Hidden Killers. Lynda La plante

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.

       On 23.8.74 I was night duty patrol covering 5 beat. Just after midnight I received a radio call about a drunk woman outside the basement flat of 58 Navarino Road. I attended the scene and the woman had a severely bruised face and what appeared to be a knife wound to her neck and chest. She was semi-conscious and did not smell of alcohol. I also noticed that her clothes were in disarray and there was a handbag on the floor next to her. She was wearing a blue fur coat, white top, miniskirt and long boots.

       I asked her what happened but she was incoherent and in a state of shock. I called an ambulance and accompanied her to the Homerton Hospital. She said nothing during the journey. I looked in the handbag to try and identify the woman and found a letter addressed to Miss J. Brown of 86 Graham Road.

       At the hospital she was treated immediately in the casualty area and sedated, thus I was unable to get any information from her. I contacted the Night Duty CID and informed them of a possible GBH/Rape, and that the attending doctor said no one would be able to speak to her until the following morning.

       CID said they would make an entry in their Night Duty Occurrence Book for the DI to see in the morning, and also asked me to make out a crime report sheet on my return to the station. (Major Crime 1324 refers.)

      I left the hospital and returned to Hackney where I checked the collator’s index cards and found a record for a Janet Brown, who from the mug shot was the same woman I escorted to the hospital.

      Lifting the mug shot up Jane found two more black and white photographs. One looked as if it had been taken around the same time as the mug shot, but the other photograph was more recent and shocked her. Janet had severe bruises around her eyes and one of them was bulging like a ping pong ball. Her lips were swollen and split. It was very obvious that she had suffered a severe beating. Checking over the dates and times of the various arrests for soliciting there was a brief mention of the assault stating that J. Brown had come into the station to report it, but had later withdrawn the complaint and refused to press charges. She was unable to give a description of the assailant.

      Listed on the crime sheet was a memo from DI Moran stating that the victim refused to substantiate the allegation and had said the injuries were as a result of a fall.

      ‘No crime’ was then underlined.

      Jane couldn’t believe what she’d just read. She was now convinced that Janet Brown, Mary Kelly and J. Brown were the same woman. Moran must be hiding something, not just from her, but from everyone else in the station. Navarino Road, where the woman was found, was just a stone’s throw from the north end of London Fields.

      Jane was now certain she had been wearing Janet Brown’s rabbit fur coat on the night she was assaulted. She could find no mention of whether or not she was an informer. Even if she was, all informants were usually registered under a false name and a record kept under lock and key in a cabinet by the DCI.

      Donaldson returned and Jane handed him the index cards.

      ‘She took a severe beating.’

      ‘Yep, I noticed that . . . But you know these girls risk that happening. A lot of them are out soliciting to pay for their drugs. You arrest them, and in the worst cases they do time in Holloway Prison, but then they get out and go straight back to work. They have these scum pimps who they pay for so-called protection, but a lot of the time it’s those creeps who knock them around.’

      ‘Do you think Janet has a pimp?’

      ‘I don’t know, sweetheart, maybe . . . Some of them work out of flats over in Mayfair. That’s where the top brass work nowadays. They get customers from the Dorchester Hotel, and some of them even have the cheek to dress up fancy and go into the bars.’