Murder Mile

Chapter Seventeen

When Jane saw the woman sitting on a bench in the foyer below a wanted poster of Aiden Lang, she realized she wouldn’t have to ask for ID. The resemblance was striking. She was a few years older, probably in her early thirties, very petite, with dark shoulder-length hair that was parted in the middle. She was casually dressed in a long white and brown afghan coat, blue turtleneck jumper and a red and white cotton ankle-length hippie skirt with drawstring waist. She was looking at the floor whilst nervously twisting the multi colored beads that hung around her neck.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison, Miss Lang.’

There was sadness in her eyes as she looked up. ‘My surname’s Peters. Lang is my maiden name. I’m Aiden’s sister.’ She spoke softly but clearly.

‘Thank you for coming to the station. I believe you want to talk to a detective about Aiden?’

The woman nodded and slowly stood up.

‘My DCI would like to speak with you. I’ll take you to his office.’ said Jane. ‘What’s your first name?’ she asked, as they walked up the stairs to the first floor.

‘Hilary.’

‘Do you live in Peckham, Hilary?’

‘No. I live in Woolwich with my husband. He’s a market trader in Beresford Square.’

‘I know that area. I worked at the forensic lab in the Royal Arsenal buildings, across from Beresford Square,’ Jane added, trying to make Hilary feel more at ease.

Jane introduced Hilary to Moran, who shook her hand and invited her to take a seat. Jane could see from his expression he’d also been struck by the likeness to Aiden Lang.

Moran smiled. ‘Thank you for coming in. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Are you happy for WDS Tennison to take notes of our conversation?’

Hilary nodded. Jane sat down and opened an A4 notebook. She thought Moran would get straight to the point, but first he asked her for some personal details.

‘Just for the record, would you mind giving me your full name, date of birth, address and family circumstances, please.’

‘Hilary Peters. Twentieth of February 1949. I live at sixty-four Wellington Street, Woolwich, with my husband John and our two children. John’s a market trader and I’m a yoga teacher,’ she added timidly.

‘How old are your children?’ Moran asked as he wrote the details down.

‘Charlotte’s five and Duncan is seven.’

‘They’re at school, I take it?’

Hilary nodded. ‘Yes, at St. Columbus Primary.’

Jane also recorded the details, assuming Moran wanted to check Hilary’s details with Woolwich Police and criminal records — standard procedure in a criminal investigation, even with witnesses.

Moran put his pen down. ‘I take it you’re aware your brother’s wanted on suspicion of three murders?’

Hilary was clearly trying to control her emotions, and didn’t answer immediately.

Moran tapped the table with his pencil. ‘I have to say, you’ve certainly taken your time getting in touch with us. Could you tell me why?’

She coughed into her hand. ‘Well, I never really watch television and didn’t pay much attention to the murders, until I saw Aiden’s picture and realized he was... a suspect. To tell the truth, I wasn’t even sure about coming here, because I know my brother is not capable of murder.’

Moran shrugged. ‘We have a lot of evidence that shows he is, including his fingerprints in two of the victims’ flats. Do you know where your brother is at present?’

Hilary was visibly shocked. ‘No, I haven’t seen him for at least two months. But I’ve spoken to him on the phone.’

‘And when was the last time you spoke with him?’ Moran asked.

‘A week or so ago. He phones every so often to see how me and the children are.’

Moran sat up. ‘Did he say where he was calling from?’

‘From a payphone in Peckham, I think, only because he said that’s where he was living, but he didn’t tell me an address or anything.’

Moran told Hilary her brother had been living at a homeless hostel in Peckham and the hostel was near where the first two victims were found.

Hilary looked stunned. ‘Why are you so sure Aiden killed them?’

‘The most recent victim was found in your brother’s hostel room and he’s not been seen since.’

Hilary gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘No. No, you’re wrong. Not Aiden. He’s never hurt anyone.’

‘He’s also wanted for failing to appear at court on assault and robbery charges, which he admitted when originally arrested.’

Hilary shook her head in disbelief, though Moran had omitted the full details of the incident.

There was a knock on the door and DI Gibbs entered, apologized for interrupting and handed Moran a file. Moran handed him a different file and asked him to get it typed up ASAP. Jane thought it odd that Gibbs would interrupt such an important interview unless the file he had handed Moran contained vital information. Jane looked questioningly at Moran, but he ignored her and continued his questioning.

‘What did you and your brother talk about during this phone call?’

Hilary seemed to get her emotions back under control and spoke calmly. ‘It was brief. I did most of the talking and asked him how he was doing. He seemed fine and said he’d ring next week.’

‘Has your brother visited you recently at home?’

‘Like I told you, not for a long time. Aiden and my husband don’t get on. Aiden doesn’t visit on a regular basis, but when he does it’s always when my husband’s at work.’

‘Why don’t they get on?’

Hilary paused, avoiding eye contact with Moran, and started fiddling with her beads again.

‘I could of course ask your husband what the problem is, but I’d prefer to hear it from you, Mrs. Peters,’ Moran said bluntly.

Hilary took a deep breath and looked at Moran. ‘My brother Aiden is gay. Because of his sexuality, my husband won’t talk to him or allow him in our house. My parents disapprove of him, too, but I don’t. I don’t judge Aiden. I accept him for who he is — a kind, gentle and loving person.’

Moran paused to let Jane catch up with her notes.

‘Where do your parents live?’

‘They moved to Betts Hill in Sussex five years ago.’

‘Is it possible your brother could be there?’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. They completely disowned him. They don’t speak to me, just because I keep in contact with Aiden.’

‘Does your brother have a boyfriend?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t ask him about his private life. Why do you keep saying “my brother” all the time? Does it upset you to call him Aiden?’ Hilary asked, her agitation growing.

Jane could sense from the steely look on his face that Moran thought Hilary was hiding something to protect her brother.

He leant forward. ‘We suspect your brother has been sexually abusing the nine-year-old son of one of our murder victims. Do you know Helen Matthews?’

Jane knew they had no evidence that Lang had abused Simon Matthews, so Moran was using this assertion as a scare tactic.

Hilary didn’t seem scared, but she was certainly offended. ‘Aiden is not a monster! He would never abuse or hurt a child, and whoever told you he did is lying!’ she said in a raised but steady voice.

‘You didn’t answer my question, Mrs. Peters.’

‘I don’t know anybody called Matthews,’ Hilary insisted firmly, ‘or the other victims that were in the paper. If I knew where Aiden was, I swear to you I’d tell him to give himself up and clear his name.’

‘Why are you being so defensive? What are you hiding?’

‘Why are you treating me like a suspect?’ Hilary retorted sharply. ‘I came here to offer you my help in finding Aiden.’

Jane thought the pressure to get results had made Moran too aggressive, and they were now in danger of losing the one person who could possibly get Aiden to give himself up. It was as if Moran was convinced that Hilary had come to the station fishing for information and was actually harboring her brother. Jane contemplated taking over the interview to try to placate her, but before she could, Moran was on the attack again.

‘I have officers on the way to your home address as we speak, Mrs. Peters. Is your brother there?’ he asked bluntly.

Hilary frowned. ‘I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t seen Aiden and he hasn’t been to my house in months.’

Jane knew Moran was lying about the search to intimidate Hilary, since they hadn’t known her address before the interview.

‘DI Gibbs is currently organizing a thorough search of your premises,’ Moran continued. ‘The officers attending will also speak with your neighbors about your family. If we find your brother, or any trace of him, you will be arrested for perverting the course of justice.’

Jane was shocked at Moran’s underhandedness as she realized he must have discussed his intentions with Gibbs before the interview. It was now obvious Moran had slipped Hilary’s details into the folder he’d handed Gibbs when he came into the room earlier.

Hilary shook her head in disgust. ‘Why do you need to involve my neighbors? Now they’ll think my husband and me are guilty of harboring a murderer!’

Moran shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had no choice.

Jane watched as Hilary sat upright, took some deep breaths to calm herself, then glared at Moran with contempt. ‘I pity you, Mr. Moran. You are a homophobic bigot, who perceives that gay men must be sick in the head and therefore more likely to be child abusers and murderers. You need to open your narrow little mind and understand that being gay doesn’t make you a bad person. You seem incapable of considering the possibility someone else murdered those poor women. I know Aiden didn’t do it. You can tell me till you’re blue in the face that he’s guilty — but I’ll never believe you.’

Moran shrugged again, but Jane could see it was just bravado. Hilary had struck a nerve.

‘Sermon over?’ he asked.

‘I was prepared to help you and persuade Aiden to give himself up, but now I want nothing more to do with you. Aiden is a far better person than you will ever be. If I do hear from him, you’ll never know about it, but rest assured I will tell him to keep running as he’ll never receive any form of justice from the likes of you.’ Hilary stood up, leant forward and looked Moran in the eye. ‘Unless you’re going to arrest me for something I haven’t done, I’d like to go.’

Moran looked at Jane and nodded towards the door. ‘Show her out.’

Hilary was silent as they walked downstairs to the foyer. Standing together at the front steps, Jane decided she had to say something so Hilary didn’t think she condoned Moran’s behavior.

‘I’m sorry for the way DCI Moran treated you. I had no idea he’d sent officers to your house.’

Hilary’s face relaxed slightly. ‘I could see that from the way you looked at him. But you shouldn’t be the one apologizing, officer. I know Aiden better than anyone. He’s confided in me all his life, and believe me, he is incapable of murder. I hope, for all our sakes, you find the person who did do it.’

For a moment Jane thought back to the discovery of the first victim. ‘This may sound strange, Hilary, but was Aiden ever in the boy scouts, cadet corps or anything like that?’

Hilary frowned. ‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s just something to do with the investigation. Has he ever done any type of job where he’d have learnt to tie different kinds of knots or ropes?’

‘No, that would be impossible for him.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘My brother was born with a partially clasped left thumb.’

Jane was puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Aiden’s thumb is slightly deformed. It faces in towards the palm of his hand, so he can’t straighten it. Every pair of shoes he ever had were slip-on as he can’t tie a shoelace because of his thumb.’

‘Do you know if Aiden was working?’

Hilary sighed. ‘He was, at a pub in Soho. I was told he got sacked for stealing from the till. I expect it was to feed his drug habit.’

Jane recalled the cleaner mentioning the needle and spoon in Aiden’s hostel room. ‘Was he a heroin user?’

‘Heroin? I don’t think he was on that stuff. Cannabis was his weakness, though he did tell me he occasionally popped a tablet of speed.’

Jane remembered her conversation with the barman at the Golden Lion, who said a woman came in looking for Aiden. Jane looked at Hilary and realized her hair color and style was similar to Helen Matthews.

‘Did you ever go to the Golden Lion looking for Aiden?’

‘Yes, but that was before those women were killed. If you don’t mind, officer, I really need to go. My husband will be angry about the police searching our house.’

Jane told Hilary she’d like to speak with her in more detail about Aiden and asked if they could meet in private. Hilary looked apprehensive, then told Jane she would think about it and maybe call her. Jane gave her the CID office phone number.

‘I really am sorry about what just happened. If you want to talk, then please call me.’

Jane returned to Moran’s office, feeling her anger at him building.

Moran looked up. ‘She say anything else to you?’

‘No, for some reason she wasn’t in the mood for conversation,’ Jane replied testily. ‘But she did tell me she went to the Golden Lion looking for her brother. So it was probably her the barman saw and not Helen Matthews.’

Jane picked up her notebook, but decided not to mention Lang’s clasped thumb in case Moran just said Hilary was lying to cover for her brother.

Moran sighed. ‘The officers searching her house in Woolwich just called in. So far there’s nothing to suggest Aiden Lang has been there. The neighbors were shown Lang’s photograph. No one recognized him.’

‘Looks like she was telling the truth then,’ Jane remarked.

Moran sensed a hint of sarcasm in her voice. ‘If you’ve got a problem with the way I interviewed her then spit it out.’

Jane knew better than to get into an argument. ‘I’ll go and type these notes up,’ she replied.

‘You’re going nowhere until you answer me,’ he growled.

‘I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to give my opinions, sir,’ Jane replied evenly. ‘You are leading the investigation, so you make the decisions.’

Moran laughed. ‘I could see from the sour look on your face you didn’t approve of the way I interviewed her. I don’t have time to listen to how wonderful Hilary Peters thinks her brother is, or pussyfoot around being nice when she refuses to accept he’s a murderer. I’m not going to be accused of failing to do my job, Tennison. Searching her house and speaking with the neighbors is a necessary part of the investigation.’

‘As I said, sir, you make the decisions. I’m sorry if I upset you with my sour look. It won’t happen again.’ She was managing to keep her emotions in check, but desperately wanted to get out the room before she lost control and said something she’d regret.

‘Don’t try and soft-soap me, Tennison. If you think I was wrong, then at least have the balls to tell me.’

Jane looked him in the eye. She recalled him telling her earlier he was happy for her to express her opinions as long as it wasn’t in front of other officers.

‘This is strictly between us. On a one-to-one basis?’

Moran looked around the room. ‘Well, I can’t see anyone else in here, can you?’

Jane took a deep breath and spoke calmly, but without holding back. ‘Hilary Peters is an innocent victim of her brother’s crimes, but it seems to me you treated her as if she was a criminal just because Aiden Lang is a homosexual. Hilary didn’t make her brother gay, and wanting to protect him doesn’t make her a bad person. Surely, as police officers, we should treat suspects’ families with a bit of decency and understanding.’

Moran shrugged. ‘Hilary Peters will get over it. What’s done is done and I stand by my decision.’

Jane shook her head in disbelief. ‘Hilary’s husband hates Lang because he’s gay, a poofter, faggot or any one of the derogatory terms I’ve heard bandied round the office. Do you really think he’ll brush off his house being searched and neighbors questioned with a “what’s done is done”?’

As far as Moran was concerned, their one-to-one was over. ‘You can call it a day now and book off duty,’ he said brusquely as he picked up a folder on his desk and started reading.

Jane banged the door closed behind her and went straight to the ladies’ locker room to compose herself. Standing at the sink, she looked in the mirror and was taken aback by how worn out she looked. But she didn’t regret speaking her mind to Moran, and after splashing some water on her face, she felt restored.

The CID office was empty, with everyone out searching Hilary Peters’ house or following up suspected sightings of Aiden Lang after the press appeal. Jane looked at the roster and saw she was off Saturday and working Sunday, which meant she could still go for dinner with Paul Lawrence. But realizing she needed something to cheer her up now, so she didn’t just sit at home thinking about the investigation, Jane decided to pay a surprise visit to her parents in Maida Vale. She gathered up her things, flicked off the lights and closed the door behind her, leaving the photos of the three murdered women and Aiden Lang in darkness.

Jane still had her own key to her parents’ flat, but wanting to make her visit a nice surprise rather than a shock, she knocked on the door.

The Tennisons’ large flat in Maida Vale was pleasantly decorated. It had three good-sized bedrooms, an open-plan lounge with dining room, and a kitchen with a breakfast bar along one wall.

Jane’s father opened the door, beaming from ear to ear. He was dressed casually in a white shirt, grey trousers and slippers. He stepped forward and gave Jane a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

‘Lovely to see you, Jane. Come on in.’

Jane walked into the hallway and instantly smelt the sweet aroma of home-baking. ‘That smell always makes my mouth water.’

‘Your mother’s in the kitchen making some bread and scones. Mother, come and see who’s here,’ he called.

Mrs. Tennison came out of the kitchen, wiping her flour-dusted hands on a long pink and red pinafore. It was one that Jane and her sister Pam had bought her for Christmas five years earlier.

‘Jane!’ They kissed and hugged. As Mrs. Tennison stepped back, Jane smiled and brushed flour off her coat.

‘Sorry I’ve not been in touch recently — I’ve been really busy at work, but my DCI let me finish early today.’

‘I’ve seen the news on TV and read the papers about those terrible murders. I hope you’re not on the investigation.’

‘I am, Mum, I am.’

Her mother took a moment to consider her response. ‘Then maybe I spoke out of turn the other night, and I’m sorry. But you know if you ever need us we’re here.’

Jane was not expecting her mother to be so sympathetic, especially after their last telephone conversation had ended so abruptly.

‘It’s not been pleasant, Mum. But it’s far worse for the families who lost a loved one.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on and butter some scones.’ Mrs. Tennison hurried into the kitchen.

Jane looked at her father. ‘Some things never change,’ she said, realizing her mother didn’t really want to discuss her work.

‘Your mother told me she was upset and put the phone down on you the other evening. I had a word with her about being more understanding when it comes to your work as a detective. She is trying, but you know how she worries about you, especially after you got caught up in that IRA bomb.’

‘I was off duty when the explosion happened, Dad. It was just wrong place, wrong time.’

‘And then there was that IRA sleeper woman who tried to kill you.’

‘Natalie Wilde fooled me and a lot of other people, but I learnt a valuable lesson.’ Jane followed her father into the lounge and sat down on the sofa.

‘How is the investigation going? Are you any nearer catching the suspect?’ her father asked quietly, after checking Mrs. Tennison was still in the kitchen.

Although Jane had promised herself she wouldn’t think about work for the rest of the day, she didn’t mind discussing it with her father. He had always been supportive of her career choice, and had a genuine interest in her investigations, offering sensible advice or words of comfort when she felt down. Jane also knew she could trust her father to keep what she told him to himself. She filled him in briefly about the three murders — the hardest thing to talk about being that a nine-year-old boy had lost his mother.

Her father shook his head sadly. ‘That poor boy.’

‘Simon may have been sexually abused. I have to take him to be interviewed by a social services welfare officer and he’ll be examined by a pediatrician,’ Jane said.

Jane’s father could hear the pain in her voice. ‘That side of police work must be heart-wrenching.’

‘Yes, it is. But if Simon was abused, it will give us further evidence against the suspect and reveal some of his motive for the murders.’

‘Well, I hope to God you catch him, Jane. Cases like that make you wonder if it was right to abolish hanging.’

Jane was surprised. ‘We don’t always get it right in the police, Dad. In the past, innocent people have been convicted by a jury and hung for murders they didn’t commit. To be honest, I’m not convinced our suspect acted alone. He may have had an accomplice.’

‘Really? Have you told your boss what you think?’ Mr. Tennison asked.

‘I made the mistake of airing my opinion in an office meeting and got a severe dressing-down from DCI Moran and DI Gibbs about my gut feelings and jumping to wild conclusions.’

Her father nodded sympathetically. ‘I watched a TV documentary recently about human intuition. It said that gut feelings and instinct play a big part in a detective’s search for the truth — especially knowing when someone is lying. You shouldn’t dismiss a gut feeling just because others disagree with you.’

Jane smiled. Her dad really was a wise old soul. ‘I know, and thanks for the advice, Dad. Anyway, I wanted to have a job-free evening, so if it’s OK with you, can we talk about something else?’

‘I’ll get the slide projector and screen out. You haven’t seen the slides of our last cruise, have you?’

Jane was on the point of saying she had, but didn’t want to disappoint her father. ‘I’d love to see them, thanks.’

‘Tea’s up.’ Mrs. Tennison walked in with a tray of tea and plate of fresh buttered scones and jam.

Watching the cruise slides, Jane bit into a scone and realized how much she missed her mother’s home cooking. ‘These are the best, Mum.’

‘Thank you, dear. I’ve put some in a cake tin for you to take home. I’ve got a homemade steak and kidney pie, with mash and peas, for supper later.’

‘You’re spoiling me now, Mum.’ Jane smiled.

Jane’s father kept up a running commentary as he went through the slides, and she had to fight to stop herself from drifting off. Then the doorbell rang.

‘See who it is, please, dear,’ her mother asked, looking at Jane.

She opened the door to a smiling Pam and her husband Tony, who was holding baby Nathan. Pam was carrying a wicker baby basket and had a patchwork baby bag slung over her shoulder.

‘Mum rang to say you were visiting, so we thought we’d surprise you,’ Pam explained.

Tony held Nathan’s tiny hand and made him wave to Jane. ‘Say hello to your aunty Jane, Nat.’

‘Nat?’ Jane wasn’t sure if she’d heard Tony correctly.

‘It’s short for Nathan. It was my idea and Mum liked it,’ Pam said.

Jane just smiled, even though she thought Nat sounded like a bug. Jane followed her sister and Tony into the living room.

Mrs. Tennison came out from the kitchen, delighted to see her grandson, as was Mr. Tennison.

‘I’ve got some good news for you all,’ Pam announced.

‘You’re pregnant again?’ Mrs. Tennison ventured.

‘No, Mother. The date for Nat’s christening is set.’ Pam turned to Jane. ‘I want you to be his godmother.’

Tony handed Nathan to Jane. ‘We both want you to be his godmother.’

‘Me? Really? I don’t know what to say,’ Jane stammered.

‘That’s a lovely idea.’ Her mother beamed.

‘Of course I’d be honored.’ Jane felt chuffed as she cradled six-month-old Nathan in her arms.

Mrs. Tennison put her arm around Jane’s shoulder. ‘Being a godmother is a big responsibility, dear.’

‘You’ll be like an extra parent to Nat,’ Pam added.

Mrs. Tennison nodded in agreement. ‘You’ll have an important role to play at the christening. Make sure to book a day off from work as soon as you can.’

‘And try not to be late,’ Pam added with a smile.

Jane looked into her nephew’s beautiful blue eyes. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Nathan gurgled, burped and started to cry.

‘Nat’s hungry.’ Pam took him from Jane, then sat down to breastfeed him.

Mr. Tennison looked away.

Mrs. Tennison shook her head. ‘Don’t be so prudish. Breastfeeding is perfectly natural.’

Mr. Tennison got up from his armchair. ‘There’s something I need to do in the kitchen.’

Pam finished feeding Nathan, then handed him to Jane. ‘He needs burping now.’

‘I haven’t a clue how to do that, Pam.’

‘Hold him against your chest, so his chin is resting on your shoulder, then support him with one hand and gently rub his back with the other. Like this.’

Suddenly Nathan burped, then passed wind. It made Jane laugh, but she didn’t find it so funny when he burped the second time and was sick.

‘Sorry, I forgot to put a cloth on your shoulder. It’s not much anyway,’ Pam said casually as she rubbed Jane’s shoulder with the cloth.

‘Does it stain?’ It was one of her good work jackets.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll clean it with a bit of disinfectant,’ Mrs. Tennison offered.

Jane handed Nathan to Pam. ‘I think he needs changing.’

‘This would be a good time to learn, Jane,’ Pam said with a smile.

‘I need to clean my jacket.’ Jane beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, followed by her mother.

By the time she’d returned, Pam had changed Nathan’s nappy and he was asleep in the wicker basket.

During supper, Mrs. Tennison asked Jane if she wanted to stay the night, but Jane said she couldn’t as she had an early start at work in the morning.

‘Have you got the weekend off?’

‘Just the Saturday.’

‘You could come and stay the night then,’ Mrs. Tennison said.

‘We’re not here, dear, we’re visiting friends in Eastbourne,’ Mr. Tennison reminded his wife.

‘We can make an excuse. Tell them I’ve got a cold.’

‘There’s no need to change your plans,’ Jane insisted. ‘I’ve already got a dinner on Saturday evening.’

Mrs. Tennison looked surprised. ‘Is it a work colleague?’

Pam giggled. ‘Well, that could be a recipe for disaster with your track record.’

Jane frowned. ‘Very funny, Pam.’

‘What his name?’ her father asked.

‘Paul Lawrence. He’s a detective sergeant like me.’

‘Isn’t he the nice forensics man you’ve spoken about before?’

Jane sighed. ‘Yes, he is, Mother. I’ve learnt a lot from him since I joined The Met.’

‘How old is he?’ Pam asked.

‘What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Paul and I are just good friends, and our relationship is purely platonic. Can we change the subject, please?’ Jane didn’t want to reveal that Paul was at least eight years older than her.

After supper, Pam brought Nathan down after bathing and changing him. In his soft white Babygro, he looked like a sleeping cherub. Jane lent over the wicker basket. She would’ve liked to pick him up and cradle him in her arms, but she was worried she would wake him. She couldn’t resist kissing his cheek. He smelt of talcum powder and milk. The thought of any harm ever coming to him was so awful, she wondered if she could be a mother.