The Darkness Around Her

by The Darkness Around Her (retail) (epub)

  ‘And, of course, there is the other thing.’

  ‘Other thing?’

  ‘You can go after Sean Martin.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, there is that. Come on, let’s go into court.’

  They emerged back on to the court corridor and the usher appeared ahead, holding her hands out in exasperation.

  ‘You wait out here,’ Dan said to Jayne, and headed for the courtroom.

  ‘Why can’t I come in?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea.’

  As Dan got to the door, with everyone else crowding behind him, he said to the usher, ‘Can this be in chambers?’

  The usher shouted, ‘Everyone will need to stay outside,’ and held the door open for Dan.

  Francesca was waiting for him, her leg crossed, her arms folded. ‘More fun today, Mr Grant? I thought we were never going to start.’

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that because his plan was still forming loosely in his head. ‘Possibly. I need some time with the judge.’

  The court assistant rose from her seat. ‘I heard you say that you want it to be in chambers.’

  Dan nodded.

  She went towards the door that would take her into the tranquil space behind the scenes.

  Once she’d gone, Francesca said, ‘What’s going on now?’

  ‘I’ve pinned down his defence.’

  Francesca looked surprised. ‘Halfway through his trial? That’ll go down well with the judge.’ Her gaze grew suspicious. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Loss of control.’

  ‘Is this a joke?’

  ‘A woman died. I don’t joke. And I thought you’d be pleased. If it succeeds, it’s manslaughter, which is still a prison sentence, and still a tick in your conviction column.’

  Before Francesca could respond, the door opened and the assistant said, ‘The judge will see you now.’

  Dan and Francesca followed her through the door, into the hush and calm of the judges’ corridor. A knock on the door, and they waited until they heard the command to enter.

  The judge looked impatient, glowering at Dan as he gestured to them both to sit down.

  ‘Mr Grant, there’d better be a good reason why you have kept the court waiting this morning. I’ve been told that even though you knew that I was waiting, that the court was waiting, you refused to end the conversation with your client.’

  ‘It wasn’t a conversation, it was a consultation, and he was providing me with up-to-date instructions.’

  The judge leaned forward over his desk. ‘There is never a good time to keep me waiting. Do you understand that?’

  Every ounce of common sense was telling Dan to apologise and puff up the judge’s ego, but fatigue, stress and all of his worry about Pat came flooding back in.

  He met the judge’s glare. ‘This was more important than court etiquette. My client’s liberty is at stake and that comes first.’

  The judge’s nostrils flared. ‘Tread carefully, Mr Grant.’

  ‘I am, because for the first time my client has told me what happened on that night. For over four months he’s refused to talk to me about the case for reasons he would never say. I couldn’t risk leaving him because he might clam up again. If Your Lordship wants me to apologise, I will. I’ll say the words. If Your Lordship wants me to mean them, that’ll be a longer wait.’

  The judge said nothing for a few seconds. The tension in the room grew. Francesca was sitting back, wanting whatever was going to happen to not involve her.

  The judge broke the silence. ‘What’s his defence?’

  ‘Loss of control.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘I prefer to wait until Peter Box is giving evidence.’

  ‘This is not your courtroom, Mr Grant, but mine. I will tell you what will and will not happen.’

  ‘I have told Your Lordship the defence that is to be advanced. I have told the prosecution. Elizabeth Barnsley died at his hands, he admits that, but he was so overwhelmed by a combination of events, very grave events, that he could not control himself.’

  ‘You’re stating the law, nothing more, Mr Grant.’

  ‘Another person has been committing murders, and Peter Box reacted to that threat; he couldn’t cope with the thought of it.’

  ‘Are you going to name this person?’

  ‘I am, My Lord.’

  He turned to the prosecutor. ‘Ms McIntyre, what do you have to say?’

  She was silent for a few moments. Eventually, she said, ‘He can’t do this. Up until now, he’s been rubbishing the case, pointing to problems with the DNA. Now, he accepts he killed her, that it’s his DNA on her shoe. It’s a farce.’

  ‘No, it’s your closing speech,’ the judge said. ‘Are you objecting to this line of defence?’

  ‘It’s an attack on someone’s character, whoever this person is.’

  ‘Sean Martin,’ Dan said.

  Francesca whirled round at that. ‘The Sean Martin?’

  ‘One and the same.’

  A smile played on the judge’s lips. ‘Ms McIntyre, do you object? I’d be surprised if you did. If Mr Grant wants to conduct his trial like this, I’m surprised you’re concerned. The jury will see what you see, that the defendant is changing his defence mid-trial.’

  ‘And all the time the defendant has an appeal ready, because there is no way this will be seen as adequate representation.’

  Dan tutted. ‘Save your barbs. You can call him as rebuttal evidence. I can hardly object.’

  Francesca turned to him. ‘You’re reaching too high, Dan, can’t you see that? You’re out of your depth, plain and simple.’

  The judge slammed his hand on the desk. ‘Both of you, enough. And as for you,’ he said pointing at Dan, ‘I’ll deal with your competency afterwards. I’ll give the prosecution an hour to consider their position, but the case will resume then. Now get out.’

  ‘The prosecution can close their case now,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll agree the rest of the evidence. Let my learned friend read it all out to the jury. It all falls now on the defendant.’

  ‘You’re not in control, Mr Grant. One hour.’

  They both filed out of the judge’s chambers. Once in the courtroom again, Francesca threw her papers on the desk. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

  ‘I’m playing the only hand I’ve got. Just call the case back on. I want this over with.’

  He rushed out of the courtroom. Normally, this was where he felt he belonged, but it was all spinning too fast now. He needed air. He felt everyone’s stares on him as he swept through the security barrier, but he kept on going, stopping only when he got to the street. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The case was about to get even more testing, but at least he was going to get some truth out there. Lizzie and Rosie and all the others deserved that.

  Forty-nine

  Dan kept his eyes closed as he leaned back against the stone wall of the courthouse. Perspiration speckled his forehead, and he knew it was the pressure of the case. He could feel his nerves showing in the flush of his cheeks. Perhaps the robing room taunts were right. Perhaps he was out of his depth.

  On top of it all were his worries about Pat’s disappearance, like a gnawing pain, the certainty that the outcome wasn’t going to be a good one.

  Footsteps came close. He opened his eyes. It was Jayne.

  ‘I wondered where you’d gone. Any developments?’

  He shook his head. ‘I had to get out. The prosecutor is taking some time to think about her next move.’

  ‘And you’re going to loiter here until she does?’

  ‘What else can I do?’ He straightened back and stretched. ‘I had to get out. It was smothering me.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Dan thought about that for a few seconds before he said, ‘Follow Sean Martin, like before. The news will filter back somehow, and I want to know how he reacts.’

  ‘Listen, Dan, are you sure you’re doing the right thing, a
nd for the right reason?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Are you sure that you’re doing this for your client, what’s best for him, and not for Pat? You keep telling me how your job is to help people, no matter what they’ve done, but Pat’s disappearance might be clouding that.’

  ‘No, I can’t be sure, but I have a client who has told me a story that makes sense, in its own way. He wants to tell it, and I can’t think of a single good reason why I should stop him. If it helps to trap whoever is behind Pat’s disappearance, I’m happy with that. And it might be the only way.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Good. I’ll go then. I’ll keep you up to date.’

  Just before she went, Dan said, ‘Be careful. I might already have lost someone I care about this week. Don’t let me lose you as well.’

  Her eyes glistened for a moment. ‘You’re stuck with me. Sorry about that.’

  Dan leaned back against the wall again, wanting to close his eyes again, but he saw Murdoch heading towards him.

  As she got in front of Dan, she folded her arms. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Francesca not shared the news?’

  ‘She’s told me that Peter is going to admit to killing Lizzie, but if Peter killed her, why are we still having a trial?’

  ‘Loss of control, that’s the defence. He saw Lizzie and he snapped, could no longer control his anger.’

  ‘That’s the game then? Pretend he wasn’t involved but as soon as you realise you can’t get out of that, you come up with something new?’

  There was a growl to his voice when he said, ‘I’m not answerable to you, Murdoch. Not now, not ever.’

  ‘I’m not your enemy, Dan.’

  ‘If that’s the case, do one thing for me: nail Sean Martin.’

  ‘How? Your firm got him released, remember?’

  ‘This case is all about Sean Martin. It always has been. I just never realised how much. Do you want to get him or not?’

  Murdoch stepped closer. ‘I’ve been wanting to get that bastard ever since he walked out of prison.’

  ‘This is your chance. I told you what he told Pat. This all ties in.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, not until Peter makes it public, but look for the links between those deaths I mentioned. You were looking for Peter in them before. Look again, but this time look for Sean Martin.’

  ‘He’d have shown up before if he’s connected, because his name is like a beacon to us.’

  ‘Not back then it wasn’t. He’s in there somewhere, but you’ve got to go after him when you find it. He knew Claire Watkins. Did you realise that?’

  She looked confused. ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘There you go. At least two deaths are connected to him, if you include his stepdaughter. Look for the rest. Just promise me that you won’t let it go.’

  ‘You know me well enough now, Dan.’

  ‘I do. That’s why I’m glad it’s you.’

  ‘Is this why you’re doing this, to get Sean Martin?’

  Dan stayed silent for a few seconds before he began to nod slowly. ‘The prosecution won’t let me blame Sean Martin without giving him a chance to rebut it, because if he can answer for himself, it’ll destroy any chance Peter has. Francesca won’t allow Peter’s testimony to be given unopposed. He will have to come to court. Speak to him, tell him that. It’ll spook him.’

  ‘And when he comes to court—’

  Dan clenched his jaw. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  * * *

  Jayne headed for her car, pleased that her day had acquired more purpose than just sitting in court and watching Dan do his stuff. Bill Maude was on a bench further along, waiting for court to resume, muttering to himself. When he saw her, he stood and rushed towards her.

  ‘What’s happening? Why is there a delay?’

  Jayne put her hand on his. ‘I can’t say but go inside and watch. Today you might get some answers.’

  ‘What, about my Tom?’

  ‘No, not about Tom, I’m sorry, but some of what you believed turned out to be true. Not the part you wanted, but you’ve done some good.’

  ‘Don’t make me wait. What is it?’

  Jayne rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t. It’s confidential. Until Peter gets in the witness box and makes it public, it has to stay private.’

  ‘At least give me a clue.’

  Jayne thought about that for a few moments before she said, ‘Sean Martin is the key, and his boat.’

  ‘His boat?’

  ‘You said someone was roaming the canals. There’s your answer. But that’s all I’m saying.’

  He nodded, pleased with that. ‘That’s what I wanted. It wasn’t just about Tom.’

  Jayne didn’t challenge him. Instead, she went to walk towards her car.

  Bill shouted after her, ‘Where does he keep it?’

  ‘The marina next to a garden centre in Highford. I’ve got to go, Bill. You take care now,’ and she trotted towards the car park, leaving Bill and the courthouse behind.

  She checked her watch. She reckoned she could get to Sean Martin’s house in twenty minutes. She didn’t know whether Sean realised what was about to happen in the courtroom, but she had to be in place when it did.

  Something occurred to her. The day could end up being long and dull and she thought of the perfect way to occupy her mind. She made a quick detour to a bookshop and found what she was looking for. Sean Martin’s autobiography.

  The journey was uneventful, just a short drive along the motorway until she turned off and the countryside opened out.

  She parked in the same place she did the first time she’d watched Sean, down the hill but close enough for a view of his house. Hopefully far enough away that she couldn’t be seen.

  As she waited, she started to read his book. Virtually everyone Jayne had interviewed about him had said that Sean Martin had a high opinion of himself. That fitted in with how he’d taunted Pat Molloy with the information about the murder weapon. Wouldn’t he do the same to his readers? Were there subtle clues in the book that allowed him to laugh at the readers too?

  Sean’s book began with his arrest, not Rosie’s death; he wrote of his surprise and shock at being accused of such a horrendous crime. The words seemed sincere, and Jayne struggled to read it, knowing the truth.

  She glanced up towards the house now and then. There were no signs of anyone there, and there was only one car in the driveway.

  She flicked to the plates section. Rosie was prominent in the early photos, although the pictures were only ever of her with Sean as the doting stepfather. Rosie looked happy in his company, no sign of what was to come. After that there were some pictures of the crime scene – police tape stretched across the towpath and police cars visible on the road nearby – before it moved on to images of Sean on the court steps, speaking emotionally into a sea of microphones, Pat Molloy just behind him.

  The next few photographs were all about Sean and Trudy, the woman who had stood by him: on Sean’s boat, the name stencilled on the side, SOMEWHERE QUIET, moored in the countryside near a rundown old cottage; sitting on a patch of grass, Trudy in his arms, both looking contented and carefree.

  She closed the book. She couldn’t stand to read it.

  All she could do was watch and wait.

  Fifty

  Murdoch stubbed out the cigarette on her heel, careful to put the tab end into her pocket, ready to be thrown into a bin before she went into the police station. There were too many junior police staff ready to complain about her littering if they saw her chuck it on the ground. Her mind had been working hard during the journey back from the court and she realised that she was about to go against what had been pretty much the core of her whole police career: she was going to help the defence.

  Everyone looked around as she strode into the incident room. DC John Richards was already taking down the pictures of Lizzie Barnsley.

&n
bsp; ‘Not just yet,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Richards was one of the younger detectives on the squad, his dark hair gelled into a collection of spikes and his shirt not yet filled by a desk-bound copper’s paunch. He held two photographs in one hand and had been stretching to take another down.

  ‘The trial is nearly over, yes, and we know that Peter killed her, but he’s dragging Sean Martin into it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know, because he hasn’t said anything yet.’

  ‘What are we doing then?’

  ‘We’re going to get Sean Martin into court.’

  ‘We’re saving his reputation? Is that our job?’

  ‘No. Our job is to catch killers.’ She pulled a list from her pocket. ‘These are the cases Dan Grant asked me to look into yesterday. We’re going to go through them again and find out whether Sean Martin could have been involved in any of them.’

  ‘When does the prosecutor want this information? It could take forever.’

  Murdoch smiled. ‘She doesn’t. This is for Dan Grant. He reckons the prosecutor will want Sean Martin in court to rebut whatever Peter says. If Sean Martin is involved, I want that bastard. I bet we all do. Everyone in this building has been waiting for that moment for a long time. But we need to be thorough, because if we can’t find something to nail him with, all we’ll have are the ramblings of a madman and Sean Martin on the news, playing at being innocent again.’

  ‘Do we arrest him if we find something?’

  ‘Not yet. We let Dan Grant know, because I want to see what answers Sean Martin gives from the witness box. He might stay silent if we bring him in. He won’t if he’s in the witness box, because he’ll know it will all end up in the papers if he does.’

  Richards started pinning the photographs back on the wall. ‘I’m confused now. Are we sticking up for Peter Box and helping his defence? It seems wrong somehow.’

  ‘I’m more interested in catching a killer than I am in picking sides.’ She clapped her hands and grinned. ‘Let’s catch Sean Martin.’

  * * *

  Bill drove on to the car park close to the marina and could barely suppress his smile. He was closer to getting answers. Ever since Tom’s death, he’d dreamed of this moment. He felt some anger towards Dan, but he chided himself. He shouldn’t have hoped for so much. Dan was a lawyer. He was only there for the courtroom showcase. It was just theatre, judged in terms of winning and losing, cold and callous.