by Peter Murphy
‘What’s her complaint against the husband?’
‘That’s just it. She doesn’t really have one, except that he works far too hard and gets annoyed with her if she goes out for a night on the town with her friends.’
Aubrey raised his eyebrows.
‘That doesn’t sound like a particularly serious complaint. Did she leave him?’
‘Yes, and she took the children with her.’
‘I’m afraid that sounds rather like desertion to me,’ Aubrey said.
‘Well, she does say they had violent arguments and that he hit her a few times. But he denies any violence, and he comes across as a decent, hard-working kind of man.’
‘That doesn’t mean he didn’t hit her,’ Aubrey pointed out. ‘Domestic violence knows no social barriers.’
Harriet nodded. ‘Agreed, but –’
‘But you don’t believe her?’
‘I’m not sure I do. And it gets worse.’
‘Oh?’
‘The other side has been talking to her friends. Apparently, they’re saying that she drinks too much, and that recently she’s been taking hard drugs and associating with drug dealers.’
‘Is that true, do you think?’
‘Yes, I think it may well be.’
Aubrey looked up at the ceiling for some time.
‘Who’s on the other side?’
‘Jess Farrar.’
He smiled. ‘Mrs Ben Schroeder?’
‘Don’t be so sexist, Aubrey. You are as bad as Filby. She is Jess Farrar.’
‘Sorry, no offence intended. She’s very good, so I hear.’
‘That doesn’t get you off the hook. But yes, she is.’
He shook his head.
‘Well, if she can persuade Bernard that anything like that is going on – drugs and the like – you can wave goodbye to custody. He may not even allow her access except under strict supervision. You know how conservative he is about things like that.’
‘That’s my problem, Aubrey. I’m not sure the other side can actually prove any of it. A lot of it sounds like hearsay. But with Jess against me –’
The phone on Aubrey’s desk rang abruptly.
‘Give me a moment,’ he said, raising a hand. ‘Yes? What? Oh, yes, she is, Merlin. Just one moment.’
He handed the receiver to Harriet.
‘Merlin. There’s a call for you.’
‘You’re busy,’ she said. ‘I can have it transferred to my room.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s all right.’
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Yes, all right, Merlin, put her through, please.’ She put a hand over the mouth of the receiver. ‘This is a coincidence. It’s Val Turner, my instructing solicitor in the case I’m telling you about.’
‘She must be psychic,’ Aubrey smiled.
He turned his attention for a moment to the document he had been reading when she came in. But the change in her face, as she listened silently, drew his attention back to her. Her complexion turned pale, then white, and then to a terrible grey.
‘I’ll call you back later,’ she whispered, handing the receiver back to him.
He stood.
‘Harriet, what’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
For some time, he thought she had not heard him. She was staring vacantly at the wall above his head.
‘Harriet?’
‘He’s killed her,’ she said eventually.
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘He’s killed her. The husband. He’s killed my client.’
She stood abruptly.
‘I’m sorry, Aubrey. I have to go.’
13
Ben Schroeder threw the bag containing his robes on to the floor in the corner of the room behind his desk, and sat down wearily. He ran his hands through his hair, and looked through the large sash window out over the Middle Temple gardens. It was a calming sight after the exertions of the day. He had spent much of the afternoon trying to persuade a judge at the Old Bailey that there was some mitigation for his client, who had tried to solve his financial problems by driving the getaway car for two of his mates who had made an unsuccessful attempt to rob a bank using sawn-off shotguns. The judge had disagreed, and the client was now beginning a 12-year stretch, a sentence with which, despite his strenuous efforts to mitigate, Ben wholeheartedly agreed. That did not make the experience any easier when he had gone down to the cells to advise his client that there was no reasonable basis for appeal. It was fair to say that the client had not reacted well to that news.
Ben was a strikingly handsome man in his early thirties, with dark features. He had been a member of chambers for about eight years. As usual, he was immaculately turned out in a dark three-piece suit, a crisp white handkerchief fluted in the top pocket of his jacket and, despite the travails of the day, he somehow still managed to look as fresh as when he had started out first thing in the morning.
His copy of The Times lay on his desk. He picked it up, opened it, and began to search for the daily law report. Just as he found it, Merlin knocked and entered without waiting to be invited. The senior clerk’s usually imperturbable demeanour seemed to have deserted him. He was breathing quickly, as if he had been running, and his cheeks were flushed.
‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a bit of a crisis.’
‘Oh?’
Before Merlin could reply, Jess entered the room with Barratt Davis and Geoff Bourne, the two partners in the firm of Bourne & Davis. Their office was nearby in Essex Street, just outside the Middle Temple, and they were frequent visitors to chambers. Both sent their work in the courts to Two Wessex Buildings. Barratt specialised in criminal law; Geoff dealt with the firm’s civil and family work. Jess had first met Ben when she worked for Bourne & Davis after leaving university and was thinking about her career options. Since then, she and Ben had married, and she was starting her own practice as a barrister. She looked pale. She had been out of court for the day, working on an opinion, and was dressed informally in a brown blouse and grey slacks. Her luminous light brown hair was tied back, held in position by a bright green band. In her flat brown shoes she was shorter than Ben’s six feet two, but not by much. He saw the lack of colour in her cheeks at once, and walked over to meet her.
‘What on earth has happened?’ he asked, hugging her.
Merlin closed the door and gestured all present to sit down.
‘It’s the Lang case, Mr Schroeder, which I have with Miss Farrar,’ Geoff said. ‘The police called this afternoon. It appears that our client, Mr Lang, killed his wife earlier today.’
‘What?’
‘They had been to see the court welfare officer. It seems he stabbed her in the street after the meeting. He’s going to be charged with murder. I don’t know anything more at this stage. I told Barratt, and we both thought we ought to come to chambers immediately. He will need criminal representation now.’
Ben nodded.
‘Yes, I see.’ He paused. ‘Wait a minute. Am I getting mixed up or…? Jess, isn’t the wife represented by…?’
‘By Harriet. Yes.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Ben said. ‘Where is she?’
‘She’s with Mr Smith-Gurney, Mr Schroeder,’ Merlin replied. ‘She’s very distressed, but he has promised to look after her. She won’t be in chambers long. I think he’s arranging for her to spend the night with one of her close friends.’
‘I should see her before she goes,’ Jess said. ‘I hope to God she doesn’t blame me for this.’
‘She could have no possible reason to,’ Ben replied.
‘Even so…’
‘It might be better to leave it, Miss Farrar,’ Merlin suggested. ‘I’m sure she will be back in chambers in a day or two.’
Reluctantly, Jess sank back into her chair.
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‘We still represent Henry in the family proceedings,’ Geoff said. ‘Despite what’s happened, we owe him a duty to safeguard his interests, such as they are. So I will still have a watching brief, as far as the children are concerned. But I’ve asked Barratt to deal with the criminal case. It’s his cup of tea rather than mine.’
‘Obviously,’ Barratt said, ‘we have a difficult situation here, and a very sad one. But we must arrange for Henry to be represented. He will be charged almost immediately, I assume, which means that he will be appearing before the magistrates, perhaps as early as tomorrow or Friday. Ben, I’d like you to represent him.’
‘Yes,’ Ben replied. ‘Would you like Gareth to lead? I’m sure Merlin can give us his dates to avoid for the trial.’
‘Yes, of course, sir,’ Merlin said.
Barratt hesitated.
‘Actually, I want you to do it,’ he said.
Ben and Merlin exchanged glances.
‘You mean, on my own?’
‘With a junior.’
Ben looked again at Merlin, who was looking down, but smiling, his composure having apparently returned.
‘Barratt, that’s very flattering, but I’m a bit young to lead in a murder. I’m still fairly junior in chambers.’
‘I know that. But I think you’re ready, and I have a specific reason for wanting you in this case. I want you to lead Jess.’
Ben smiled. ‘Barratt –’
‘There’s method in my madness. Let me explain. Geoff tells me that Henry trusts Jess implicitly.’
‘Very much so,’ Geoff confirmed.
‘Jess also knows everything there is to know about the family proceedings, and that may be very useful in the criminal trial. So I want her to be involved in his defence.’ He grinned. ‘I take it the Bar doesn’t have some arcane rule that a barrister can’t lead his wife?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Ben replied.
‘Well, I have to ask. God knows, the Bar seems to have every arcane rule imaginable, and then a few. Are you all right with it, Merlin?’
‘It’s not really for me to say, sir,’ Merlin replied. ‘Choice of counsel is up to you. But since you ask, I would have every confidence in Mr Schroeder, and I am quite sure that Mr Morgan-Davies, as Head of Chambers, would agree.’
‘Good,’ Barratt said. ‘Then it’s settled. Geoff tells me that the officer in charge is a DI Webb. I’m going back to the office now to try to contact him, and see what I can find out. In the meanwhile, Jess and Geoff can fill you in about anything you need to know about the family proceedings. Merlin, could you book this in as a conference?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
As Merlin and Barratt left the room, Jess caught a glimpse of Harriet, on her way out of chambers with Aubrey.
She stood and walked quickly out into the corridor.
‘Harriet, I’m so sorry this has happened.’
Harriet did not reply. Jess approached, and put her arms around her. They held each other for some time.
‘I’ll be all right,’ Harriet said.
‘I know. But this is so horrible.’
‘Let’s talk in a few days.’
Jess kissed her cheek as she walked away.
14
Friday 30 April 1971
‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice, Mr Pilkington,’ Webb said, offering his hand. ‘I am DI Webb, and this is my colleague DS Raymond.’
‘Good to meet you both.’
They shook hands.
‘We weren’t sure about the protocol,’ Webb said. ‘We wouldn’t normally bother prosecuting counsel at this early stage of a case – particularly when it’s Treasury Counsel at the Old Bailey. I was brought up properly to mind my Ps and Qs. But we’ve got a rather unusual situation on our hands; so I asked my Assistant Chief Constable to see if we could get some urgent advice, and they said you might be able to fit us in. I know you’re busy, and I’m sorry to disturb you.’
‘Don’t worry. That’s what we’re here for,’ Andrew Pilkington said. ‘What seems to be the problem?’
‘Well, sir, there was a murder two days ago, in Bloomsbury. The victim is a woman called Susan Lang. The suspect is her husband, Henry Lang. He had started divorce proceedings against her in the High Court. She had left him, walked out – in February, this was – and she’d taken the children with her, two girls aged seven and five. Henry asked the judge to award him custody of the children. They had a hearing at the law courts about three weeks ago. The judge said the children should stay with the wife for now, but he didn’t make any long-term order and he said it could go either way at the final hearing. He also ordered a welfare officer’s report. So they both went to see the welfare officer on Wednesday, around lunchtime, and apparently it didn’t go entirely to Henry’s satisfaction. They came outside after the meeting, and he stabbed her with a large knife, seven times, all up her front, pubis to breasts. The wounds were fatal, no chance of survival at all. The welfare officer saw it all through her window and called the police.’
Andrew raised his eyebrows and whistled quietly.
‘Not a case for mediation, then?’
‘Apparently not, sir. As it happens, Phil and I were in the vicinity. The murder took place in Dombey Street, and we are based at Holborn nick.’
‘Right on the doorstep,’ Andrew observed.
‘Yes, sir. We were just starting a break, but when the call came in, obviously we rushed back out and we were on the scene within five minutes, tops.’
He paused, reliving the scene.
‘When we get there, Henry’s sitting there on the ground next to Susan, not moving a muscle, not saying a word, still holding the knife, and there’s blood everywhere.’
‘It sounds like a vicious attack.’
‘It’s the worst I’ve ever seen, sir. The pathologist, Dr Wren, thinks any one of the wounds would probably have been fatal in itself, without the others.’
‘And the welfare officer didn’t notice anything amiss during the meeting?’
‘No, sir, and she is positive she didn’t see a knife. She didn’t actually see the knife until the attack was over.’
Webb paused.
‘Susan was actually lying inside a mews entrance off the street, and Henry was sitting across the entrance, blocking access to her. So I had to disarm him immediately. For one thing, the ambulance was on its way from Great Ormond Street, but they couldn’t get to her as things were; and there was a chance he might attack her again. So we approached him from two separate directions – and I had the jitters about it, I don’t mind telling you. If he’d gone for me with the knife…’
‘He won’t say it, sir,’ Raymond said, ‘but it was the bravest thing I’ve seen a police officer do in my time in the job. He should get a medal.’
‘Yes,’ Andrew said. ‘A very brave thing to do.’
Webb shrugged modestly, but his face showed that what they had said had pleased him.
‘All in a day’s work, sir.’
‘Hardly.’
‘I had Phil and a uniformed officer, PC Williams, backing me up. They would have jumped on him if he’d started anything.’
‘We wouldn’t have been in time,’ Raymond said, ‘not if he’d swung at you with the knife.’
‘It was certainly very brave,’ Andrew repeated.
‘Thank you, sir… anyway, now we come to the really interesting part…’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, when I approached him, it was the easiest thing in the world – like taking candy from a baby, as they say. No resistance at all. The knife was just lying in his hand, and I took it off him, just like that. Phil and PC Williams put the cuffs on him and he was nicked. Again, no resistance at all.’
Webb leaned forward in his chair.
‘But the really strange thing i
s that he never said a word to anyone – not to us, not to the duty sergeant, not to anyone. And he still hasn’t.’
‘The Director’s office said he was being treated for trauma-induced shock?’ Andrew asked.
‘Yes, sir. Our police physician, Dr Moynihan, diagnosed it, and Barts confirmed it.’
‘Is he still in hospital?’
‘No, sir. They kept him until this morning, to sort out the immediate physical symptoms, but they said there was no medical reason not to keep him in custody, subject to daily checks by Dr Moynihan. So he’s back with us now.’
‘And he still hasn’t said anything?’
‘Not a word. He hasn’t asked to see his solicitor. He hasn’t even asked us what he’s doing in the nick.’
Andrew got up from his desk and stretched. He thought for some time.
‘Do you have any idea at all what might have driven him to this kind of frenzied attack?’
‘Not really, sir. We’re assuming that it’s tied to the children in some way, but it’s not making sense yet. We’re talking to Susan’s solicitors, but they haven’t been very informative. I think they’re still in shock themselves, to be fair, though I do get the distinct impression that they were starting to worry about the divorce proceedings. Susan might not have come out of it too well in the long run.’
‘Oh? Why do you say that?’
‘Well, sir, Susan had parked her car, a green Morris Minor, a short distance from the welfare officer’s house. When we searched it, we found a cigarette butt containing a mixture of tobacco and cannabis. And in her handbag we found a quantity of white powder containing cocaine, and an address book containing the names of three persons we believe to be involved in dealing hard drugs.’
Andrew raised his eyebrows.
‘How much cocaine? Personal use, or supply?’
‘Just under four grams,’ Webb replied. ‘Not a serious commercial quantity, but on the high side for personal use, at least for someone in her financial situation. I would say personal use plus supply to friends and associates. Decent purity too, around 40 per cent.’