unlike the photographs of Barry Dawson who had a blanket covering his head. By the time Jane had finished reading the article her father had opened a bottle of wine.

‘That’s a shocking case, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, the CID at the station investigated and it was a very complicated case as the young wife in the bath was wrongly diagnosed as being a non-suspicious death, but when we had a second post-mortem it revealed another wound had been inflicted. The suspects were having an affair and it was a very complicated inquiry to be able to charge them with murder. The trial will not go ahead for months.’

‘Good God, and she looks such an attractive woman! So were you involved in the investigation?’

Jane hesitated and then nodded, but not wanting to go into details she collected the newspapers and stacked them ready to be thrown out.

Her mother, who had overheard the conversation, found it difficult to ask Jane about her work as a police officer. She gave her husband a shake of her head as a warning not to continue. Her father steered the conversation back to safer waters, but after a couple of glasses of wine, while Mrs Tennison tried to make a crème brûlée, her father topped up her glass and asked quietly, ‘So it must have been quite a time for you at Bow Street?’

Jane raised her glass and took a sip. How could she even begin to explain about the tragic murder of Shirley Dawson, or the forthcoming trial of Peter Allard? To tell him about the time spent in and around the sex shops and strip joints of Soho, or even the interaction with the beautiful Janet Brown? It was all so far removed from the warmth and normality of being at home with her family.

They sat down together and enjoyed the main course but her mother was in a state of anxiety as the toffee crisp on top of her crème brûlée had hardened like cement and her father was worried he’d break the denture plate in his mouth.

‘I must have used too much sugar; it’s not that bad is it, Jane?’ her mother asked.

‘No, it’s fine,’ she said with clenched teeth.

‘It’s supposed to just crack when you tap it with a spoon.’

‘You should have used a hammer!’ her father said.

This made Jane smile, and as they were trying to chew through the very hard topping, all three of them suddenly started laughing.

‘It’s so good to be home,’ Jane said, feeling emotional.

Her father screwed up his face again as he chewed and then swallowed.

‘Well, it’s perfect for us to have you safe and sound, because we miss you.’

The phone suddenly started ringing in the hallway. Mr Tennison stood up and went to answer it. A moment later he called out to Jane.

‘It’s for you, Jane.’

‘For me?’ she asked, surprised. She walked over and took the receiver from her father.

‘Hello?’ she said into the mouthpiece.

‘Jane, it’s me, Spence. I’m in a callbox at the end of your road… I need to see you. Can you come and meet me?’

Jane laughed. ‘Are you asking me out on a date, Spence?’

‘No… we’ve got a nightmare on our hands, Jane. Peter Allard’s been released.’

‘Give me five minutes, all right?’

Jane didn’t want to show her parents how disturbed she was by Gibbs’s phone call.

‘I’m sorry, but I have to go in to the station. There’s some confusion about one of my reports.’

‘Oh, don’t you have time for a coffee?’ her mother asked.

‘No, Mum, I’m sorry but if I can I’ll come back later.’

She walked down to the end of the road and found Gibbs standing beside a patrol car parked next to the callbox.

‘Is this a joke, Spence?’

‘No, it’s deadly serious. Moran is going crazy. Apparently Marie got a call from him from the prison, and even though she was warned not to mention anything or refer to the present inquiry about Susie Luna, she told Allard she wanted a divorce, that she knew about Angie.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah, her idea of revenge, but the stupid bitch has really screwed up because he’s fucking got compassionate bail until his trial.’

‘I don’t believe it, not after what we uncovered about his connection to Susie Luna.’

‘You don’t understand, Jane… that’s an entirely separate investigation, and if they find a body they can arrest him straight after the trial.’

‘But you’re not even working on Allard’s case. What do you want me to do?’

‘I know I’m bloody not, but Moran wants protection for Janet Brown. He contacted me because he knew that we had taken her to her mother-in-law’s flat at the council estate. So I need you to come with me to go back there again and get her into protective custody.’

When DI Moran found out, he was apoplectic with fury. He had only just returned from Maidstone where Scenes of Crime officers were waiting for permission to lift the paving stones from the small patio garden of the property that had been rented by Allard. They had run into a problem as the actual owner of the house had sublet it and they would require his permission to begin working. DC Edwards had also discovered that the garden had only been paved over during Allard’s occupation. They had no option but to wait for permission to start digging.

Moran’s blood pressure was going through the roof. He had contacted Detective Chief Superintendent Metcalf and wanted to update him on the Susie Luna case and he had agreed to come into the station, but he had to wait for over an hour.

‘Sir, all I was told when I was at Maidstone was that a trial date had been set for two weeks’ time. I’ve now been informed that they have released Peter Allard on compassionate grounds. They’ve just let a killer walk out, sir.’

Metcalf gestured for Moran to calm down.

‘I can’t do anything about that, because this is a very complex situation, Nick. I don’t want to have to underline this to you but it is the inconsistencies in Allard’s confession that have given the barristers and the judge the opportunity to release him. Apparently his wife wanted to divorce him and take his children and he begged to be given the opportunity to see her.’

‘Yes, I know that, sir, and I want her and their two children put into protective custody, because if he is on the loose God knows what he is going to do. And we now have a strong witness that has agreed to identify him with evidence on the rape charge and in my estimation he’s going to go after her.’

Metcalf flicked through the statements and notes.

‘The prostitute Janet Brown?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘She used the name “Angie”, among others, but he must now know she is a valuable witness if his wife told him she knew about her.’

Metcalf continued to read the reports as Moran waited impatiently.

‘This Susie Luna situation, you don’t have enough evidence. She was reported missing five years ago, and these accusations from an aggrieved wife are not enough. But if you want them protected, go ahead… and just keep your powder dry. I’ll leave you to handle it.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Peter Allard, carrying a small overnight bag, stepped out of the prison gates. Unshaven and already over-anxious because of the wait he had been subjected to before he was released, he hurried to get to the nearest phone kiosk. He had only a small amount of change which had been taken from his pocket when he was brought in to the prison.

DC Edwards drove DI Moran in a patrol car to the Allards’ house. They parked up outside, and DC Ashton approached the car and opened the back passenger door.

‘He hasn’t shown yet, guv… We’ve got her and the kids in a safe house. When I told her he had been released, she was terrified. I thought she was going to collapse.’

‘This is bloody unbelievable, isn’t it? They let a killer out on the loose, they don’t tell his wife, and even I wasn’t told until this morning.’

‘We don’t yet know for sure if he is a killer.’

‘Yes, thank you, Edwards. Either way they’ve bloody released a man accused of indecent sexual assault, a man who’s also been told the name of the key witness in the case against him.’

‘How did Allard manage to get out?’ Ashton asked.

‘His confession was thrown out due to inconsistencies, and as he has been on remand for some time, and the only firmed-up evidence we’ve got is sexual assault, he was granted bail. He just needs to go back for his trial in two weeks. If he finds out that we’re on to him regarding the Susie Luna case, he’ll do a bloody runner. You go back to the station and keep in contact on the radio if you hear anything.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ll get the Underground then. I’ve been here since early this morning.’

‘Get back any way you can, go on, but stand by as we might need you, I’ve only got a handful of officers.’

Ashton, rather disgruntled, walked off down the road as he was also supposed to have the weekend off. He was tired out having been up all night with his new baby girl and his wife was exhausted. She would be really pissed off with him as he was now on standby at the station.

Moran lit a cigarette and checked his watch. Edwards saw a black taxi pull up in front of the house. Peter Allard stepped out of the passenger door.

‘Shit, here he is, guv,’ Edwards said.

‘Let’s see how he reacts to an empty house.’

Allard was wearing a pair of jeans and a denim shirt. They saw him leaning into the taxi driver’s window, and he appeared to be having a conversation. He then went up the path to the front door and rang the doorbell. He stepped back and looked up at the windows, then rang the bell again. When there was still no answer they saw him reach up to the top of the door frame and take down what was obviously a spare front door key.

Allard opened the door and replaced the key before he slammed the door behind him. Moran gestured to Edwards.

‘That’s Allard’s taxi cab, isn’t it? Go and check the driver out and get rid of him.’

Edwards climbed out of the patrol car, crossed over to the taxi and tapped on the driver’s window.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’

The driver answered, ‘Yes, I’m booked.’

‘No you’re not. This cab registered to you, is it? You got your cab driver’s licence?’

Moran saw the driver move off as Edwards returned to sit beside him.

‘He moved off fast but it’s Allard’s taxi, didn’t even have to show my warrant card.’

Allard stood in the neat and orderly lounge. He went out into the kitchen and immediately became suspicious as a meal had been left half-eaten on the table.

He headed up the stairs and saw the wooden slats nailed across his gym door. He placed one hand on either side of the door frame and kicked the door open. The room was in the same state of disarray as it had been when Moran and the SOCO had searched his house. The knives were all gone, but he picked up a nunchuck, swinging it by the chain. He then went into the children’s bedroom. The beds were unmade and the floor was strewn with toys.

‘Bloody untidy,’ he muttered, as he made his way to the master bedroom. It wasn’t like Marie to leave the house in such a mess. If nothing else she had always kept the place spick and span and even his mother had agreed with that.

‘Bitch!’ he exclaimed, as he saw that the wardrobe doors were wide open. Some of the clothes were lying on the bed and it was evident that Marie had packed in a hurry. He twisted the chain in his hand and swung the nunchuck down hard on the bed.

Gibbs and Jane stepped into the stinking lift of the council block and went up to floor six.

‘Which flat did she go into?’ Jane asked.

‘I dunno… I just saw her into the lift and she asked for the sixth floor. I didn’t go up with her, so we’ll have to try them all. I’ll start at 600, you start at 640…’

Moran looked at his watch. ‘He’s been in there over an hour.’

Edwards yawned. ‘Maybe this is a waste of time. It doesn’t look as if he’s going anywhere.’

‘Yes, he was. He asked that taxi to wait for him.’

Inside the house Allard pulled on a black tracksuit and a pair of Adidas trainers. He looked out of the window and swore when he saw that the taxi had gone.

‘Bastard!’ he muttered. He then put in a call using the phone in the hallway. He needed cash, as he’d not found any in the house.

He went into the kitchen, put two slices of bread on a plate, buttered them, and opened the cupboard to take out a jar of Marmite.

Gibbs and Jane had no luck with their door to door enquiries. Nobody had heard of Janet Brown, Mary Kelly or Angie, and no one had seen a black girl with a toddler. By now they had knocked on every door on the sixth floor. Two flats had not answered so the residents could be out. In most cases the occupants were abusive, slamming their doors shut. No one wanted to admit to knowing anyone when the police were involved.

‘Well, that’s it then,’ Gibbs said.

‘You know who I think might know where she is, and if she’s working one of the clubs? That ginger-haired boy, Philip.’

‘Christ! Does that mean another trek into Soho?’ Gibbs moaned.

‘You don’t have to come with me, Spence. I’ll find her on my own,’ Jane said tetchily.

‘Listen, Jane, I’ve already explained about Moran. I just covered my arse, all right? I didn’t drop you in it, but you have to learn you can’t just hurl dirt at a good officer like Moran without severe consequences. I was looking out for him, OK? I didn’t even intend talking to him but he was in the pub and asked what was going down…’

‘All right, all right. Are you going to come with me, or not?’

‘Yes… but it’s my day off, as well you know,’ Gibbs said, reluctantly.

They returned to the patrol car and Gibbs radioed in to Moran to say they had not been able to warn Janet Brown so they were now going off to see if she was working one of the strip clubs.

Moran was becoming impatient. After receiving the call in from Gibbs he had hoped they would be able to follow Allard and see if he led them to Janet Brown. As there was no show, he was not going to wait any longer but would go into the house and check it out. He slammed out of the car, and Edwards hurried after him. He kicked the door in and shouted, ‘Police… POLICE!’

They moved from room to room, unsure if Allard was in the house. Not finding him downstairs, Moran went cautiously up to the landing, while Edwards looked in the cupboard under the stairs. The door to the room used by Allard as a gym was half open, the splintered wood all over the carpet. Moran eased the door open wider with his foot before entering but it was empty; he then went into the bedroom. All the wardrobe doors were wide open, and disturbingly there was an array of women’s clothes left torn and shredded over the bed. Moran then hurtled down the stairs as Edwards yelled from the kitchen, ‘He was onto us, he’s just legged it.’

The kitchen window looked out over the small back garden. It had a low fence; each property had a similar type, and the end of terrace had a high brick wall. Edwards and Moran watched Allard climbing up and taking two attempts to make it to the top.

‘Get out, cut him off,’ Moran shouted.

As Edwards raced down the road, Moran hurtled out of the front door and threw himself into the patrol car. He started up the engine and did a fast U turn, the tyres screeching as he drove to the end terraced house.

Edwards was bending over, panting and gasping for breath, and they could both see the black taxi disappearing down the road.

‘Shit.’ Moran hit the steering wheel with his hand as Edwards got in beside him.

The numerous small turnings up ahead gave no sighting and Edwards radioed in to Gibbs to inform him they were following a black taxi with Allard as passenger.

Moran shook his head. ‘We’re not following, we’ve bloody lost him.’

‘There it is, up ahead,’ shouted Edwards. Moran put his foot down and at speed overtook the taxi and swung the car to stop directly in front of the vehicle. There was no passenger, just a very startled cab driver who put his hands up in the air, terrified.

Gibbs and Jane were walking down Berwick Street. They had stopped by various strip clubs, some closed and not opening until the evening. At one small dingy club, Gibbs had removed a photograph of Janet, and the bouncer was very unpleasant and abusive, saying she had not worked there for weeks, that she was black trash and a loud-mouthed bitch.

Armed with Janet Brown’s photo, they continued moving along the road, and stopped at the adult bookshop. The blinds were down, and the ‘closed’ sign in the window. Gibbs hammered on the door but no one answered as it was too early in the afternoon, and Berwick Street was almost empty.

‘Let’s do another round of the clubs,’ Gibbs said, as they moved off. They were just turning into Wardour Street when Peter Allard got out of the Underground station in Oxford Street. He did not go via Wardour Street but walked down Regent Street, turning left into Argyle Street and passing the Palladium Theatre, then Liberty and the Magistrates’ Court to head into Berwick Street from the opposite direction. He was very tense, constantly looking over his shoulder.

He got to the adult bookshop, but made no attempt to try to gain entrance by the shop’s front door; instead he eased warily towards the small white door beside it. It was chipped and peeling and had no number or door knob, but a substantial key hole, and just above it was a small eye hole for anyone on the other side to check who was at the door. He gave two bangs of his fist and waited; he then repeated it, and pressed closer.

He heard the key turning, and the door was inched open by Stevie, the pot-bellied owner, who was wearing a pyjama top, stained trousers and slippers.

‘Hello, Stevie, lemme in.’

‘Shit, we’re not fuckin’ open.’

‘Yes you are, lemme in.’

Stevie begrudgingly unhooked the chain and opened the door. He knew Allard because he was a regular customer and bought his porno magazines and steroids from the shop, but he didn’t like being bamboozled to open up. He walked along a dirty, bare-boarded narrow hallway, passing the door that gave access into the shop, Allard following behind. Above were the rooms the girls used for their clients and where Stevie had been sleeping. They continued into a small back room with racks of stacked magazines, some of them still boxed and some in an old locked cabinet as they were obscene adult pornography with graphic content. There were also drugs bagged and tagged, and bottles of extremely potent steroids.

‘What you want? Take your pick, but make it fast.’

Allard said he wanted the pills, not any magazines, and Stevie unlocked the cabinet, selecting the usual container and held it in his hand.

‘You got the cash?’

Allard dug into the deep pocket of his tracksuit jacket with his left hand as if he was about to hand over the cash, but he used his right to bring out the nunchuck he had tucked into his waistband at the back. He was so fast, Stevie didn’t see it coming, and the crack against his scalp was so vicious he sank to his knees. He tried to grab hold of one of the racks containing the magazines and it toppled over onto him. Allard stepped over the unconscious man, and picked up the container, before turning back and out into the small corridor.

He knew this area, knew the girls rented the upstairs squalid rooms. This was where he had first met that tart Angie, and this was the place the red-haired kid worked – the kid Marie had described, that took his money. Just thinking of his wife made him tense with rage. He’d find her and when he did, he’d beat the living daylights out of her.

He went up the stairs and checked each dingy room before he sat on one of the dirty sheets, opened the container and took a fistful of small yellow pills.

It was getting dark and Soho was coming alive. Gibbs and Jane met up with Moran in the car park they had used previously. By now Moran had assigned a few uniform officers to search for Angie as well as Allard. There was one positive piece of news, and that was they had now been granted permission to start lifting the paving stones at the Allards’ previous residence. As they had his passport they knew he could not escape abroad.

‘Allard will be looking for Janet, and as we’ve not been able to trace her, maybe he’s having the same problem.’

Jane said nothing. They were sitting in Moran’s patrol car and the smoke was making her eyes run as the men were all chain smoking.

‘She’s a wily lady. I mean, she took me inside that estate, I saw her get into the lift, and she was lying. Press the sixth floor, she said, it’s the one where someone stubbed their cigarette out. I saw her do it and then left. I never went up with her…’

Jane agreed. ‘We knocked on every door on the sixth floor, apart from two. Maybe we need to go back. None of the residents were that helpful, they just slammed the doors in our faces.’

Gibbs sighed. ‘Listen, this is not my case, pals. I’ve been legging it around all afternoon and it’s now getting dark; the tart could be anywhere, and so could Allard.’

Moran stubbed out his cigarette and turned to Jane. ‘You want to give it one more try at that estate, and I’ll do another round of the clubs? Spence, just drop her off, and Jane, radio in if you find her.’

Gibbs drove Jane out of the car park as Moran and Edwards started to head towards the red light district. They stopped to buy a hot dog each and then heard the ambulance approaching with the lights flashing and bell ringing. A uniform officer approached and said that there was an altercation in Berwick Street at the adult bookshop and the woman who owned it had called in the police.

Moran watched as the still unconscious Stevie was carried on a stretcher into the ambulance and the paramedics began to try to resuscitate him. His wife was sobbing and swearing at the same time as she said she would find the bastard. Her husband had only one dried wound to the side of his head; apart from that there was no other physical sign of violence. She said it had to have been some pervert after money but she had already locked up the cabinet of drugs.

Moran was standing in the corridor where the rack of magazines still lay on its side as Stevie’s wife became very agitated and wanted him to leave as she was going in the ambulance.

‘I got to lock up… you can come back another time.’

‘Shut up,’ Moran snapped.

‘I am not leaving without locking the doors, it’ll be an open bloody invitation, there’s stuff in here worth a lot of money.’

Moran turned on her and told her to be quiet again, when he saw a trail of blood, not from beneath the rack but closer to the small staircase. She tried to interrupt him again but he ordered her to go and get in the ambulance.

‘I can’t leave this place open,’ Ada wailed.

Moran ignored her and began to slowly move up the stairs. Spots of blood could be seen, and then as he reached the landing there were blood splatterings against the wall. He pushed open the door and could see the small figure curled on his side, his red hair matted with blood, his face badly beaten, blood bubbles gathered at his open mouth. Moran went over to him. The poor kid was terrified, his eyes wide, and he even tried to ward off Moran.

‘’S’all right, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you know who did this to you? Look at me, come on, I’ve got an ambulance outside. You know who beat you up?’

Ginger started crying and then nodded his head. ‘Big guy… he hit me wiv this thing on a chain. Oh God, he done me head in.’

‘Listen, you are going to be looked after, but tell me why he did this to you.’

Ginger spat out blood as Moran held him upright in a sitting position.

‘Angie, he wanted to know where Angie lives.’

‘Did you tell him?’

‘What you fuckin’ think, he was crazy. I told him.’

It was another few minutes before the boy was able to give Moran the address.

Moran picked the injured boy up in his arms and carried him out.

‘Oh Jesus God, that’s Ginger. Ginger, who would want to do something like that to him, he’s just a kid?’ Ada began screaming in hysterics as Moran carried the boy out into the street to the still waiting ambulance. He spoke urgently to Edwards.

‘We get the car and get over to Janet Brown’s estate. It has to have been Allard. Radio in to Gibbs that we’re on our way.’

Jane got out of the car and slammed the door.

‘I’m going,’ Gibbs said.

‘Fine, Spence, you go, or just wait until I come out and you can take me back to the section house. It’s my day off as well, you know.’

‘It’s not my bloody case,’ he moaned.

He watched her heading up the pathway to the estate entrance. She had the photograph of Janet Brown in her hand. She turned back and gave him a smile as she went in through the main doors. He felt a bit guilty. He knew he wouldn’t drive off and leave her, he was just pissed off at losing almost an entire day off.

Inside Jane stood in the lift and looked at the floor numbered buttons. Floor six did have a burn mark, as if someone had stubbed out a cigarette against it. The lift was rank, smelling of urine, and dried white chewing gum covered the filthy carpet. It moved slowly upwards, clanking and grinding. Once it lurched and she thought it was going to stop, but it continued upwards.

The lift door opened, and Jane stepped out. She headed for the two flats where previously there had been no answer. She rang 615 and waited but there was still no one at home. She moved to flat 620 and was about to ring the doorbell when a thin-faced woman with a trolley bag came towards her.

‘Excuse me, I am trying to contact this woman, she has a young child. Can you look at the photograph? I was told she lived on this floor.’

The woman moved closer and stared at the photograph of Janet Brown.

‘She’s round the corner by the stairwell, go through the doors.’

Jane smiled. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘That’s all right. I live here.’ She took out her keys to flat 620, and Jane moved down the corridor. They had made a mistake, presuming all the flats were located along the landing. They had not considered there was another flat by the stone stairwell.

Jane, annoyed at all the time they had wasted, pushed open the double doors. They had cracked panes of glass and graffiti on them, and where the old carpet stopped there was a stone floor leading onto the stairwell. The flat’s front door was painted green, chipped in places, and the brass letter box was in need of a polish. Jane had her hand on the old bell cemented into the wall. It also had brass surrounds but the button was missing. She put her hand out to push the letter box flap instead of knocking, but the door slowly opened a few inches. She hesitated and gently laid the flat of her hand to open it wider.

Still being very cautious, Jane moved a few steps into the hallway. A child’s pushchair and toys were left on the floor. A large red tin toy double-decker bus lay on its side. The carpet was threadbare but the hallway was clean, an old upright hoover was propped against a wall with a full basket of laundry beside it. Hanging on a hook was the blue rabbit fur coat, and with relief Jane knew she was in the right flat, so she walked more confidently towards an open door that led into the sitting room. It was worn but comfortable, a sofa and an easy chair with a big throw rug in front of an electric three bar fire. Jane was about to call out for Janet, but stopped as she could smell a strong sweet unpleasant smell of body odour.

Allard had seen Jane enter. He was in the kitchen at the far end of the hall, the door open just a crack. He’d beaten the hell out of the ginger-haired kid to get the address and he’d been waiting for Janet. By now, Allard was sweating and hyper, and he eased back towards a cabinet to open a kitchen drawer. It made a scratching sound as it opened and it contained dishcloths and tea towels. He tensed up, listening, and then eased back another drawer that contained kitchen knives.

Jane heard the noise as her heart began pounding. She was sure that someone was in the flat and the fear made her freeze, because she was certain it was Allard. She tried to control her nerves and think where the sound had come from, but as she didn’t know the layout of the flat, she couldn’t be sure. It felt as if she was trapped in the room. She took deep breaths, telling herself that the sound had to have come from the left at the end of the hallway, and she would have to get out of the room and run to her right to escape.

Gibbs lost his attention on the road for a moment, as Moran was on the radio saying they would be there in minutes, so he missed Janet Brown walking into the estate with a bag of shopping, only catching her as she walked into the reception area.

‘Nick, I think I’ve got her, she’s here at the estate,’ Gibbs said into the radio, getting out of the car. He ran into the flats’ entrance as the lift began to move upwards. He looked at the old dial, which didn’t work, unable to tell which floor it was moving to. He pressed the call button again and waited.

Jane had looked around the room for anything she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. She decided to run for it, and as she got to the hall the kitchen door flew open and Allard came at her, holding the knife up above him, making stabbing motions, and then slashing down towards her body. As she backed into the room, the knife wedged into the wooden door and he began dragging it loose.

When Janet got to her front door she was immediately suspicious as it was half open. She kicked it wider as she heard Jane screaming, and hurled the bag of groceries aside. Allard had his back to her and, turning to face her now with the carving knife free, he switched from attacking Jane and went for Janet. She picked up the old hoover and swung it at him. She didn’t release it, but swung it again and this time it knocked him into the door frame. He was screeching like a crazed animal and Jane came out, kicking at his legs, but he got back up on his feet screaming with rage. Janet now rammed him hard in the groin with the folded child’s buggy. He dropped the knife and yelped in agony. She grabbed the knife and was on top of him, holding it at his throat.

‘You want to know what it feels like, you scum. I’m gonna cut your throat, you bastard.’

Gibbs had done a frantic run, unaware as Jane had been about the flat by the stairwell; he now heard the screams, hurtled through the double doors and ran into the flat. Janet was losing her fight as Allard was able to push her aside – his strength was frightening. It took the three of them to get him down. Gibbs was punching and stamping on his prone body but Allard still attempted to get up. He was clawing at Gibbs and then punched him in the chest and he was by far stronger and starting to stand.

Jane was gasping for breath as she picked up the little boy’s tin bus and rammed it down on Allard’s head, knocking him face down and giving Gibbs the chance to drag his arms up and cuff him.

Janet was crying and laughing at the same time. She slumped against the corner and then started to sing in a screeching voice ‘The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round.’ She picked up the knife wanting to have another go at Allard. ‘He could have got my boy, he could have hurt my boy.’

‘Just knock it off, will you. Gimme that now.’

Gibbs had tied a towel around Allard’s head, so he was disoriented and cuffed, but still using his body like a ram and kicking out at anything as Jane and Gibbs hauled him into the lift.

Moran and Edwards screeched to a halt beside the patrol car. Edwards immediately went to assist Gibbs and get Allard in the car. Moran went directly over to Jane, and held her, asking quietly if she was all right. She nodded, and he gently touched her face.

‘You come back with me, Edwards will go with Gibbs and lock the bastard up. Come on, let me put you in the car. I won’t be long.’

Jane sank into the passenger seat, and closed her eyes. Moran had a few words with Gibbs and Edwards and then headed into the estate.

Moran found Janet sitting on the sofa, shaking and drinking from a bottle of brandy. ‘If she wasn’t here, he’d have killed me, I just thank Christ my mum took the kid to a friend’s cos I got to work and…’

‘Shush, shush,’ he said, sitting beside her. ‘We got him and you’re safe.’

She nodded. ‘You want me in court, Nick, I’ll do it, do whatever you want. She knocked him for six with the double-decker bus.’

‘Will you be all right?’

She nodded, taking another swig of brandy. ‘You make sure she’s all right because she was in here alone with him.’

‘I will, but you muddied the waters, Janet. What the hell were you doing blackmailing the bastard?’

‘I couldn’t work, I’m still red raw from where he sliced me, an’ I wanted to get something out of it. I had to get my mother-in-law over from Jamaica to look after my son, I was broke, Nick.’

He sighed. ‘Is it true you have evidence, I mean apart from being able to identify him?’

She took another mouthful of brandy.

‘Tell me, I am looking out for you, for Chrissakes, and I always have, but this is you pushing the limit… was it a lie?’

She hesitated and then slowly got to her feet. ‘It might mean nothin’, but when those coppers found me, I stuffed it into me bag along with you know what.’

Janet went to a cabinet and opened a drawer. She took out something wrapped in newspaper. ‘You can smell him on it, and I know he raped that young girl because he thought she was me, and I know you used that blonde copper in my fur coat because it was me he was always after.’

Moran frowned as she slowly placed the newspaper-wrapped parcel on the coffee table. As he reached over to open it she put her hand over it.

‘It’s all been my fault, Nick, cos I stole his money out of his cab and I know you was protecting me and couldn’t use me as a witness, and to be honest you have always been about the only person I could trust.’

‘You’ve certainly screwed me over, so what is it?’

Janet slowly opened the newspaper. It contained Peter Allard’s balaclava that she had ripped from his head. He didn’t touch it but rewrapped the newspaper around it. He knew it could not be used as evidence as it was too long after Allard’s arrest.

‘Will you still look after me, Nick?’

He got up and smiled, saying he would make sure she was taken care of. He had no idea what she had meant by the double-decker bus but he would find out.