David Peace - 1980

‘Still can’t get the order clear, can you?’ I said .

‘This is what I reckon,’ said Clarkie, back over by the door. ‘Night before Christmas Eve, everywhere quiet waiting for the big night tomorrow; gone one, the downstairs closed. Strafford a well-known afterhours, bit of brass. Car pulls up outside, they hit the stairs running, burst in, shouting for the till – but there’s buttons, it’s a fuck up. They turn on the public – except this public is Derek fucking Box, professional villain and hardman, and his mate Paul. And they’re fucked if they’re going to hand over their big posh new watches to some crew of out of town nonces.’

Out of town?’

‘No-one local’s going to do the Strafford, Pete.’

‘Kids?’

‘Come on, an L39? This is some heavy bloody ordnance they’ve got here.’

I stared over at the sofa, at the hole in the back of the chair, the hole that went through into the wall -

The hole where 01’ Billy Bell had been sitting, his broken glass still on the floor .

Clarkie was saying: ‘So Derek and Paul are giving them bollocks and one of them let’s Derek have it, then Paul, and then it’s in for a penny in for a pound, bye-bye Billy, bye-bye Grade – who’s been screaming her fucking tits off anyway.’

I was nodding along, glancing at the photo on the bar .

‘Then they’re doing the till and their pockets, when in come our hero cops, and it’s thwack, bang, thank you Wakefield.’

Me: ‘Thanks for nothing.’

‘Four dead, two wounded coppers – and all for the change in their pockets.’

‘Can’t see it,’ I said. ‘Can’t see it.’

‘You will,’ said George Oldman, in through the back door with Maurice Jobson. ‘You will.’

Millgarth, Leeds -

Sunday 21 December 1980:

Murphy, McDonald, Hillman, Marshall.

‘Where’s Bob Craven?’ I ask -

Everyone shrugs their shoulders.

‘Well,’ I say. ‘This one’s me.’

Eyes down -

Silence in the dark room for the ritual of the dead -

Thinking, is this how the dead live:

‘At 6:30 a.m. on Saturday 19 May last year the body of Joanne Clare Thornton, a 19-year-old bank clerk, was found in Lewisham Park, Morley. She was not a prostitute nor was her moral character questionable. She was last seen alive when she left her aunt’s house at 11:55 p.m. on Friday 18 May to walk to her own home, a distance of just over one mile. Death was estimated to have occurred between 12:15 a.m. and 12:30 a.m. on Saturday 19 May 1979.

‘That death came from two blows to the back of the head as she walked through the park and was instantaneous, her skull fractured from ear to ear. Her killer then dragged her onto the grass, repositioned her clothes and stabbed her twenty-one times in the abdominal area, six times in the right leg, and three times on and in the vagina. When he had finished he placed one shoe between her thighs and her own raincoat over her.

‘Joanne lay like that until 6:30 when she was initially spotted by a bus driver who believed it was a bundle of rags and reported it as such when he returned to his depot. By that time, however, a local woman on her way to work had already realised what exactly that pile of rags was and reported it to the police.

‘George Oldman issued the following statement:

‘If this is connected with the previous Ripper killings, then he has made a terrible mistake. As with Rachel Johnson, the dead girl is perfectly respectable. It appears he has changed his method of attack and this is concerning me; now in a non-red light area and attacking innocents. All women are at risk, even in areas not recognised as Ripper Country.’

‘There was a big response,’ I continue, glancing at Helen Marshall. ‘And witnesses came forward providing us with one solid description plus three motors -

‘At about nine on the Friday night, a man had attempted to pick up a Jamaican woman as she walked along Fountain Street in the centre of Morley. He was driving a dark-coloured Ford Escort and was described as being about thirty years of age with dirty blond collar-length hair, which was greasy and worn over his ears. He had what was described as a Jason King moustache which ended halfway between the corners of his mouth and chin, with a square face and jaw and was generally described as being of a scruffy appearance. He was wearing a brown-brushed cotton shirt with a tartan check, open at the neck, under a tartan lumber jacket with a beige or white fur collar.

‘The same man was spotted at about midnight parked in the same Ford Escort outside a cafй on the Middleton Road, across from Lewisham Park. The witness described the Escort as being made between 1968 and 1975, which would make it something between a G and N redg.

‘A photofit of this man was shown to Linda Clark, who was the woman who’d been attacked in Bradford in June 1977, and has to date provided us with the best description of the Ripper.’

‘Assuming she was attacked by Ripper, that is,’ says Murphy.

‘Yep,’ I sigh. ‘Assuming she was attacked by the Ripper.’

‘Sorry,’ says Murphy, palms up -

‘No John, you’re right; we can’t assume anything. However,’ I continue: ‘When she was shown the photofit of the Morley man, Linda Clark said: “That’s him, Dave. The man who attacked me.” According to Oldman.’

‘Dave?’ says Helen Marshall.

‘That’s the name the man who picked her up had given her.’

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘That car was a Cortina, yeah?’ asks Murphy.

‘Mark II, white or yellow,’ adds Hillman.

‘Anyway,’ I say. Other Morley motors that have yet to be eliminated are a dark-coloured Datsun saloon, parked by the park with its lights off, and a tan or orange-coloured Rover 2.5 or 2.6 litre that was also seen passing the park on two occasions just before midnight. Neither of the drivers of these two vehicles have ever come forward.’

They’re taking notes, getting ready to check their files, their lists -

Hillman looks up: ‘Going back a bit, the positioning of the shoe, that’s similar to Clare Strachan and the boot.’

‘Good point,’ I say. ‘And that’s obviously another thing keeping Strachan in the frame.’

Marshall: ‘It’s also similar to the piece of wood found on Joan Richards.’

‘Yes,’ I nod, then: ‘One other odd thing.’

They stop writing and look up.

‘A woman of Joanne’s age and description was seen walking close to the park in the direction of her home with a man described as being in his early twenties, five foot eight, with mousy-coloured greasy hair brushed right to left and a little wavy. He had stubble and prominent cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and was wearing a three-quarter-length dark-coloured coat and jeans.

‘If this wasn’t Joanne and the Ripper, then this couple have yet to come forward. If it was Ripper and victim, then the description is at odds with previous ones.’

‘Unless there were two of them,’ whispers Marshall.

‘That’s what I said,’ winks Murphy.

‘No, not two separate Rippers. Two of them together – doing the killings together.’

‘What? A bloody tag-team?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘A bloody tag-team.’

No-one speaks, eyes moving from her to me and back again until -

Until there’s a knock on the door and a uniform says: ‘Mr Hunter, Detectives Prentice and Alderman are here.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, looking at my watch. ‘One last thing - they pulled a size eight boot print from the park very similar to the ones also found on Joan Richards and on Tracey Livingston.’