A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [188]
Then he drove over to the hospital in South London to interview Fifi Reynolds, and she dropped the bombshell that Angela Muckle was smothered by the Frenchwoman.
He had been convinced Alfie had killed Angela, and the prospect of him being hanged had brightened many a bad day, for the Muckles had been a thorn in his side for almost his entire working life. He had a file some ten inches thick with complaints about them, and there was no doubt they were involved to some extent with half the crimes committed on his patch. Yet each time he thought he’d finally got enough proof to put them away, some piece of new evidence or a rock-solid alibi always turned up, and his case against them fell apart.
Roper had felt he was high and dry this time. Even when a couple of red herrings, Stanislav and Ubley, were thrown into the investigation, he didn’t allow himself to become downhearted. Fortunately there was no real evidence against them, and even the Muckles’ brief wasn’t too optimistic he could get them off. Bolton’s body being found, then the abduction of the two women, muddied the waters somewhat. Clearly there was some other issue at 11 Dale Street that he hadn’t picked up on. Yet through it all Roper hadn’t allowed himself to be sidetracked from the real issue, that a small child had been raped and killed. Alfie, and hopefully his slagbag of a wife, would hang for it, that much he was sure of.
Then when he heard Jack Trueman was involved too, he felt as high as a kite. For almost as long as the Muckles had been plaguing him, Jack Trueman had been the man every senior officer in London wanted a chance to nick. They suspected he was involved in some way with half the serious crime in central London, but he was a clever bastard, always one jump ahead, covering his tracks carefully while flaunting his seedy but legal businesses. If Roper could nail him it would mean promotion and cause for celebration for all his men.
Then young Fifi spoke up about Yvette and said that it was Trueman who raped Angela, and all his hopes of putting Alfie and Molly away for good were blown sky-high.
The previous night he’d been in despair because he knew that as things stood he had nothing substantial against them. They were likely to get something for neglecting and failing to protect their children, but he doubted that would amount to much more than a year or so in prison.
As for Trueman, he’d undoubtedly wriggle out of responsibility for Bolton’s death, and without an eyewitness, it would be well nigh impossible to prove he raped Angela either. Yvette had killed herself and that left only abduction charges to pin on the man; not much when Roper had hoped for so much more.
Fifi had said Yvette claimed there were other young people who were sexually abused at number 11, but that was just hearsay. And they still hadn’t discovered the identity of the other men who were there that night.
Last night he’d decided he was going to leave the force and move to another city. There was no way he could bear to watch Alfie and Molly set free to laugh up their sleeves at him and continue spoiling people’s lives.
But this morning he got up and found the sun was shining again. It was even announced on the radio that an Indian summer had begun. That did seem like a good omen. Then he got the call that a man called Martin Broughton, who was one of Trueman’s lackeys, had presented himself at Bow Street last night prepared to spill the beans.
Now Bow Street had a whole dossier on Trueman, details about his grubby empire that in the ordinary way they’d never get. And Roper had learned who had been informing here.
He’d never liked Inspector William Hall. Ex-public school bully and too flashy by half – no wonder he could afford to live in Barnes and drive a Zephyr 6. To think they’d all believed it was inherited wealth!
But he’d be pulled today too and suspended pending an investigation. But now it was off to Brixton. He’d even got some inspiration about how to trap Alfie.
‘Walk