Find Them Dead

by Peter James

  80

  Wednesday 22 May

  As they were getting ready to file into the court, Harold Trout, right in front of Meg, suddenly stopped, holding back for a second. He pointed at the back of DeWinter’s bleached blond head and leaned over to whisper in her ear. ‘If that man’s IQ was any lower, we’d have to water him every day.’

  She smiled and rolled her eyes. They entered the court and took their seats. The judge, already seated, addressed the jurors. ‘As you heard, a new, last-minute witness for the prosecution has just come forward. It looks likely that this trial will now go into a third week and I realize this will be an inconvenience to some of you. But I’m sure you all appreciate the gravity of the allegations against the defendant and I’m asking you to please understand the need for this extra time in the interests of giving the defendant a fair trial.’

  He nodded to Cork. ‘Please proceed.’

  ‘I now call my next witness,’ the prosecutor said.

  Meg watched a pugilistic-looking man in his forties, escorted by a security officer, make his way through the well of the court and into the witness box. He had a misshapen nose, gold ear stud and wore a battered leather jacket over a denim shirt and jeans. He had an awkward swing of his right arm.

  ‘Please state your name,’ the clerk asked.

  ‘Michael Starr,’ he said, nervously but clearly, then took the oath on the Bible.

  ‘Is it correct, Mr Starr, that you have pleaded guilty to all the counts that the defendant is currently being tried for before this court?’ Cork asked.

  ‘Yes, at the first opportunity.’

  ‘Mr Starr,’ Cork asked him in a friendly, gentle tone, ‘is it true you have made a full statement admitting your guilt and giving details of your criminal activities over the last fifteen years to the police?’

  ‘Yes, the other day.’

  ‘Do you know a man called Terence Gready?’

  ‘Yes, I do. He is sitting over there,’ Starr said, pointing at the defendant in the dock.

  Cork continued. ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘About eighteen years.’

  Meg watched Gready. He was staring ahead, impassively. Then suddenly he glanced fleetingly at the jury – at her. Making eye contact with her, holding it for a moment too long.

  Meg’s mind was in turmoil. She was already convinced of his guilt, and that Harold Trout was right. How many thousands of lives had been ruined by the drugs Gready had supplied? Yet here she was fighting for him to walk out of this court a free man.

  The more evidence she heard against him, the more her hopes were fading of an acquittal. Sure, they’d not yet heard any defence witnesses and maybe his legal team was going to pull a rabbit out of a hat. But on what she’d heard so far it wasn’t looking good for Gready. Which meant she was going to have her work cut out with the jury.

  No question Harold Trout would be voting guilty. He was the only one she was absolutely certain would, at this stage. Hugo seemed to be genially disposed towards the defendant. She was increasingly convinced he was the one who was her friend, but she dared not approach him to ask.

  Toby DeWinter was a wild card. Highly opinionated, so far he had not liked any of the prosecution witnesses, nor the prosecutor himself. But he did seem to like her. With him and Hugo on-side, she had enough to prevent a ‘guilty’ verdict. But a hung jury would simply mean a retrial.

  ‘Mr Starr, have you and the defendant ever met?’ Cork asked.

  ‘Yes, we have.’

  ‘And what was the occasion?’

  ‘The first time was about eighteen years ago; I had been arrested on a charge of possession and dealing in cannabis. My then brief introduced me over the phone and Terry – Terence – said he could get me acquitted.’

  ‘Really? And what happened?’

  ‘He succeeded.’

  ‘So he acted for you then?’

  ‘No, not in any official capacity.’

  Cork looked, theatrically, at the jury. ‘Not in any official capacity? Can you explain what you mean by that?’

  ‘Not really, no – he wasn’t my solicitor. But suddenly my appeal was successful, and it was Mr Gready, I was told, who was responsible for securing it.’

  Cork continued looking at the jury, making eye contact with some of them pointedly. Meg felt the glimmer of humour in his expression as her eyes met his.

  ‘Were you grateful to Mr Gready at the time?’

  ‘I was, yes. Very.’

  Cork nodded. ‘And did you repay this gratitude?’

  ‘I did, yes.’

  Meg glanced at Gready. He was staring rigidly ahead, his face betraying no emotion.

  ‘Can you tell us how, exactly?’ The prosecutor’s eyes danced over each juror, as if to say, Watch and listen, you are in for a treat!

  ‘I’ve worked for him ever since.’

  Cork paused for a long time to let this sink in for everyone in the court. Sounding quite astonished, he said, with considerable emphasis, ‘You have worked for him ever since? For how many years, exactly?’

  ‘For fifteen or sixteen years now.’

  ‘And in what capacity have you been working for him?’

  ‘He owns a classic car dealership, which he uses as a front for importing drugs into England in high-value classic sports cars.’

  Cork counted to five to let this bombshell sink in too. ‘Such as the dubious Ferrari you were bringing into Newhaven Port in November last year?’

  Primrose Brown sprang to her feet. ‘Your Honour, this is not admissible evidence.’

  Richard Jupp spoke up. ‘I don’t agree.’ He turned back to Cork. ‘Continue with your witness.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Honour.’ Cork addressed Starr once again. ‘Between the time when you believe the defendant was instrumental in winning your appeal and the present time, can you tell us the nature of your involvement with this business?’

  ‘I have been its General Manager since 2004.’

  ‘And what has that involved?’

  Cork’s expression, thought Meg, was almost unbearably smug.

  ‘Well, basically, running it.’

  ‘You and how many other employees?’

  ‘Just me, mostly. We do have a couple of part-time workers and a full-time mechanic. Most mechanical work and cleaning I farmed out to independent contractors, as well as bookkeeping and secretarial services.’

  ‘So what have been your duties in this role of General Manager?’

  ‘I’ve been responsible for the regular purchase and resale of various classic sports cars, often selling them at a loss, to provide turnover and to give the impression of this being a legitimate business. I have also from time to time taken in high-value cars for clients, putting them on display to try to sell them on their behalf.’

  ‘So, during your time as General Manager of LH Classics, would you consider yourself to have become something of an expert in classic sports cars, Mr Starr?’

  He smiled. ‘You could say that.’

  Cork paused, nodding with a profound air. ‘With all of these years of trading in what you describe as classic sports cars, have you learned to identify those that are real and those that are fakes?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Playing to the jury again, Cork said, ‘And I would imagine your customers would hope so, too?’

  Again, Starr smiled. ‘Trust is very important.’

  ‘Indeed, so I can imagine. Tell me, what is the most expensive car that LH Classics has sold in your time there?’

  ‘Last year we sold a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT, Short Wheelbase for eight point five million pounds.’

  ‘And you made a nice profit on that?’

  ‘We take a ten per cent premium on any car we sell for a client.’

  ‘I’m not a brilliant mathematician,’ Cork said. ‘Eight hundred and fifty thousand pounds profit?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And is that less profitable than the importation of drugs?’

 
‘Of course it is,’ Starr replied.

  ‘Mr Starr,’ the prosecutor continued, ‘this 1961 Ferrari – were you certain it was genuine?’

  ‘I was, yes. We had its full history and were satisfied with its provenance. I have to say that the sale of that car was an exception, we didn’t make anywhere near that sort of money on the majority of the cars that went through the business.’

  ‘So, with your expertise, you would have been able to distinguish this venerable Ferrari from the fake that you transported into Newhaven on November 26th last year?’

  ‘Yes, without doubt.’

  ‘How are you able to be so certain?’

  ‘Because I was charged with overseeing the construction of the fake Ferrari I brought into Newhaven,’ he replied.

  ‘On whose instructions were you doing this?’

  Starr pointed at the dock. ‘On his, my boss’s.’

  Cork paused again to let this sink in. ‘So, just to be clear, the defendant instructed you to oversee the construction, in Düsseldorf, Germany, of a fake Ferrari?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For what purpose? Was it to dupe a potential buyer?’

  ‘No, it was to bring in drugs to England concealed in the vehicle. In the belief that it wouldn’t be questioned by Customs.’

  ‘What led to such a belief?’

  ‘We’d got away with it before.’

  ‘Can you explain what you mean by that?’

  Starr nodded. ‘To begin with we restored genuine cars and constructed replicas which we sold on. It was a good way of money laundering. Five years ago we moved into drug importation ourselves, and since that time we have packed those replica imports with drugs from our workshop in Germany.’

  ‘Always on the instruction of the defendant?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And what did you do with these cars once they arrived at your premises?’

  ‘I removed the drugs, then arranged the sales of the vehicles.’

  ‘You had accomplices?’

  ‘I worked alone. None of the mechanics were aware of what I was actually doing.’

  ‘We won’t delve into the other employees of LH Classics for now. What do you estimate was the street value of the average shipment of Class-A drugs that came into this country concealed in these fake cars?’

  Starr shook his head. ‘Hard to say. I would estimate around three million pounds for the first one and then between five and six million for all the others, including the Ferrari.’

  ‘Can you confirm how many times a year you would have brought these shipments in?’

  Starr shrugged. ‘As I said, we started five years ago. The one I got caught with was the fifth time we’d done it.’

  Cork feigned astonishment. ‘Five times – and four with approximately five million pounds of drugs each time? Over twenty million pounds’ worth of Class-A drugs in five years? Quite a sum, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, if you put it like that.’

  ‘Is there some other way I should put it?’

  Starr blushed, and said nothing.

  ‘Mr Starr, what I would like to establish is the true nature of your work for the defendant. Was it to sell cars or was there some other – perhaps nefarious – work that you carried out?’

  ‘I suppose you could say I was his courier and general fixer.’

  ‘Courier and general fixer?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve worked as a courier for him, regularly bringing in drugs from continental Europe, mostly on yachts and small planes. I also distributed his drugs within the UK. I’m not proud of it, but I’d had to look after my kid brother who had Down’s Syndrome. I did it to try to pay for a decent life for him. To ensure he had a decent home. So I could take him on trips, like to Florida, to Disneyworld. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I’d made a promise to our mum that I would always take care of him.’

  Cork was still looking at the jury with the conviction of a man who knows he has them with him. ‘Mr Starr, you are a man whom the defendant has been claiming he has never met. Yet you say you worked as both General Manager for a company owned by him and as a courier and general fixer for him. Can you recall the last time you did meet?’

  ‘Yes, it was sometime before November 26th of last year.’

  ‘Might it have been Wednesday November 21st?’

  Starr paused. ‘It might have been. If we was allowed our phones, I could tell you.’

  There was a small ripple of smiles at his reply, before the court became deadly serious again.

  ‘Are you certain he knew it was you, yourself, who was acting in the roles of General Manager, and courier and fixer?’

  There was a brief silence in which the entire court could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

  ‘Well, how could he not have, he’s known me all these years?’

  Cork paused. ‘Mr Starr, you have yourself pleaded guilty to all six counts that Gready faces – are you aware that you face a long prison sentence for your part?’

  ‘Yes, I am aware.’

  ‘Can you fully describe the nature of your relationship with the defendant? And expand on your other responsibilities?’

  ‘I would say I was his lieutenant.’

  ‘Lieutenant?’ Cork repeated.

  ‘Yes, I acted for him as his eyes, ears and authority. Whilst he remained out of sight, to the whole world a good and dutiful citizen, running his law practice, I was the person both bringing in the majority of his drugs and running his county lines empire for him.’

  All pleasant and calm, Cork asked him, ‘Can you tell this court just what your duties entailed – and could I ask you also to explain to the court just what exactly the extent of this so-called county lines empire was – and how it operated?’

  Mickey Starr spent some time giving chapter and verse on Terence Gready’s operation.

  Cork then said, ‘In summary, Mr Starr, you have told the court that you were actively involved not only in a conspiracy to import drugs but also to distribute them, and your actions have been driven by the defendant Terence Gready.’

  ‘That is correct, sir.’

  It was nearly 3 p.m. when a clearly dispirited Primrose Brown stood up to cross-examine the witness.

  ‘Mr Starr, you are lying, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘You are trying to reduce your sentence, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s not true, he was my boss.’

  ‘Well, let’s talk about the truth for a moment, shall we? You say that you first met my client when he intervened in a case when you were starting out on your criminal career, eighteen years ago?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that since then you have been involved in the drugs trade, yes?’

  ‘For him, yes.’

  ‘Please answer the question that is asked. For the past eighteen years you have been involved in the drugs trade, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Making you a seasoned drug trafficker, yes, and this culminated in your arrest at the port with six million pounds’ worth of Class-A drugs concealed in a car?’

  Starr hesitated. ‘Well . . .’

  Brown interjected. ‘Answer the question, please.’

  He replied, ‘Yes.’

  ‘And when cornered, you assaulted a Border Force official, kidnapped an innocent member of the public, stole his car and drove like a maniac on public roads, before being forcibly stopped by police officers. You continued to resist arrest until you were restrained. Mr Starr, you are just making it up as you go along, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’ve told the truth.’

  ‘But you must appreciate, Mr Starr, that the jury simply cannot believe a word you say given your criminal history, can they?’

  ‘Yes, they can.’

  ‘But why, Mr Starr, when you are plainly only turning on my client in the hope that your story will be believed, and you may receive a reduced sentence? You are a drug dealer, who has previously lied to the police, w
ho has been involved in importing drugs for years, without a care in the world about the damage this trade does. As I’ve just said and I will now repeat, the jury cannot believe a word you say, can they?’

  ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  Brown picked up a document from the desk in front of her. ‘Can I show you this statement that was taken from you by one of my team, back in February?’

  She then handed the statement to the usher, who gave it to Starr.

  ‘Did you make this statement?’ Brown asked.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ replied Starr.

  ‘Can you tell the court about its content?’

  ‘I basically say that I have not been involved with Terence Gready in any sort of drug dealing or importation of drugs.’

  ‘That statement is true, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, I was only saying it to help him get off the charges.’

  ‘So you were lying?’

  ‘In that statement I gave to your team, yes, but I’m telling the truth now.’

  ‘How can anyone believe what you say now when you have just admitted lying in a witness statement?’

  ‘The circumstances are different now, I’m telling the truth.’

  Primrose Brown, now she had him on the ropes, spent the next hour challenging the evidence Starr had given, addressing the content of his witness statement and highlighting discrepancies, tormenting him with them.

  When she finally stopped, Starr blurted out, suddenly and emotionally, ‘My brother has been murdered and I strongly believe that this case has something to do with it.’

  Richard Jupp immediately interjected. ‘Mr Starr, I understand that you are grieving for your brother, but this court is neither the time nor the place to make this sort of accusation. Please confine yourself to answering the questions you are asked.’

  Jupp then turned to Ms Brown. ‘Do you have any further questions?’

  ‘No, Your Honour.’

  Cork rose to his feet. ‘Just to be absolutely sure, Mr Starr, you stand by your evidence that you have told the court today, not only about the drugs but also your knowledge that the defendant used the classic car company as a front for his drug dealing?’

  ‘Yes, that is correct.’

  ‘Finally, you spoke about your knowledge of the evidence found at the defendant’s house and in a safety deposit box.’