‘Mary Kelly.’
‘I know that name…’
Jane looked pleased. ‘Do you? What do you know about her?’
Donaldson paused as he looked through the female index cards under the name ‘Kelly’. He turned to Jane.
‘That’s strange, there’s no Mary Kelly in here…’
‘If someone is arrested, but not charged, their details and reason for arrest should still be filled out on a form and submitted to you?’
‘Yes, but sometimes officers forget or can’t be bothered.’
Jane became worried. Could Moran have deliberately failed to submit, or have even destroyed, Mary Kelly’s collator’s card?
Donaldson suddenly clicked his fingers. ‘Got it! Mary Jane Kelly, she was his last victim.’
Jane looked excited. ‘Whose last victim? Did someone assault Mary?’
Donaldson looked at her as if she was a bit dim. ‘No, Mary Jane Kelly was Jack the Ripper’s last victim… that’s why the name was familiar. I’ve read every book on that crime and watched an old movie about him… still shockin’ all these years later. She was a prostitute addicted to rot-gut gin…’
Jane felt deflated, but suddenly thought of a long shot on the back of what Donaldson had said. ‘Do you keep records of women arrested for prostitution?’
Donaldson smiled. ‘Yes I do, but there’s so many… and they use and share a multitude of different names. Some of them could fill a phone book! It’s hard to remember who’s who, so I put together a photograph album of them all.’
He went to a cabinet and took out a large photo album filled with pages of various women, of all ages and skin colours. ‘As you can see, each one is numbered and I have a corresponding index card or file for each number. I keep the main index card under the name they gave when first arrested and charged.’
Jane sighed. She’d only seen the woman in the rabbit fur coat briefly, and from a side-on view. Nevertheless, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She sat at the spare table and started to flick through the pages, each of which had nine photographs. Donaldson sat back up on his stool and continued to read his newspaper.
Although Jane was frustrated and growing impatient she took her time. After ten minutes she was halfway through the album without seeing anyone she even remotely recognized. It didn’t help that all the pictures were black and white and taken from chest height. It was another five minutes before a picture caught her attention. It wasn’t the dusky faced girl herself, but the coat she was wearing. Jane was almost certain it was the same fur coat she had been given to wear as a decoy, and if it was she wanted to know why and who it belonged to.
‘This one here, number three hundred and twenty-six… I think this might be her.’
Donaldson leaned over his desk to a small notebook that had ‘TOMS’ written on the front of it. He licked his finger and started to turn over the pages.
‘Ah ha, here it is… Janet Brown! You ever seen her? She’s the dizzy blonde who does impressions on Who Do You Do. She’s really good, and very funny.’
Jane was lost. She didn’t have a clue why Donaldson suddenly wanted to talk about TV impressionists. He went over to one of the female index filing trays, pulled it open and after a second or two pulled out an envelope containing some index cards. He placed it on the table in front of Jane and removed the cards.
‘Number three hundred and twenty-six is Janet Brown, but not the impressionist… First arrest for soliciting eight years ago, CRO number D72/261.’ He flicked the card over. ‘Aliases Lily, Sugar Susie, Jane, Angie… to name but a few.’ He stopped reading out the list of aliases and ran his finger down the page.
‘Looks like she’s never used the name Mary Kelly before, and come to think of it I can’t recall a Tom who has. I remember seeing the Ripper crime scene pictures of Mary Kelly in the Black Museum at the Yard… her body was horribly mutilated.’
Jane felt ill at ease. The more she found out about Moran’s involvement in the arrest of the so-called Mary Kelly, the more suspicious she became. She had nothing concrete to go on, but she was determined to dig deeper. Donaldson picked up Brown’s mug shot and tapped it.
‘This may not be the girl you’re looking for… as I said, many of them share and use the same names. The best way to confirm someone’s identity is through their fingerprints, as they can be matched to the first sets ever taken on their CRO file at the Yard.’
Jane already knew about fingerprints. It was as if Donaldson had forgotten that she had nearly two years’ service, but she didn’t want to offend him so just thanked him for the information. She was eager to read Janet Brown’s cards and concentrated on what was in front of her.
Janet was five feet eight inches tall and weighed 125 pounds. To Jane this indicated she must be a slender woman. Her date of birth was 20th February 1945, making her twenty-nine. Jane looked at the scrap of paper she had made notes on about Mary Kelly’s arrest. The date of birth was the same. The most recent mug shot of Janet was five months old, having been sent over from West End Central Police Station after she was arrested by a local PC for prostitution in Soho. The picture surprised Jane because she was exceptionally beautiful, with dark skin, dark hair, wide almond shaped eyes, a small neat nose and wide dark lips, which were probably accentuated with lipstick. There was a sullenness to her expression, and the hand that held up the card had long painted nails.
Janet’s last arrest, in 1972, was for loitering for prostitution in London Fields. It then dawned on her that DC Edwards had said DI Moran used to be on the Clubs and Vice Unit. She looked up at Donaldson.
‘Is Clubs and Vice based at Scotland Yard?’
‘No, they work out of West End Central. Why?’
‘Nothing, I just wondered if they might know of Janet Brown.’ But the truth was she was wondering if there was a connection between Moran and Janet Brown from his time with Clubs and Vice.
Jane sighed. Everything seemed to be going from bad to worse. She noticed that Janet had never served a prison sentence, which she thought was strange due to the number of arrests she had had for soliciting. Jane questioned Donaldson about it, and he shrugged.
‘Could be a soft magistrate, or it’s possible she’s a snout for someone on the Vice Squad and trades details of pimps and johns to avoid prison. If she appeared in court and a good word is put in by the Vice officer she’d probably just get a fine. Paying it off just means turning a few more tricks in one night.’
‘Sounds like a vicious circle,’ Jane remarked.
Donaldson put his arm on her shoulder. ‘Will you keep your eye on the shop for me while I nip up to the canteen for a couple of sausage rolls and a coffee?’
Jane nodded and gave Donaldson a warm smile. No sooner had he left the room than he popped his head back round the door.
‘Do you want anything?’
‘No, thank you.’
He smiled and jokingly said, ‘And no sneaking any of my index cards out the room… you know it’s against the rules.’
Jane grabbed the memo pad from Donaldson’s desk and started to make shorthand notes from Janet Brown’s cards. One of the cards gave some details of her background. It stated that she was born in King’s Cross, her mother was English and father an American GI. She had lived in America for part of her life, then returned to London after her mother had died. Jane wished the card had more details about Janet Brown’s life, but she knew that it was normal for only a brief family history to be recorded on a CRO file. What was of interest was the fact that Janet Brown gave her address, when last arrested in Soho, as 86 Graham Road, Hackney.
Having recorded as much as she could on the memo pad Jane ripped off the pages she’d written on, folded them up and put them in her handbag. She gathered up the cards to put them back in the envelope and on opening it saw a copy of an Incident Report Book, which was used by uniform officers, and had been filled out by PC 489 Grant, who was based at Hackney, but on a different relief to Jane. The IRB was about a ‘Serious Assault’ on 23 August 1974. She also recalled having read the teenager’s statement saying that her rape had occurred on the 23rd, but had not been reported until two days later when she had an emotional breakdown in front of her mother. To Jane it seemed obvious that the same man may have attacked Janet Brown and the teenager. She couldn’t understand how, or why, DI Moran had missed the connection. Jane opened the IRB and started to read it.