Jane felt awful but now realized that Nichols was probably right and DI Moran had indeed tricked Peter Allard into signing the false confession by slipping it into the bundle and then removing it before she signed the record of the interview. She looked up at Moran but he didn’t bat an eyelid, and Mr Nichols, having made his point to the magistrate, sat down.
The magistrate didn’t look impressed and cleared his throat.
‘You have made your point by using WPC Tennison as a scapegoat, Mr Nichols. However, I am still of the opinion that the charge of rape will be committed to the Old Bailey for trial. I also accept that your client has pleaded to the indecent assaults and assault on a police officer, for which I can sentence him today. In my opinion, the penalties of imprisonment in this court are inadequate with regard to the seriousness of the offences. Therefore, I will commit him for sentencing in custody at the higher court by the presiding judge on completion of the rape trial.’
Peter Allard jumped up in the dock, pleaded his innocence and shouted that he had been tricked by DI Moran. The magistrate told him to sit down and be quiet, but he wouldn’t desist and now Marie Allard joined in by shouting that the officers were all liars. It became so unruly that the magistrate ordered Allard to be taken to the cells and his wife removed from the courtroom. When this was done the magistrate stood up, said the case was over and that all parties could leave, then he left the room by his personal side entrance.
As Jane stepped out of the witness box she looked at Moran and Edwards with disgust and let them leave the room before her.
Jane picked up her police hat from the waiting room. There was no sign of Moran or Edwards. She stepped into the street and was relieved to see that Marie Allard wasn’t there. As she stood at the bus stop an unmarked CID car pulled up and Moran leaned out of the passenger window.
‘You want a lift back to the station?’
‘No, I’ll make my own way.’
‘Please yourself,’ he replied in a dour tone. ‘You did all right in there, Allard’s barrister thought he was bloody Perry Mason.’ Moran waved his arm for DC Edwards to drive off.
Marie was making the children’s breakfast of cereal and scrambled eggs on toast. The kettle was on and the toast was under the grill. She had already called them twice and could hear them running noisily from room to room. The ‘nice house’ was in complete disarray, with cupboards and drawers open everywhere.
‘Breakfast! Come to the table NOW!’ she shouted, as she went out of the kitchen into the hall. Her son ran out from the sitting room, followed by her daughter. The little girl had a red velvet rose clipped into her hair. It was the treasured rose from the vase next to the statue of the Virgin Mary.
Marie snatched it from the child’s hair, screeching, ‘You know never to touch that… you very, very naughty girl, and you get punished.’
‘Punished like Susie Luna,’ her son said gleefully.
Marie was shocked and looked so frightened that he felt guilty.
‘Sorry, Mama…’
‘Sit down at the table. Do as I say right now, both of you.’
Marie went into the sitting room. She crossed herself and kissed her crucifix, and tried to calm herself down. How did her son know that name? What made him say it? The fear gripped her again. She was about to replace the rose in the vase next to the Virgin Mary, but instead she tore it to shreds, stuffing the frail leaves and velvet petals into her apron pocket.
Marie went back into the kitchen to finish preparing the children’s breakfast. They sat very quietly watching her as she frantically whisked the eggs in a bowl, spilling some on the counter. The toast was now burning under the grill, and the kettle was whistling loudly. Then the phone started ringing shrilly in the hall, making her physically jump. She turned the kettle off and grabbed the toast from under the grill, almost throwing it onto the table.
‘You put on butter,’ she said to the children. The phone carried on ringing as Marie hurried to answer it.
‘Hello?’
She heard nothing but silence. Puzzled, Marie asked again, ‘Hello? Hello – who is this?’
Irritated by the silence, she was about to hang up when a voice crooning the words of a familiar Rolling Stones song began to come through the phone. Marie froze as the voice got louder and louder.
‘Who is this?’ Marie asked again. But the voice didn’t stop, now almost screaming the words to ‘Angie’ down the line.
‘What you want?’ Marie was crying now, shaking, her hand gripping the phone, unable to put it down.
The singing stopped abruptly and a hoarse voice answered.
‘Five hundred pounds in used notes. If you report this call, I got the evidence to put your husband away for rape. I’ll call again in two days.’
Marie heard the line go dead. The receiver felt like a heavy weight in her hand as she slowly replaced it. She stood rooted with fear in the hallway. She didn’t know what to do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jane looked out of the window; the leaves were falling now and the warmth of September had long gone and an autumn chill was in the air. She was sitting nervously in a small ante-room at Scotland Yard, wearing full uniform. While a PA was working busily at a nearby desk, Jane took a final look at some small note cards she had written. A male uniform officer came out of the interview room in a state of distress. Pulling off his clip-on police tie he kicked at a chair, and Jane, now even more nervous, got up to go in, but the PA told her to wait and said that she would be called when they were ready.
Over the PA’s intercom Jane heard a gruff male voice asking for WPC Tennison to be sent in. She stood up and smoothed out her uniform, picking off some fluff from her jacket. She took a deep breath and entered the room.
Three men, a Commander, a Detective Chief Superintendent and a DCI, sat behind a long table. Jane was invited to take a seat opposite them and the Commander, who was sitting between the two other officers, flipped open a file with her name on it. ‘WPC Tennison, we know your name, would you be kind enough to tell us who will be interviewing you today?’
Jane looked puzzled as there were no name cards. However, she’d done her research and knew the three senior officers’ names. She looked at each of them as she gave their names.
‘You’d be surprised how many people don’t do their homework and get it wrong, like the last officer.’
Next the Commander asked why she thought she should be made detective. Jane swallowed. ‘During my time in uniform I feel I have proved myself capable through hard work and tenacity.’
The DCI asked, ‘Have you any registered informants?’
‘No, sir, I reacted on anonymous information. I did some research before obtaining a search warrant which resulted in the discovery of a quantity of stolen goods.’
She was then asked what the goods were and sheepishly replied they were clothes from Woolworths, but it was an organized gang of women shoplifters who were selling the goods on a market stall.
‘Hardly the crime of the century,’ said the DCI. ‘Well, I expected to hear something a bit more interesting and worthy of someone who wants to become a Met detective.’
‘I recently acted as a decoy and subsequently arrested a man who was wanted for a series of indecent assaults on women, as well as a rape.’
‘Did he indecently assault you?’ the Commander asked.
‘Yes,’ Jane replied, blushing and wondering if they already knew about the case.
‘What exactly did he do?’ the Superintendent asked. It felt as if he was revelling in Jane’s obvious embarrassment.