Back The Dirty Dozen
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. About the Author
  40. Lynda La Plante Reader’s Club
  41. Letter from the author

Jane remained in the collator’s office and got straight on the phone to Companies House. The result was positive and encouraging. The Grove Snooker Hall was a limited company set up seven months earlier by Thomas Anthony Ripley, aged forty-six, of 12 Connington House, Hatch Lane, E4. Although the recorded age was slightly older than Rachel thought, Jane considered that M1, who was likely called Tommy, might look younger than he is. She checked the R’s in the criminal index cards, but there were none for Ripley. She looked in the A-Z on the collator’s desk and estimated that Hatch Lane, which was on Chingford Division, was about six miles from the snooker club and just over four from Barclays Bank in Leytonstone High Road.

Jane phoned Chingford Police Station and asked to be put through to the collator’s office. When he answered, she said who she was and asked if he could check his index cards for a white male named Thomas Ripley aged forty-six, and gave his address. She nervously tapped her fingers on the desk, awaiting his reply while he checked the cards. A minute later he was back on the phone.

‘I’ve got two Ripleys – one’s twenty-six, the other is eighteen, and neither is called Thomas. The electoral register for that address shows a Thomas Ripley as the sole resident at flat twelve.’

‘Have you heard the name before?’

‘No.’

‘He owns a snooker club in Bruce Grove, Tottenham.’

‘Still doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘What sort of properties are in Connington House?’

‘It’s a block of privately owned, and rented, one- and two-bedroom modern flats off Hatch Lane, built a few years ago by a property developer in a middle-class residential area. Anything else I can help you with?’

‘Have you got access to a PNC?’

She was unable to use the one on the desk in front of her as she’d never done a PNC authorisation course.

‘Yes, there’s one here in my office.’

‘I don’t have a date of birth for Anthony Ripley, but from his age, and the date he registered with Companies House, he was probably born in 1934 or ’35.’

‘I’ll run the name with a four year spread on the birth year.’ He held the receiver between his shoulder and chin as he typed. A few seconds passed before he spoke. ‘There’s a few possibles with that name and years of birth – you got a middle name for him?’

‘Yes, it’s Anthony.’

‘Got one. Thomas Anthony Ripley, born tenth of August 1934, height five foot nine inches. Last recorded conviction was twenty-one years ago for GBH – he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to five years in the Scrubs.’

‘Any details about the commission of the offence or co-defendants?’

‘No, but that’s the norm for really old cases on the PNC. I can request his criminal record file be sent to you at Rigg Approach.’

‘Yes, please.’