‘Because I hadn’t.’ It was the obvious answer, but it wasn’t what Cassie was hoping to establish.
‘But you hadn’t seen a gun or a baseball bat had you?’
‘Golf club. Saw a golf club.’ He continued to stare at her, defying her to continue with her questions.
‘Mr Montgomery had the golf club, but you were referring to your brother and his friends. Did one of them have a knife?’
‘I never saw one.’ Chris thumped his fist down on the arm of his chair. ‘I never saw a knife.’
‘Did your brother have a knife?’
‘No. No.’ He wiped his face with his hand and looked away. His defiance was crumbling; Cassie knew he was beginning to weaken as she got close to the truth.
‘What about Jas or Loveday?’
‘I never saw a knife.’ Now there was truculence in his eyes; there was no point in pursuing that line of questions. She would try a different approach.
‘Did either Jas or Loveday ever carry a knife?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see one.’ He began to sob; Cassie waited for him to calm down.
‘Have you talked to either Jas or Loveday about what happened that day?’
‘A bit.’
‘Did one of them say anything about a knife?’
Chris put his head down again; his voice so low she could only just hear him. ‘I can’t remember.’ If he had been an adult she would have repeated the question, implying she didn’t believe the witness couldn’t remember, but not this traumatised boy. Instead she would take another tack.
‘Had you seen either of them with a knife before?’
He lifted his tear-stained face towards her. Cassie hoped he would answer and she wouldn’t have to persist in questioning him, hurting him.
‘I think Loveday usually had one.’
‘Thank you. I’ve no more questions, My Lord.’
She sat down, leant back in her chair and took a deep breath.
Judge Crabtree told Christopher he was free to go but he must not talk to any of the other witnesses about the case. ‘I know Jonathan Wilding and Leon Campbell may want to know what you were asked today, but don’t tell them anything. Do you understand?’ Chris said he did, and then the court clerk switched off the TV screens, cameras and microphones.
‘I think that’s enough for today,’ Judge Crabtree said as he left the bench.
Cassie asked James how he thought the jury had reacted to Christopher Young, but before he could answer the court usher came towards her and said, ‘This has been left for you at the front desk,’ handing Cassie a white envelope with the words M/s Hardman typed on the front. Cassie thanked the man and moved over to some seats where she could put her papers down and open the note.
‘Oh no.’ She handed the piece of paper to James. After he had read it he gave it back to her.
‘You weren’t being hard on him at all. Anyway, whoever it is can’t see the screens very well so he doesn’t know how the kid took your questions.’
‘He must have been here in court. What does he want?’ she said. She wasn’t expecting a reply, but there was no opportunity as Montgomery came towards them. His face was red and his lips were clamped together.
‘Mr Montgomery, this is Zac.’
‘Who the hell …’ Montgomery said.
Cassie grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side. ‘He’s going to be with us, making notes and generally there to make sure our case goes smoothly. Please, I don’t want an argument about it. He’s here to help.’ She scowled at him. Montgomery opened his mouth as if to comment. She said, ‘I think that went very well. Christopher couldn’t see clearly what happened and he says Loveday carried a knife.’
She turned away and walked towards the staircase, clutching the white envelope. Whoever Delaney was he had managed to get past the initial scrutiny of the security staff. She didn’t want to think about him anymore.
Chapter 22
Cassie was relieved the trial had finally started and the first day was over without her being given the sack by Montgomery. Back in the safety of her top-floor flat, she unpacked her briefcase and took out the envelope she guessed was from the inscrutable Delaney. She pulled out the printed note and read it again. ‘You appear to enjoy making vulnerable witnesses cry. Like Emma.’
She screwed the paper up into a ball and then opened it again and straightened it out as best she could, stuffed it back into the envelope and threw it into the drawer of her desk. For a moment she stood by the desk and stroked the polished oak. She felt exhausted and wanted to close her eyes. She was finding this trial particularly hard. She disliked the defendant. His racism upset her; only her professionalism kept her working on the case. She walked into the bedroom and dropped onto her bed. The room was cool and there was the faint smell of her perfume.
Cassie lay stretched out but her hands made tight fists and every time she closed her eyes the words enjoying, vulnerable witnesses and crying seemed to be etched on the inside of her eyelids. Yet she knew her cross examination of Christopher Young had been considerate, some might say too considerate. She hadn’t needed to accuse him of lying because he really hadn’t seen anything, and he’d volunteered the piece of evidence that enabled her to establish Loveday carried a knife. Delaney’s real interest was in the Sadler case and he’d referred to Emma, the complainant in that case. Emma Gilbrook had been tearful and distressed, but she hadn’t broken down during cross examination.
She wouldn’t think about the Sadler case. She’d think about the witnesses who would be called the next day. Could she get Jas Wilding to admit his friend had a knife? Had the two boys got together the evening of the incident and agreed to deny any knowledge of the knife Loveday had used to threaten Montgomery? She sighed and roused herself; she needed to go over the statements again, but first she would have supper. Since childhood, she had always enjoyed cooking. She had spent many hours in the kitchen of their terraced home in Lancaster helping with family meals as well as with the cakes her mother baked and decorated as a way of adding to their income. It had been her ambition to be a chef until her headmistress had told her she should set her sights on university. She took a piece of salmon from the fridge, wrapped it in foil with some lime juice, coriander and ginger and placed it in the oven. Then she pulled the cork from a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured herself a large glass. The fish would take about twenty minutes. While she waited she turned on her computer and opened her Facebook page. There was an update from her sister about a satisfactory Ofsted inspection at the school where she taught. Cassie clicked the Like button and added her congratulations. Then she turned to her emails. Amongst them was one from her Head of Chambers, Richard Jago. He had sent a copy to every member informing them there would be a chambers meeting on the following Friday. Cassie was immediately suspicious.
She checked the salmon and decided it needed a little longer so, while she waited for her supper to cook, she settled down at her desk. From the window she could see, level with the sill, the pale green canopy of the London plane that grew in the next-door garden. The light was fading but for a moment she watched the leaves sway in the light breeze. She thought of summers at home, family outings to Glasson Dock or the Trough of Bowland, before reprimanding herself for procrastinating. She turned back to her files and began working on the statements of the two boys. Jas, she mused, was more likely to admit to the knife being wielded because it wasn’t his, but even if the jury believed Loveday had a knife, would they think that was a sufficient reason to strike any one of the boys? Would they ask themselves why Montgomery hadn’t gone back into the shop and called the police? She hadn’t got very far in analysing the documents when she was interrupted by the sound of xylophone notes from her mobile. She picked up the phone. The caller was Alex Seymour. She didn’t really want to answer; she had passed on the information Stephen had provided even though she felt she was betraying a confidence. Nevertheless, she pressed the button to answer the call.
‘Cassie,
I’ve been looking at the CRIS report on Hales. I’m puzzled by him wearing jeans when he was arrested. Doesn’t he wear a suit to work? I know I asked him in interview but he didn’t explain …’
‘He told me he’d been clearing up one of our rooms. One we use for storage. He didn’t want his suit messed up.’
‘Is that true?’
‘The room was tidied up recently. I can’t say when but I have no reason to doubt Roger.’
‘I think we may have to start interviewing some of your colleagues. Trying to trace the drugs back to the supplier.’
‘Have you been to Cotburn Mews?’
‘Can you tell us who suggested the mews was where the drugs were supplied from?’
‘One of my friends told me, but I’m sure the drugs were not his.’
‘Sure they were not his?’
‘He was working on a case in Liverpool at the time so wasn’t in chambers.’
‘Ok. Cotburn …’
Cassie’s attention shifted away as she heard something that sounded like movement in the hallway. She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Alex.’
‘What?’
‘I think I can hear something in the hall.’ Cassie was silent, hardly breathing so that she didn’t miss any sound. She could hear the slow tap of one foot being placed in front of the other outside the sitting room door. Cupping her hand round the mobile, she placed her mouth close to it and said, ‘Stay on the line.’ She put her mobile down on the green Chesterfield sofa. She could still hear Alex’s voice and guessed she was asking what was going on. Her stockinged feet made no noise as she crept towards the door. She put out her hand to open it. As the tip of her fingers closed on the handle, the timer rang. Cassie flung open the door into the small hallway of her flat but there was no one there. The carpets on the stairs she shared with other occupants were thick to deaden any sound; nevertheless, she thought she could hear footsteps going down the four flights, then the front door closing. She ran to her bedroom window and looked down onto the street. It must have started to rain as the pavement gleamed, but there was no sign of anyone walking away from the house. She tried to see if there was someone in one of the vehicles parked along the road, but all she saw was either their roofs or the glint of light reflected from their windscreens. She went back to the phone and told Alex what had occurred. As she explained she walked back into her bedroom and over to the window and to see if any of the cars moved away.
‘Is there anyone in the street?’ Alex said.
‘No, no. There’s no one about, but I’m sure there was someone in the hall. I’m certain.’ She walked into the small corridor. ‘The door isn’t closed.’ She pushed it to and the latch clicked. ‘I didn’t leave it open.’
‘Are you sure? Is there any sign of a forced entry?’
‘Not that I can see. Oh wait. There are some scratches by the lock. I don’t remember seeing them before.’
‘Cassie, what is this about?’
‘I don’t know, but … those strange emails and today a note was left at court accusing me of making a witness cry.’
‘Some crank? You must report it.’
‘No. I can’t. I can’t spend the time going to the police station, making a statement. For what? I have no idea who was there. We’re not the most popular of people with the police, as you well know. They’ll think I’m mad, hearing things.’
‘Look, I really think you need to make a formal complaint. If you are being watched and an officer comes round, whoever it is will hopefully back off.’
Cassie knew she was right. She should report the break-in, if that’s what it was.
‘Ok. You’re probably right. I’ll do that.’
After she had spoken to the police, she went into the kitchen and pulled the overcooked salmon from the oven, decided she didn’t want it and put it in the kitchen bin.
The policeman who arrived in response to her call listened to her account of hearing someone in the hall. He was, she thought, a new recruit. He was sympathetic, although she was sure he didn’t believe her. She saw him look at the almost empty wine bottle on the table. He clearly thought she had been drinking. She wondered about telling him she had only had two glasses and the rest she had drunk the night before, but instead she pointed out the mark on the door to her flat. He looked at it before moving back to the sitting room. He sat down on the sofa and took out his notebook and pen, made a few notes, then flipped it shut and said, ‘Are you sure there was someone in the flat? Could it have been one of the occupants of the other properties? Who lives in the one below you?’
‘She’s an air stewardess and is away a lot of the time.’
She had just finished explaining that she hadn’t seen or heard her neighbour for a few days when the sound of what was probably a television programme floated up from the flat below.
The young officer got up. ‘I’ll make a note at the station and arrange for the patrol car to sweep past later on. Just in case.’
Cassie ushered him out of the door, convinced he thought she was a neurotic female.
Chapter 23
The next day Cassie was the first person into the courtroom. She put her papers down on the wooden bench and opened the file of witness statements. When she was about halfway through reading the two boys’ statements, she heard the double doors of the courtroom being thrust open and Marcus strode into the room to his place on counsels’ bench.
‘Cassie. How are you this morning?’ He looked over the top of his dark-rimmed spectacles. ‘You look a little tired. Not your usual perky self.’
‘I’m fine. Are your two heroes here fighting to give evidence?’
‘Why wouldn’t they be? They have only to tell the truth.’
‘Whatever that may be.’
‘Cassie, Cassie don’t go all cynical on me. You’re much too sweet a girl for that.’
‘I’m …’ At that moment there was a rap on the judge’s door and they all rose to their feet.
Once the judge and jury were in place, Marcus called Jas Wilding to give evidence. Jas was a tall, muscular, sixteen-year-old. His hair had been cut much shorter than in the shots of him taken by the security camera. He was dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt with the green and gold tie of his school. Today the knot was properly secured around his neck rather than hanging on his chest as it had been in the CCTV recording.
Marcus established Jas was at the same school as Leon Campbell, who he called Loveday, and Albie Young, and then question by question got Jas to give his account of the incident at the sweet shop.
Part way through, Marcus put one elbow on his lectern and turned to face the jury so that Wilding could not see his face. Wilding was addressing all his answers to the lawyer as if they were having a conversation. Cassie wasn’t surprised by Marcus’s move. Her experience was that this would make the witness speak out towards the jury. Marcus, certainly, would be hoping so. For a moment the Wilding seemed puzzled by the manoeuvre, but then began to give his account of the incident. Cassie now looked towards the jury box, and caught the eye of a woman in her forties wearing a pink shirt with the collar turned up.
Cassie grinned when Marcus asked Wilding what they had done with the magazines they had taken from the top shelf and Wilding said, ‘You couldn’t do anything with them. They were wrapped in that plastic stuff.’
Marcus had persisted. ‘What did you do then?’
‘Took the wrappers off.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘To see what was inside.’
There were some hastily stifled sniggers from the jury benches and from the public gallery, but Cassie didn’t see who had laughed. Judge Crabtree had looked up at the gallery and asked for silence.
Marcus continued questioning Wilding, drawing from him his version of the events that had led to the death of Albie Young. As he was asked about the way the incident had ended, Wilding’s left hand was on the edge of the witness box, but with the other he reached for his tie and moved the knot a
little. She was sure he was lying now they were getting to the real nub of the case.
‘You walked away?’ Marcus said.
‘I didn’t run, but left a bit, yeah, a bit smartish like.’ He swayed slightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
‘What about Loveday and Albie?’
‘They were behind me, I think.’
‘Did you leave the shop?’
‘Had to. He came running from behind the counter, swinging this club thing.’
‘Exhibit twenty-three, My Lord,’ Robin Tasker said as he selected an item from where it lay with the others on a table to one side of the courtroom.
The usher held up a long plastic-wrapped package that was clearly a golf club. Marcus indicated she was to hand the item to Wilding. The witness held it at shoulder height away from the witness box.
‘Is that the club?’ Marcus said.
‘It could be. I didn’t look at it that closely at the time.’
‘No, of course not. By this time you’re outside the shop. What about Albie and Loveday?’
‘We were all in the street.’
‘How far away from the shop door?’
‘Not sure. I looked round to see what Monty was doing. If he was coming after us.’
‘And the two others?’
‘They stopped as well. He said we’d taken chocolates and we should hand them back. He was going to call the police.’
‘Had you stolen anything from the shop?’
Wilding looked towards the judge and then at Marcus before saying, ‘I took a few bars of chocolate.’
‘Did you give the bars back?’
‘No. Loveday said to him, call the police. He said – that’s Loveday – we’d tell them he was a pervert.’
‘Where was Monty by this time?’
‘At the door. Swinging that thing.’ Jas pointed to the golf club which the usher had placed on the bench by Marcus Pike, who picked it up and held it by the handle. Cassie was reminded of the way he’d held the red high-heeled shoe of the murdered woman when she had been led by him in the Barker case.
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