‘Shit!’
Tarn switched on the light and the room was instantly bathed in warm radiance. It caught Scarlett by surprise and made her jump. She glanced at the letter. It was on an A5 sheet of lined paper with a serrated edge where it had been torn from a pad. Scarlett wasn’t carrying any protective gloves – she had dressed for court, and not work that morning – so she edged closer to the note and scanned it, leaning over without touching it. The message read:
It is now 19 weeks since I was raped and no matter how much I have tried to put it behind me I feel as though I will never be the person I was before it happened. I re-live the event every night. It won’t go away and there is only one way out I can see to stop all my pain. I’m so sorry for the distress for whoever finds me. If it’s you Rachel I am really sorry – you are the bestest friend I ever had. Thank you for all the hours you have spent listening to me and trying to help. There were times when I felt stronger because of your help, but then the nightmares took me back to square one. Also sorry to my mum. I love you mum. You might not understand but I will be at peace, believe me. Say a pray for me. Tell Detective Macey that I’m sorry as well. Tell her I appreciate everything she’s done for me. I thought I could face my attacker, but I realise I can’t and never will be able to. I just pray James Green gets what’s coming to him even though I won’t be around to see it.
Once again, I’m sorry.
Claudette x
‘Aw Fuck! ’ Scarlett looked down at Claudette. Only her upper body was on display – a duvet covered her lower half. She couldn’t help but notice how painfully thin Claudette was – her ribs were visible and her tawny skin no longer had the lustre she enviously remembered from their first meeting.
Following Green’s arrest, Scarlett had appealed for victims to come forward and Claudette left a message on the incident room number that she wanted to speak to a detective about James Green. Scarlett had called her back and they had arranged to meet somewhere quiet, where Claudette might feel comfortable about opening up. Scarlett and Tarn met her the next day, in a café overlooking the river, and over coffee, after spending some considerable time putting her at ease, they managed to tease out of her details of how she had been raped at knifepoint and now lived in constant fear that she would be killed.
She had brought them here, to the home she shared with her friend, and handed over the clothing she had been wearing during that attack – hidden in a bin-liner beneath her bed. That evidence had been crucial – it had given them his DNA. That had been the easy part. The hard part had been back in the Victim Interview Suite, getting Claudette to repeat everything she had told them and for her to be medically examined by a police doctor. It was a painful experience for Claudette, but Scarlett had recognised the signs; experience told her that Claudette needed regular contact and Scarlett had kept in touch, but at no time during their half a dozen meetings did she get the feeling Claudette was suicidal. In fact, she'd thought Claudette was growing stronger despite her unease about attending court. As Scarlett looked down at the skinny, lifeless body, she felt pangs of guilt and wondered if her phone call yesterday afternoon had been the trigger for this. She wondered how long Claudette had been dead. Turning to Tarn, she said, ‘Fuck, fuck and fucking fuck!’
‘Christ, Scarlett, I never thought she’d do this.’
‘Me neither. Me-fucking-neither.’ Giving Claudette’s corpse one more glance, Scarlett took in a steadying breath and concentrated on her partner. ‘Right we need to call this in. Request the on-call FME and get SOCO here.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll need you to take charge of this scene. I’m going to have to shoot back to court, speak to the barrister and tell her what’s happened. See if we can get an adjournment.’ She held out a hand, ‘I’m going to need your car.’
Tarn threw her an astonished look.
Her partner drove a 3-year-old BMW, which was as always immaculate, and his pride and joy but right now she had no other option. She held out her hand again. ‘Come on, don’t give me that look, I’ll treat it as if it was my own.’
‘You don’t have a car. You ride a motorbike.’
‘So, I’ll be more careful then won’t I? Promise. Now give me your keys. This is not up for debate – I need to get back to court and pronto.’
Four
Scarlett drove back to court with her head in turmoil. An hour and a half ago she was all prepared to go head-to-head with James Green’s defence counsel, determined to make sure that Green was hung out to dry for his crimes. Suddenly everything was in the balance. What a crock of shit.
She made it back to court five minutes before the agreed time, and after hurrying through security sought out Katherine Nicholson. The CPS barrister imbued an air of calm, whereas Scarlett was hot and flustered and still breathing heavily from her dash.
Swallowing hard, Scarlett explained what they’d found.
‘And you think its suicide?’
‘She left a note which indicates she intended to take her own life and we’ve found pills next to her body. We don’t know what they are yet, but they look like prescription tablets.’
‘Oh my. I am sorry.’ The barrister’s face was grim. ‘This is not good news. I don’t just mean about Miss Jackson, but about the trial.’
Scarlett frowned. ‘It’s bloody awful about Claudette, but we can still use her evidence. New rules permit it, don’t they?’
‘They do DS Macey, but in this case I fear her evidence will be not much use.’
‘Not much use?’ Scarlett could feel herself getting uneasy.
‘When I requested the short adjournment with the judge, the defence barrister had to be there, and Mr Skelton QC disclosed Green’s defence is that he had sex with Claudette Jackson in the grounds of Richmond University but it was consensual.’
Katherine Nicholson’s reply brought her up quick. It wasn’t just her words, it was hearing the name of the defence barrister representing James Green. She couldn't stop herself blurting out, ‘Thomas Skelton?’
‘Yes. Do you know him?’
Do I know him! Do I fucking know him! Taking a sharp breath, maintaining her composure, she replied, ‘I’ve come across him.’ That was a lie. She had done more than come across him. Twelve years earlier they’d been lovers. Tom was a year above her when she was studying Law at University and she had instantly fallen for his good looks and charm. She had lost her virginity to Tom and been madly in love with him. She was sleeping with him the night the police told her that her parents had been killed; the night when her entire life changed. She tumbled his name around inside her head. Thomas Skelton QC; her once best friend, her one-time lover, the man she thought she was going to marry and be happy ever after with, was defending scumbag, low-life, serial rapist, James Green. How could he do this to her? The treacherous bastard!
Taking another quick breath and bringing back her thoughts to what Katherine Nicholson had said, she spat out, ‘Consensual! He held a knife to her throat. He threatened to kill her.’
‘We know that, but the jury doesn’t. Green is going to deny it. His defence are going to say that he chatted up Miss Jackson at the bar where she worked and asked her out. We know from Miss Jackson’s testimony some of that is right.’
‘Yes, it is. Green did chat with her on a couple of occasions, and bought her drinks, but when she realised he was hitting on her she ignored him. In fact, she told some friends and pretended to flirt with one of the guys to put him off. It’s my belief he targeted her because of that. Revenge!’
‘You and I both believe that, but it can’t be brought in as evidence. We can only introduce fact. And the facts, which Green’s defence will introduce, are not too far away from Miss Jackson’s testimony. The only difference being she states she was raped at knifepoint and he says the sex was consensual. It’s her word against his and we have no other witnesses.’
‘Then why didn’t he say that when I interviewed him following his arrest?’
‘I’ve raised that point,
and his defence says Green told him that the moment he pushed the undercover detective you had it in for him. That you’d made up your mind he was guilty.’
Scarlett let out an exasperated snort. ‘Rubbish! You’ve seen our interview. Pushed the detective away! DC Ella Bloom was posing as a student in Richmond University grounds and he attacked her. If we hadn’t been close by to arrest him she would have been his next victim.’
‘I’m sure that’s the case, but Green stated DC Bloom propositioned him for sex, and he thought she was a prostitute, which is why he pushed her away. We already decided to not proceed with that charge in light of the evidence.’
‘DC Bloom told it as it happened. She was telling the truth.’
‘I’m sure she was, but we know from recent trials that evidence from undercover officers is fraught with danger unless backed up with some evidence to support it, ie, taped evidence.’
‘We couldn’t get clearance for DC Bloom to wear a wire.’
‘I know how difficult this is for you DS Macey. You know yourself how difficult rape trials are to prosecute, even where we do get witnesses to go into the box to give evidence. Given what’s just happened to Miss Jackson we aren’t in a position to challenge what Green will be saying in his defence.’
‘You’re telling me that we’re not going to go to trial,’ said Scarlett.
‘I’m saying that in light of what’s happened to our witness there is very little prospect of us getting a conviction.’
‘So Green is going to be allowed to go, even though he’s raped three women. And they’re just the ones we know of!’
The barrister looked sad. ‘I will be having a word with the judge, DS Macey, but I already know what his response is going to be once I present this latest information.’
‘There’s nothing you, or we, can do to change this?’
‘I’m genuinely sorry DS Macey, but I firmly believe that now we can no longer corroborate the evidence we have it will not be enough to convict James Green.’
‘So we let a serial rapist walk free?’ Scarlett didn’t wait for the CPS Barrister to answer. Clenching her fists and biting back an oath, she turned and quick-stepped to the exit, doing her best to remain professional despite the fury eating away inside.
Five
Outside the advocates’ robing room Scarlett waited, trying to control her temper. She had been there half an hour. She’d changed her mind about leaving and doubled back into court. Scarlett wanted her moment. The charges against James Green had been formally dropped and the trial judge had released him. Green was downstairs in the cell area awaiting transport back to prison to collect his things before he was freed.
Free to go on the rampage again, she seethed to herself as she leant against the wall.
Scarlett had just taken out her mobile to check the time – conscious that she had left Tarn alone to deal with Claudette’s death – when the door to the robing room opened. Thomas Skelton appeared in the doorway, dressed in an expensive looking charcoal grey pinstripe suit, carrying a briefcase. It had been a good ten years since she had last seen her former lover but she recognised him immediately, even though his once collar length brown hair was now shorter and thinner on top and he had put on some weight, especially around the middle. The change in him was not for the better and the spark to a flame emotion he had so frequently ignited in her back then was no longer there. By the reaction on his face, he recognised her.
‘Scarlett!’ he said.
She sprang forward, slipping her phone back into her jacket pocket. ‘How could you, Tom?’
‘How could I what?’
‘Green.’
He sighed, ‘I didn’t know you were the officer in the case until I’d taken the job.’
His voice was plummy. That was new and it sounded nauseating. She returned, ‘You could have refused it.’
‘His solicitor is a personal friend. He wanted me to take it.’
‘He raped three women. Possibly more!’
‘Allegedly raped three women!’
‘Bullshit!’ She took a deep breath. ‘I thought you were different.’
‘Different?’
‘Different to all the other defence shysters. I thought you had morals’
‘You’ve got your job to do Scarlett and I’ve got mine. You’re making this too personal.’
‘Personal! Personal! ’Course it’s fucking personal. He’s a rapist, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Why don’t you let me buy you a coffee and we put this behind us.’ He added, ‘You look great by the way. Love the hair, suits you. Scarlett by name and Scarlett by hair.’ He laughed at his own joke.
Scarlett took a couple of imperceptible breaths to calm herself down. The anger inside was close to boiling point. He was treating the issue like a mere misdemeanour; she wanted to whack him one for what he had just said. ‘You have got to be joking. I don’t mix with the enemy.’ Through gritted teeth she added, ‘Do you know Tom, I thought I could trust you.’ She jabbed a finger, ‘But you know what? You’re an arsehole just like all the other defence lawyers!’ She was about to turn and leave but before parting she couldn’t resist one final dig, ‘Oh and by the way you don’t look great. You’re fat and bald.’ Before he could respond Scarlett shot him a fiery glare, turned on her heels and stormed off.
Six
By the time Scarlett returned to Claudette’s house, two funeral attendants were wheeling her out of the front door in a body bag on a gurney. She watched them place the body into the back of the blacked-out undertaker’s van and then drive slowly away. Most of the neighbours were out, their faces solemn.
Scarlett fob-locked Tarn’s car, and with heavy heart stepped around Claudette’s parked Nissan Micra and went in through the open front door. Tarn was just coming down the stairs carrying an armful of exhibit bags.
He shot her a surprised look. ‘I didn’t expect to be seeing you so quick. Has it been adjourned for the day?’
‘There’s not going to be a trial. CPS has bottled it. No chance of a conviction they say.’ She knew part of what she said wasn’t true, but it was how she wanted to express her anger at the decision not to prosecute James Green.
Tarn stopped halfway down the stairs. ‘So, what’s happening to Green?’
‘They’ve released him.’
‘Released him?’
Scarlett threw up her hands, ‘He’s getting off Scot free! Raped three fucking women and we can’t present any of the evidence!’
‘I can’t believe it!’
‘You can’t believe it.’ Scarlett shook her head. ‘I feel like fucking shit. That’s just not justice.’ She let off a weighty sigh, ‘But right now there’s nothing we can do about that. Anyway, bring me up to speed with this job. I’ve just seen them taking Claudette’s body away.’
‘The FME’s been. She says there’s no sign of violence on Claudette. The tablets she’s taken are Amitriptylin. They’re for depression, but they also help you sleep.’ He held up one of the see-through plastic evidence bags to reveal a small brown medicine bottle. ‘The name of the pharmacy is on the label so I’m going to get her GP’s name and confirm she was prescribed them.’ He continued his way downstairs. ‘And you’ve only just missed SOCO. They’ve examined the scene and taken quite a few photos. It doesn’t look suspicious. The PM is fixed up for tomorrow, that will confirm if it was an overdose.’
‘What about contacting her family? Didn’t the note mention her mother?’
Tarn nodded. ‘Yeah I’ve recovered her mobile and scrolled through it. I’ve got a number for her mum, and I’ve got Rachel’s number, the girl she shares this house with. I’ve found some paperwork. Her friend’s full name is Rachel Crompton, and the neighbour was right, she does work at Archdeacon Cambridge’s. Are we going to break the news to her?’
‘We’ll need to. From speaking with Claudette, I know they were really good friends. They met at uni and shared student accommodation. When Rachel finished her degree and got her
teaching post she found this place and Claudette decided to rent with her. Rachel’s been supporting her since the rape.’
Tarn nodded, ‘Okay, I’m going to contact her first and break the news and then see if she has an address for Claudette’s mother. I’d rather give her mum the bad news in person than a phone call.’
‘I’d rather we do both personally. Especially because of how good friends she was with Rachel. Come on, we’ll secure the back door as best we can and then drive over to the school where she works.’ Scarlett sighed. ‘I’m certainly going to need a drink by the end of today. I’ve not had a day as bad as this in a long while.’
Seven
Archdeacon Cambridge’s Roman Catholic school was just off The Green at Twickenham. Finding it was easy, parking wasn’t. Tarn left his car in the yellow no parking zone outside school and hoped no warden found it before they had finished their visit. At reception, Scarlett showed her identification and enquired after Rachel Crompton. The female receptionist told her she needed to speak with the Head and picked up the phone. Scarlett heard her say: ‘Two detectives are here. They want to speak with Miss Crompton,’ before hanging up. The young receptionist told them Mrs Harris would be along to see them shortly. No sooner had she finished speaking, when Scarlett heard the clip of heeled shoes behind her and turned to see a slim woman in her early forties making her way towards them. Mrs Harris had shoulder length blonde highlighted curly hair and wore a blue shift dress emblazoned with white and orange orchids. Although not her style, Scarlett admired the dress. They shook hands.
‘You want to speak with Miss Crompton I understand?’
Scarlett nodded.
‘It’s nothing serious I hope? Nothing I should be concerned about?’
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