Chapter 2
7:00 a.m.
Friday 12 December 1980.
Manchester Police Headquarters.
The eleventh floor.
The Assistant Chief Constable’s office -
My office.
I’ve got my suitcase by the door, the radio on:
‘The early Christmas exodus is expected to continue from universities and colleges across the North of England as the President of the NUS issued the following statement:
‘Anyone who goes to any of the Northern Universities today will know immediately the pall this Yorkshire Ripper has cast over the whole student population…’
Going through the tray on my desk, the Christmas cards.
‘And in other news, it was announced that 30,000 pigs are to be slaughtered in an attempt to stop the further spread of swine fever…’
I hear the door across the corridor open and close.
I put the last papers in their folders and go out into the corridor.
I stand before the door of the Chief Constable and knock.
‘Come.’
I open the door.
Chief Constable Clement Smith is behind his desk.
‘Good morning,’ I say.
He doesn’t look up.
I stand, waiting.
Eventually he says: ‘So you took it?’
‘Yes.’
The Chief Constable looks up; his close-cropped hair, full black beard and dark eyes giving Clement Smith one expression:
Orthodox.
‘I’ve been asked to put together a team to assist me,’ I say.
Silence.
‘I’d like to take John Murphy and Alec McDonald, plus DI Hillman and DS Marshall from Serious Crime.’
‘Helen Marshall?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know you can have up to three more?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you spoken to these people?’
‘No.’
‘Have you got a timetable in mind?’
‘With your permission, I’d like to get everyone together this morning.’
Silence.
‘I’ve got to be over in Wakefield for the afternoon press conference and I’d like to take John Murphy with me for that.’
Silence.
‘I’m due to meet Chief Constable Angus, George Oldman and Pete Noble, and then make a start.’
Silence.
‘If that’s OK with you?’
Eventually he says: ‘I’ve been instructed to give you whatever you need.’
‘Thank you.’
A pause, then: ‘I’ll have them meet in your office at ten.’
‘Thank you.’
Clement Smith nods and goes back to the work on his desk.
I walk to the door.
‘Peter,’ he says.
I turn around.
‘You made up your mind pretty quickly?’
‘Not something I felt I could refuse.’
‘You could have,’ he says. ‘I would have.’
‘I think it’s an honour, sir. An honour for the Manchester force.’
He goes back to the work on his desk again.
I open the door.
‘Peter,’ he says again.
I turn around.
‘Let’s hope so,’ he says. ‘Let’s hope so.’
10:00 a.m.
My office.
Detective Chief Superintendent John Murphy: Manchester-Irish, mother knew mine, early fifties, over twenty years’ CID experience, a couple of tours with me in A10, direct involvement in the so-called Ripper Hunt having been in charge of the 1977 Elizabeth McQueen investigation.
Detective Chief Inspector Alec McDonald: Scots, Glasgow-bred, late forties, five years with Vice, five years Serious Crime, direct involvement with the Ripper through the 1978 Doreen Pickles investigation.
Detective Inspector Mike Hillman: mid thirties, five years A10 with me, extensive anti-corruption work, now Serious Crime.
Detective Helen Marshalclass="underline" early thirties, ten years Vice and Drug Squads, now Serious Crime.
The best we have -
Their eight bright and shining eyes on me:
‘Thank you all for coming and at such short notice.’
Nods and smiles -
‘I’ll get straight to it: I’ve been asked by the Home Office to head an investigation into the murders and assaults on women in the North of England publicly referred to as the work of the Yorkshire Ripper. Murders that as of yesterday now total thirteen.’
No nods, no smiles -
‘The brief of the investigation is to review and to highlight areas of concern, to advise alternative strategies, and to pursue and arrest the man responsible.’