‘He’s been acting strangely,’ Gideon said. ‘And his drinking’s way out of hand.’
‘He was always drunk by the time I got home,’ Alan said. ‘That night he argued with Genevieve, the bin was full of empty cans.’
‘I wish I’d gone to speak to Genevieve, that night or even the next morning,’ Julia said. ‘She was probably still alive then. I never took all that melodrama seriously. I should have done.’
‘You were her lodger, not her psychiatrist,’ Gideon said. ‘Ruth or Edward were better placed to do something.’
‘Has anyone spoken to Ruth?’ Julia asked.
Gideon and Alan shook their heads.
‘I should go and see her. I didn’t check on Genevieve. I’m not making the same mistake twice.’
Julia had never visited Ruth’s house, but knew from Genevieve that it was on Watling Avenue, only ten minutes from Downsview Villa and that it had ‘by far the best rosebed on the street’.
Ruth was outside her house in front of a rose bush, secateurs in hand, lopping the heads off flowers in full bloom. She kept clipping, not noticing Julia until she came onto the lawn and stood right next to her. At first, Ruth looked at her without recognition, then she said, ‘Oh, it’s you.’
Her voice was flat, her face blank.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Julia said.
‘Sorry won’t bring Jenny back,’ Ruth said.
Did Ruth blame Julia? She’d asked her to look out for Genevieve, to keep Brandon from hurting her. She’d failed and much worse than that.
‘Is there anything, anything I can do for you?’
‘No. Thank you,’ Ruth said.
Did she know Julia had argued with Genevieve and said such terrible things?
‘Do you want me to leave, Ruth?’
‘I want …’ She trailed off and looked back to her plants. ‘I want to know what Brandon said to her. I know he’s behind this. The police told me they argued – but what about? I can’t believe it was suicide. She wouldn’t …’
You delusional old cow. Dominic’s dead and he’s not coming back. Would Ruth benefit from knowing any of this?
Ruth composed herself and began lopping at the plants again.
‘Brandon did something to her – I don’t know how. Genevieve took out forty-five thousand pounds over the last few weeks. Was it to give to him?’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘No. I found the cash had been withdrawn and put two and two together. How did he get that much money out of her – blackmail?’
‘A blackmailer wouldn’t kill his victim. It defeats the object.’
‘What then?’ Ruth asked.
To bribe Brandon to stay with her, because she was a sad, desperate woman.
‘I don’t know,’ Julia said. ‘Do you have the money?’
‘It’s disappeared, along with Brandon. I told the police. They’re looking into the theft but won’t consider Genevieve’s death as anything other than suicide. Accidental death at the most. The physical evidence …’ Ruth’s voice became strained. ‘The physical evidence doesn’t correlate with a homicide. What do they know?’
Julia thought of Brandon, his great bulk, his workman’s hands. If he’d wanted Genevieve dead, there would have been bruising, blood and broken bones, not a cunning recreation of a suicide. She saw the room again. Genevieve had been lying under her duvet, the room ordered, the sidelight turned on. Brandon hadn’t killed Genevieve.
‘Had Genevieve ever tried before to … you know?’ Julia couldn’t decide how to phrase it. ‘Had she tried to hurt herself?’
The secateurs fell to the ground. Ruth put her head in her hands and started to sob.
‘I never understood my sister. We had the same parents, the same upbringing. She had everything. Why … why was she so bloody stupid?’
Julia stepped towards her and put her arms around her. Ruth’s head fell onto Julia’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ Ruth said.
‘It’s fine. It’s totally normal.’
‘I blame myself.’
‘You mustn’t.’
‘Over and over, I told her about Brandon – what type of boy he was,’ Ruth said. ‘She wouldn’t listen. In the end, I said it was up to her. But I wasn’t going to pick up the pieces yet again. She was on her own. I didn’t mean it. I was angry. I thought if I let her stew a bit, I’d make her see sense. If only I’d gone around to see her, patched things up.’ Ruth raised her head. ‘She drove me mad. But I miss her so much already. I wish you’d known her when she was younger. She was such fun with all her flights of fancy. And people found her eccentricity enchanting. Only after Dominic died, it wasn’t enchanting, it was unnerving, morbid. That’s when she started drinking and taking those pills. I tried to get her off them, without success. And people no longer found her charming. At best they pitied her. If only they’d recovered Dominic’s body. She could never accept he was dead, you see.’
But Genevieve had finally accepted it. And it resulted in her own death.
Ruth pulled away from Julia, picked up the secateurs and wiped her face.
‘It was kind of you to come to see me,’ she said. ‘And, actually, there is something you can do for me.’
‘Anything,’ Julia said.
‘You must tell me the second Brandon gets back. Even if Jenny did take her own life, in my eyes, he’s still a murderer.’
Chapter 63
2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Genevieve’s sister Ruth has changed little since the Nineties. Her hair is a little greyer, her back a little more bent, and, out of her gardening clothes, she cuts a smarter figure, but otherwise she’s the same. Just before she enters the witness box, she turns directly and deliberately towards me, an odd expression on her face, one I can’t decipher. Why look at me, not Gideon or Alan?
She takes the religious oath and waits for Helena Dryden to question her. She is the last and calmest witness. Her attitude is that of someone about to chat to a neighbour across the garden fence, rather than be examined by a hostile barrister in Crown Court. Because Helena Dryden is hostile now. The cut-throat defence means that evidence that once supported Gideon’s innocence now weakens it.
‘Mrs Fletcher, after the death of your sister, Mrs Pike, you looked after the house, didn’t you?’ Dryden takes the slightly patronising tone usually reserved for the very old or very young.
‘I did,’ Ruth says.
‘And I believe, even before her death, you took care of certain matters for her.’
‘As soon as I learnt she was letting rooms, I made an inventory. There were some quite nice, quite valuable pieces around the place. I wanted to keep an eye on them. Jenny was hopeless with anything practical.’
‘Is the inventory still in your possession?’ Dryden asks.
‘Of course not,’ Ruth says. ‘It was over twenty years ago. I’m not one of those hoarders you see on television – can’t get into the house for old newspapers and disused cereal packets.’
Pink scarf woman smiles at this assertion.
‘So, your recollection as to which pieces were and weren’t on the inventory at that time is purely from memory?’ Dryden says, scanning her notes.
‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory,’ Ruth says.
Dryden looks up in mock surprise. ‘Really?’ she says. ‘Because when the police originally showed you the rug and lamp, Mrs Fletcher, you claimed not to recognise them, not to remember them. But later, you changed your mind.’
‘Out of context, I didn’t recognise them,’ Ruth says. ‘Naturally, I remembered when I saw them in the photograph of Jenny’s lounge. I think Edward, one of her gentlemen friends, bought her that lamp. He’s dead now, so I can’t ask him.’
Ruth is much older than any of the jury, and really does come across like someone’s rambling great-aunt.
‘Can you say without a doubt and from memory that both the lamp and rug were on your inventory?’ Dryden asks.
> ‘I remember nothing was missing on that first look around the house after the lodgers left. And the lamp and the rug would have been on the inventory.’ Ruth pauses and looks at me again with a slight smile. ‘Of course, that was before … Maybe I should have done another inventory.’
The next obvious question is why should Ruth have wanted a second inventory? But barristers don’t like asking a question when they’re uncertain of the answer. Dryden looks disconcerted, unsure. Ruth is waiting, her head to one side, a smile on her lips. Dryden decides not to take the bait.
‘But we established this is all from memory,’ she says. ‘The records no longer exist.’
‘I just told you that, dear, less than a minute ago,’ Ruth says. ‘It strikes me you’re the one who’s having difficulties with their memory.’
Judge Fleetwood cuts short the stifled laughter around the court by looking up and searching for the culprits.
‘Thank you,’ Dryden says. ‘Nothing more.’
She sits down and looks at Alan’s barrister. I can’t see what passes between them.
Ralph spends a moment adjusting his papers, before addressing Ruth.
‘Mrs Fletcher, you worked as a bookkeeper for many years, is that correct?’
‘After my husband left, I had two daughters to support, so I had no choice,’ she says.
‘And in your retirement, you’ve chosen to volunteer and have continued to keep books for several local charities?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you’ve kept your mind pretty sharp?’
‘I still finish the Times’ cryptic crossword every day.’
Ralph smiles. ‘I’ve no doubt,’ he says. ‘The prosecution and, latterly, Mr Risborough and Mr Johns maintain that the lamp used to kill Brandon, and the rug in which he was wrapped, went missing when the lodgers left the house. Your evidence contradicts that; you say the lodgers left prior to the disappearance of the objects.’
‘They did.’
‘Thus precluding my client from carrying out an attack in the manner so suddenly suggested by the two other defendants.’ He gestures to the dock. ‘And we’ve already seen that the forensic evidence is inconclusive. And just for the record, you’ve no personal interest in the defendants or have any reason to protect them.’
‘Lord, no!’ Ruth says.
‘You never thought about them, until the police came to see you?’
‘I did think about them. They were there when Jenny died. Julia found the body. It must have been awful for her. But I’ve had no contact with them since. I’m sure they’d all rather forget about it.’
‘So, you are stating, categorically, that the defendants had left the house before the lamp and the rug the prosecution allege were used in the murder disappeared. Nothing was missing in that inventory take.’
‘Not on that first inventory, no.’ Ruth pauses and looks at me again. ‘Of course, that was before … Now I know I should have done a second inventory.’
Ralph hesitates. Like Dryden, he is cautious. He can’t guess the response of the question begging to be asked. He glances down, clears his throat and takes a moment before saying, ‘Before what, Mrs Fletcher? Was there a reason for you to do a second inventory?’
‘If I’d been in a better state of mind, I should have realised they’d returned to the house. Because I saw them all again nearly a month later, at the bottom of Downsview Avenue.’
‘But you told the police you never saw them in the house again,’ Ralph says.
‘I didn’t see them in the house, but I did see the three of them at the end of the street, about a month later, as I said. They were in a white BMW, heading towards Downsview Villa.’
That’s something she can’t have seen. Why is she lying? Is Dryden right about her? Am I about to be convicted because of the ramblings of some batty old lady? Do they check witnesses for dementia?
‘Let me get this right, a month after they all claim to have left the house, you saw a white BMW, a car we know Gideon Risborough to have been driving at that time, on Downsview Way, and inside you saw the three defendants.’
‘When I said three of them, I wasn’t referring to all defendants – only two of them, Gideon and Alan. The third person in the car was Brandon Wells.’
Gasps from the public gallery. Brandon’s brother and sister sit bolt upright. Judge Fleetwood goes so far as to remove his chin from resting on his hand and he leans forward. Alan flicks his eyes to Gideon, whose fists are clenched as he stares at Ruth. The jurors look at one another, confused. Mapplethorpe mutters something to Dryden. Ralph is serene.
‘So contrary to the assertion of Mr Risborough and Mr Johns, Brandon must have been alive and well on the Saturday 27th August bank holiday, the day they’ve insinuated my client took his life. You are certain it was after this date?’
‘Yes, 22nd September.’
‘You remember the exact date?’
‘It was the day of Jenny’s inquest,’ Ruth says. ‘They ruled it was suicide. I was walking home when I saw them.’
‘So, a date you’ll never forget. Can you think why the two defendants would implicate Ms Winter?’
‘Your honour.’ Dryden stands up. ‘Mrs Fletcher is not here to answer for my client.’
‘Indeed,’ Judge Fleetwood says. ‘Mrs Fletcher, kindly refrain from answering that question.’
Ralph inclines his head towards Fleetwood before continuing. ‘Mrs Fletcher, you don’t strike me as a woman prone to flights of fancy. You’ve stated that you remember the day clearly because it was just after your sister’s inquest. Now, can you confirm that you had a good view of the occupants of the BMW?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you reiterate who was in the car please?’
‘Certainly. Gideon Risborough, Alan Johns and Brandon Wells.’
‘And my client, Ms Winter, most definitely was not in the car.’
‘Not unless she was in the boot.’ This elicits a nervous smile from the woman in the pink scarf. ‘No, it was just the three lads. Julia, Ms Winter, wasn’t with them.’
‘For the record, can you confirm once more that you’ve had no contact with any of the defendants in the intervening years?’ Ralph asks.
‘None, whatsoever.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Fletcher, you’ve been most helpful.’
Before Ralph can sit down, Dryden’s on her feet in a flutter of papers, which float from her desk and her junior has to scurry on the floor, picking them up as Dryden addresses Judge Fleetwood.
‘Your honour, I’d like to re-examine the witness,’ she says.
‘Yes, Ms Dryden. I expect you do,’ he replies. ‘If you would remain in the stand, Mrs Fletcher.’
I tense in my seat. Ruth’s lie is about to unravel.
‘These sudden revelations, Mrs Fletcher, after twenty-four years, can you tell us the reason for it?’
‘It wasn’t sudden, dear,’ Ruth says. Her stance is relaxed, but her eyes are animated. ‘No one asked me, until just now, and I have sworn to tell the whole truth.’
Dryden doesn’t know how to handle a witness contradicting her case, who is neither openly combative nor intimidated.
Several members of the jury nod. Dryden tries a different angle.
‘Let me get this right, Mrs Fletcher,’ she says. ‘You saw Brandon Wells, the man you accused of murdering your sister, the one the police were seeking for theft, in a car with Gideon Risborough and Alan Wells and you told no one, didn’t call the police. Would you please explain to the court why?’
Ruth sighs. ‘It’s a bit embarrassing really,’ she says. ‘The problem was I’d called the police before, claiming to have seen Brandon. It was to kick their backsides into gear, because they were doing nothing, as far as I could tell. They started getting quite sharp with me. In the end my friend, the chief constable, who I knew from my charity work, called me, off the record, and told me to stop. Or I’d be charged with wasting police time.’
‘He can verify this?’
‘Unfortunately, he’s long dead, but there may be detectives from that time who remember taking my calls.’
Ralph half stands. ‘Former detective Crane said as much in his testimony,’ he says.
Dryden doesn’t acknowledge him.
‘Go on,’ she says to Ruth.
‘And then, you see, I felt such a fool when I did spot him. I was the typical girl who cried wolf.’
‘And this was definitely after the bank holiday, after Mrs Pike had died?’
‘It was the day of the inquest, 22nd September 1994,’ Ruth says.
‘Can you tell the court why you never mentioned this before, during your questioning by the police?’
‘There’s a very simple answer – no one asked.’
This raises another smile from the woman in the pink scarf.
‘You’re aware your testimony directly contradicts that of Mr Risborough and Mr Johns, both of whom last recall seeing Brandon in early August?’
‘Is that what they said? They must have forgotten,’ Ruth says.
‘Mrs Fletcher.’ Dryden sounds exasperated. ‘You are seventy-four – is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm,’ Dryden says. ‘Given that three people’s lives and liberty rest on your testimony and given the events were twenty-four years ago, would you like to reconsider?’
‘No thank you. I know what I saw.’
‘You haven’t merged the memory, of seeing the three young men another time, with walking home from your sister’s inquest?’
‘No, I haven’t.’ Ruth’s eyes focus in on Dryden. ‘I’m sorry if my testimony doesn’t suit your client’s version of events. But I saw what I saw and I’ve no reason to lie. The lamp and rug disappeared after I saw those three back in Guildford.
Ruth telling her lie to Ralph was a stroke of luck, letting it settle in the jury’s mind before Dryden had a chance to pull it apart.
‘You must realise, Mrs Fletcher, that sudden changes in court, to the version given to the police, cause suspicion.’
‘It’s not a change, it’s an addition and I said, if anyone had asked me, I would have told them.’
The Verdict Page 29