‘Just pulling your leg,’ he says.
‘Right,’ I say, finding my place. ‘Let’s get started.’
‘All ears,’ winks Alderman.
‘First of all, many thanks for making yourselves available. As you know, we’ve been asked to review all aspects of the Ripper Inquiry and to make any recommendations we might find, based on what we see.’
‘And what do you see?’ asks Alderman.
‘Please,’ I smile. ‘We aren’t at that stage yet; that’s why we’re grateful that you’ve agreed to have this talk with us.’
‘Like we had a choice?’ he sniffs.
I ignore him: ‘Both of you have been involved with the inquiry from the off, and are still involved, so obviously you both have a tremendous amount of knowledge about the different investigations, the methods and procedures.’
I pause, glancing their way -
Prentice is stubbing out his cig, eyes on me; Alderman jumpy, not like him.
‘Let’s start at the beginning: Theresa Campbell.’
‘That’s not the beginning,’ says Alderman. ‘What about Joyce Jobson and Anita Bird?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise either of you were involved with those attacks.’
‘We weren’t,’ says Prentice, looking at Alderman.
‘Just saying that Campbell wasn’t the first, that’s all,’ says Alderman.
‘OK then,’ I nod. ‘The first murder.’
‘That’d be a bit more accurate,’ smiles Alderman.
‘Both Campbell and Richards were the same team?’
Prentice nods: ‘Chief Superintendent Jobson, out of here.’
‘And you two were the senior detectives?’
‘Yes,’ says Alderman. ‘Still are.’
‘Other detectives involved then were John Rudkin and Bob Craven?’
Jim Prentice nods.
‘I spoke with Maurice last Tuesday, he spoke very highly of this set-up.’
Prentice is still nodding, Alderman staring straight at me now -
I say: ‘Impression I got was that Maurice thinks that, had this team been kept together, you’d have caught the Ripper by now.’
Silence -
‘So,’ I continue. ‘I’m obviously interested in what you both think, given you’ve worked under both Maurice and George Oldman, and now Pete Noble?’
‘What?’ laughs Alderman. ‘You’re asking us whether we think if Maurice had been kept on, whether we’d have got the Ripper by now?’
‘I’m just interested…’
‘You drag me in here on a Sunday, my first fucking Sunday off in three months, to ask me that? Is that your best fucking question Mr Hunter?’ he says, standing up -
‘Sit down,’ I say. ‘And don’t fucking try this on me.’
‘Try what?’
‘You sit down and you hear me out.’
He’s staring at me, my heart fucking pounding -
‘Superintendent,’ I say, nodding at the chair -
He sits down.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Now, I’d like to know about the differences in the styles of the various operations, if you don’t mind.’
Prentice coughs and says: ‘Everything was different, yeah? I mean, you’ve got to remember this was five years ago, much smaller inquiry.’
‘Who put them together?’
‘Campbell and Richards?’
I nod.
‘Maurice did, but it was obvious minute we saw her.’
Murphy: ‘Richards?’
He nods: ‘But we didn’t have Preston in. Not Strachan at this stage.’
Me: ‘And when was that then?’
‘77, after the blood tests and the letters,’ says Alderman, smiling: ‘Like you don’t know.’
‘You’d been over there though? In 76?’
‘Not us personally, but we’d sent people over and they’d sent some of their lot here.’
‘John Rudkin and Bob Craven right?’
Alderman shrugs: ‘In 75?’
I nod.
‘Sounds right,’ he says. ‘But we’ve been back and forth across them sodding Moors so many times, you tell us; you’re one with it all written down in front of you.’
Ignoring him: ‘So then Rudkin and Bob Fraser went back in 77?’
Prentice nods.
Me: ‘But by this time it’s George and Pete Noble?’
They’re both nodding.
‘Prostitute Murder Squad?’
‘Yes,’ says Prentice.
I ask him: ‘So Strachan was in and out for quite some time?’
‘Initially, yeah.’
‘And that’s also been true of a number of the other murders and attacks?’
‘Like who?’ says Alderman.
‘Well, Strachan, Janice Ryan, Liz McQueen, Tracey Livingston?’
Alderman smiles: ‘Well you’d have to ask John here about Liz McQueen.’
‘Thanks,’ says Murphy.
‘No offence, mate,’ says Alderman. ‘But that was you, not us.’
‘And,’ I continue. ‘There are a number of other murders and assaults that at one time or another have been linked to the inquiry and are now considered separate.’
Alderman: ‘Like who?’
I flick forward: ‘Vera Megson, Bradford, February 1975; Rachel Vaughan, Leeds, March 1977; Debbie Evans, Shipley, also 1977?’
‘What about Mary Wilkie?’ asks Alderman.
‘What about her?’
‘Prostitute, battered to death by Leeds Cathedral in 1970.’
‘April ninth,’ I say and look at him, waiting -
‘Unsolved,’ he says.
‘Like all the others,’ I say.
Him: ‘So what’s your point?’
‘My point is, what’s in and what’s not and who decides?’
There’s silence again, silence until Prentice sighs and says: ‘Any murder or assault of a woman in the North of England has to go through here. You know that.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I know that.’
‘So,’ grins Alderman. ‘You want me and Jim to go through every fucking unsolved murder in Yorkshire?’
‘A lot are there?’ winks Murphy.
Alderman ignores him, but the grin’s gone: ‘And you want us to tell you why or why they’re not Ripper cases?’
‘Not every one,’ I say. ‘Just one.’
Silence -
Then: ‘Just Janice Ryan.’
Bull’s eye -
Eye to eye with Alderman across the table -
Hate, naked fucking hate -
You could cut it with a knife, the fucking hate in this room -
The fucking hate across this table down here in the Belly -
Cut big slices, big fucking slices off the bone until -
‘So what do you want to know about Janice?’ asks Prentice, playing the Smart Man.
‘Well from what we’ve read, the two of you were put in charge after Bradford passed it to the Ripper Room. But neither of you thought it was the Ripper until that letter turned up at the Telegraph & Argus.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got everything,’ says Alderman and stands up -
‘Sit down,’ I say, quietly.
Prentice reaches up and pulls him down into his seat.
I say to them both: ‘I want you to tell us why you thought Janice Ryan wasn’t murdered by the Yorkshire Ripper.’
Prentice: ‘The injuries; there were no stab wounds.’
‘Same as Strachan,’ I say.
Prentice shrugs.
‘Look,’ I say. ‘You’re both senior detectives, good at your jobs some folks reckon. But the way this looks to me, pair of you didn’t recognise a Ripper job when you saw one – losing days and days trying to fit up Bob Fraser, another bleeding copper.’
Alderman’s on his feet again: ‘Fuck off! You can fucking talk, fitting up coppers, you hypocritical fucking cunt…’
Bull’s eye -
But Prentice is again pulling him back down, again playing the Smart Man: ‘Sit down, Dick.’
But I’m leaning across the table, into Dick’s face: ‘So what were you doing, letting him get away?’
‘Fuck you!’
‘No, fuck you Dick!’ says Murphy, between us. ‘We’re asking you how come you didn’t think it was Ripper. You’d worked on enough…’
‘Fuck off!’