When she had finished reading and rereading the witness statement and the article, she felt ready to try and undermine this new witness or at least make the jury feel she might be unreliable. She printed her notes and the newspaper reports and was about to turn off her computer, but decided to check her inbox again.
There was only one new email. It was from Delaney. She opened it and then shuddered.
Chapter 30
Mrs Munroe was a tall, slim Afro-Caribbean woman of about fifty, dressed in a navy blue suit with an emerald green silky blouse. She looked around the courtroom and then walked to the witness box without any hesitation. She stood erect and held the bible in a firm grasp as she read the words of the oath from the card she had been given in a clear Scottish accent.
Robin Tasker asked her to give her full name.
‘Edie Kathleen Munroe,’ she said.
‘Yesterday you contacted the police and said you believed you could give evidence about this case.’
Mrs Munroe looked at Robin Tasker as if he was a simpleton, and then turned her attention to Judge Crabtree. ‘Yes, I’d seen the incident but thought nothing about it. I assumed the boys had been chased away from the shop by the older man. I thought he was probably the shopkeeper. I didn’t realise anyone had been hurt, much less died as a result of the incident. So when I read a report about the case in the Evening Standard I thought I ought to call the police.’
‘That was the edition of the paper published on Tuesday evening?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Tell us what you saw.’
‘I was walking along the road on the opposite side from the row of shops when I heard shouting and swearing. The voices were very loud, it was impossible to ignore it, so I looked across and saw a group of four boys standing on the pavement in front of the shop door.’
‘Can you tell us what you heard? Please, the exact words as you remember them.’
‘It’s quite a while ago but I think someone was shouting wanker and paedo. It may have been perv. The implication being the older man was a paedophile.’
‘Could you tell who was shouting?’
‘The noise was coming from the boys but I couldn’t say who was saying which words.’
‘Was there anyone else apart from the boys? I should ask you first, did you know any of the youths?’
‘No, I didn’t know any of them, although I thought the youngest may have been a pupil at my school. I’m headmistress at Cotburn Primary.’
Cassie turned to observe the jury; Edie Munroe was an impressive witness even without knowledge of her occupation. The female juror who always wore a pink shirt was writing furiously in her notebook. Cassie and James had speculated on how many pink shirts the fifty-year-old had.
‘Can you describe the boys?’
‘No, not really. They had their backs to me, but they were all Afro-Caribbean or mixed race I believe.’
‘In addition to the youths, was there anyone else near the door of the shop?’
‘I didn’t see anyone at first, the boys were standing in a circle and then as they began to move away, I saw an older white man waving a golf club at them. His words were very racist.’
‘What was he saying?’
‘I found it rather upsetting – he was calling them niggers. I did think about crossing the road and asking him to stop. I wish I had now.’ She paused and looked around her, then said, ‘He was very angry but, well, I did think the young men were being very abusive as well. I think that affected me. I didn’t want to get involved in whatever they were arguing about.’
If only she had, thought Cassie, Albie Young might well be alive, Montgomery wouldn’t be facing trial and she wouldn’t be defending him. She was sure the jury felt something similar. Cassie heard the sound of someone sobbing in the public gallery; she looked up and saw her client’s wife holding a handkerchief over her mouth. Mrs Montgomery looked directly at Cassie. Even at a distance Cassie could see her face was contorted with misery; Cassie tried to smile but then looked away to avoid the distressed but penetrating gaze.
‘Which direction were the boys moving in when you last saw them?’
‘The man was hitting out with the club, swirling it around, and they were trying to get away from him. Kind of spreading out in different directions in a sort of semicircle.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know how else to describe it. Moving out from the shopkeeper.’
‘You didn’t cross the road, so where did you go?’
‘I kept walking along Ladbroke Grove in the direction of the Underground station. I could hear shouting for a little while, then it stopped and I assumed the lads had run off. I didn’t look back.’
Robin Tasker thanked Mrs Munroe and asked her to wait as she would be asked some more questions.
‘Do you need any more time, Miss Hardman?’ said Judge Crabtree.
‘No, I can begin cross examination,’ Cassie said before turning towards the witness box. ‘Mrs Munroe, you’ve told us you learnt of the death of Albie Young when you read the report of this case in the newspapers. Would it be right then to assume that the younger boy you saw was not a pupil at your school?’
‘Yes, I would have known about the incident if he had been and last night I checked the pupil roll in order to be sure, but we had no one who could have been a relative of the dead boy.’
‘I first received a copy of your statement last night, so would the newspaper report have been in the evening newspaper the night before?’
‘Yes, I rang Scotland Yard originally and they took my name and address, then Miss Kotzeva rang me yesterday morning and we arranged for her to come to my school. I live in Lewisham, so that seemed the most convenient place to meet.’
‘And no doubt the most expeditious. Did you see the report of the incident when the young man died in March?’
‘Not that I am aware of. If I did I didn’t make the connection with the incident I had witnessed.’
‘What was it about the report in Monday’s paper that made you believe it was the incident you saw?’
‘I’m not sure. The location was described in detail, the sweet shop. I remembered it because it reminded me of similar shops when I was a child.’
‘Did you see or hear the ambulance or police vehicles racing up Ladbroke Grove?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘When you first noticed the group, how far away were they?’ Cassie was being careful; the witness’s description of the incident was different from the youths but also from her client’s. If her version was believed by the jury then Montgomery had been chasing the young men, not defending himself.
‘It’s difficult to judge. They were about ten metres in front of me and across the road when I first heard the shouting, so I would guess about twenty metres.’
‘They had their backs to you, so would it be right you could not see what, if anything, any of them was carrying?’
‘No, I couldn’t see.’
‘The youngest of these boys, was he with the group or a little way apart?’
Mrs Munroe screwed her eyes up as if looking at a picture. ‘I think he was by the window of the shop when I first noticed him.’
‘Would this be right: looking at the group from where you were walking he would have been on the left of the other three?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Did he move further to the left or towards the other boys?’
The expression on the witness’s face changed as if she realised there was something inaccurate in her account. ‘I thought they all moved away from the shop – you know, dispersed – but …’ She paused. ‘Actually, I think he must have run away first, because I can only remember three young men moving outward.’
‘You’re saying the younger boy had vanished?’
‘He was there, then he wasn’t. I don’t know what happened to him.’
‘The shopkeeper, when did you first see him?’
‘He wasn’t there when I first looked
. I’m sure of that. I didn’t stop to watch what was happening and there was traffic passing, so I suppose I missed him coming out. Also the youths were quite tall and blocked my view. But the next time I looked he was out on the pavement waving this golf club and shouting abuse.’
Cassie had considered suggesting to Mrs Munroe she was mistaken about the golf club and she had taken that description from the newspaper article but, having seen the witness, she decided against that line of questioning. Edie Munroe was not likely to have made that error and would not be persuaded she had, however clever the cross examination. Cassie had to go back to establishing Mrs Munroe had only seen part of the incident.
‘How far had you walked by the time you saw the older man?’
‘I was level with the shop by this time.’
‘You’ve described the boys as being tall and around the door to the shop, blocking your view. Did the boys still have their backs to you?’
‘Yes, they were in a kind of huddle and then – actually I think I saw the end of the club first. I wasn’t sure who was swinging it around. Then they began to move away and I saw the shopkeeper, a man I assumed was the shopkeeper, and realised it was he who had the club.’
‘Did they turn and run away?’
‘Not really, I thought they were trying to keep out of the way of the club. Watching him swinging it around as they backed away.’
‘You describe the boys as moving outwards, can you help us with how far away from the shop door they were when you last saw them?’
‘Not far. A metre at the most.’
‘Would this be an accurate description of your observations? You heard the shouting and looked over at the group of youths standing by the door to the sweet shop. At that stage nothing seemed untoward, is that right?’
‘Yes, I thought a group of youths were being over-boisterous. Actually, that’s being generous to them. Their language was, to put it mildly, very offensive.’
‘You continued walking and then the next time you looked you saw the shopkeeper being abusive to the youths? Was it hearing the word “nigger” that attracted your attention?’
‘Yes, I think it probably was.’ Edie Munroe nodded, lips pressed together.
‘At that point you saw the youths backing away and assumed they were leaving the scene?’
‘I thought it was all over, whatever had caused the dispute between them and the shopkeeper. The shouting stopped suddenly and that confirmed my belief that the incident was at an end. Also I think one of the boys ran past me. I thought they had all gone in different directions.’
Cassie thanked the witness, scribbled a quick note on Mrs Munroe’s statement and then sat down. James leant over the bench and, keeping his voice low, said, ‘That was great. Doesn’t look so bad now.’
Chapter 31
Alex couldn’t get away from thinking about Malcolm Delaney and, if he was the stalker, why he was harassing Cassie Hardman. She hadn’t got the opportunity to ask for Oscar Davenport’s phone number and was annoyed by Cassie’s obstinacy, but she was worried about the risk Cassie might face from her stalker. She had an excuse for speaking to his son, Felix. From the files he was a frequent visitor to the nightclub under the Westway, so even though there was no link with the contaminated drugs, she thought she could justify talking to him. She headed back towards Cambridge Gardens.
Parked on the driveway were the white estate and a transit van decorated with a guitar-playing black male set against a background of blues and purples. She pushed the large white button set in the stone door jamb, and after a minute or so a man came to the door and peered at her. He was about fifty years old and probably about five foot ten. Younger and leaner he might have been thought handsome. Now his hair was beginning to go grey, his skin was pale and he had bags under his eyes. After a brief inspection of her, he asked who she was. She produced her warrant card from her pocket. The man shook his head, and said, ‘What do you want, then?’
‘I’d like to speak to Felix Delaney. You are?’
‘I’m his father. He’s not here.’
For a moment Alex paused and concentrated on the man standing in front of her. This was Malcolm Delaney. He looked such an unassuming man, not someone consumed by anger. She continued with the pretext for being there. ‘Do you know where he is? We want to speak to him.’
‘What about?’
‘We’re making some enquiries about drug use at Peaches.’
‘He doesn’t do drugs.’
‘We just need to speak to him.’
He pursed his lips and looked up at the trees before making eye contact with her again. ‘He’s gone to the sports centre under the Westway.’
‘When was that?’
‘About ten minutes ago.’
Back behind the wheel of her car she turned towards the Westway Sports Centre. Much of the area was inaccessible in a vehicle, but she drove towards the car park under the football pitch and parked on a double yellow line. Her initial guess was that he would be on one of the practice pitches but there was no sign of him. She walked a little further past the tennis courts. The highway was above her and much of the grey concrete that supported the road was covered in garishly coloured graffiti, encouraged by the authorities to hide the depressing location. Alex tried to decide whether she thought this was art or not. They were nothing like Banksy’s work. No wit, nothing political like the kissing policemen. Then she spotted Felix sauntering along about twenty metres in front of her. She called his name and to her surprise he looked round and then stopped. She caught up with him, told him who she was, produced her warrant card.
‘What’s this about?’
‘Drug use at Peaches.’
Felix began walking west again. ‘I’ve got a game of fives round the corner here. What do you want to know?’ he said as he pointed the way round the climbing pyramids. Out of the corner of her eye Alex saw two ponies chasing each other in a small sand arena. She was distracted by their movements.
‘It is a strange place for a riding school,’ said Felix. ‘Gypsies.’
‘I know,’ said Alex. She had been a frequent visitor to the site when she was still in uniform. ‘Do you go to the club, Peaches, much?’
‘Used to. Played there on occasions.’
‘I noticed the van at …’
‘You’ve been to my home?’
‘I saw your dad, he said …’
‘He’s not keen on the police.’
‘Look, why don’t you come back to the station and talk to me there.’
‘Are you arresting me?’
‘I’ve no grounds. I’d just like a chat about a few things.’
Felix looked up at the sky and then at Alex. ‘I’ll come after my game.’
Alex nodded. ‘Ok. See you later.’
She was surprised when two hours later she was told Felix Delaney was in the waiting room. She escorted him into an interview room where they sat down facing each other across a table scarred by cigarette burns.
‘Have you been to Cotburn Mews lately?’
‘Not sure where that is.’
‘Runs off Ladbroke Grove. There’s a square …’
‘Right, I’m with you. Don’t recall going there. Is there any reason I should have done?’
‘We think someone is dealing in cocaine from some premises in there. Have you been there in, say, the last week?
‘No. A week ago I’ve driven up north, played a gig, driven back – it’s a bloody long way. So, no, not been there this week. If at all.’
Felix began to play an imaginary song on the table, and mouthing the words. He was a well-proportioned young man, with long fingers. She noticed the nail on his right thumb was long and she assumed one of the instruments he played was a guitar. His face was thin, the whites of his eyes bright against his tanned skin. He would not look at her. Was that because he knew something about the drug dealing?
‘Do you know anyone who lives in Cotburn Mews, or works there?’
‘I’v
e just been thinking about it. There’s a print workshop?’
‘Used to be.’
‘I got some stuff for the band printed there. A couple of posters, some fliers, that kind of thing. Haven’t been there since then. Must be a couple of years ago.’
Alex told him about the drugs being contaminated. ‘We’ve made a few arrests at Peaches for possession. We need to find the supplier.’
‘I don’t do snowy, never have. Mugs’ game. Smoke a bit of weed. Can’t help, sorry.’
‘I need to fill in a couple of forms about speaking to you. You live in Cambridge Gardens?’
‘With my dad and brother.’
‘Still at home then …?’
‘Can’t afford to rent anywhere else. It’s a big house and we live in the ground-floor flat. The rest is divided into small studios – that is apart from Kelly. She has a one-bedroomed flat.’
‘You said your dad wasn’t keen on the police. Any reason?’
‘There’s been some bother with my sister.’
‘She lives with you?’
‘No, with her mum. Different mothers.’
‘She’s called?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘I’ve said, we’re trying to prevent these drugs being sold.’
‘What’s that got to do with my sister? She’s not an addict or anything.’
‘So what’s the bother with the police?’
‘She was raped. She said the trial was like being assaulted again.’
‘And he thinks the police were to blame?’
‘I don’t know what he thinks. He’s pretty angry.’
‘How angry? Just ranting and raving or …’
‘Or what?’
‘Would he stalk someone he thought responsible for the verdict in the trial?’
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