by M. R. Hall
Nelson shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. Prayer counsellors are told to refer anyone they can’t cope with upwards. In Eva’s case that would have been to Pastor Lennox Strong.’
Satisfied, Sullivan sat down with a look that warned her not to trespass off-limits again.
Jenny took Nelson back to the first two weeks in March, but he claimed he knew nothing more than Christine Turnbull. She tried again, but he stuck resolutely to the party line.
‘Can you remember the last time you spoke to her, the phone call on the Sunday evening?’
‘Very well.’
‘Where were you?’
‘At my desk in the church office. The phone rang, it was Eva. I told her that Lennox had just been asking after her. He wanted to go through the running order before the service. She sounded very quiet. She said she was really sorry, but she was too exhausted to come. I asked if she was all right, and she explained that it had been a very long week and she just had to crash out.’
‘Crash out? Are those the words she used?’
‘Yes.’
Jenny picked up the file of documents she had received the previous week from Craven’s solicitors and turned to the section containing the statements DI Goodison’s team had taken in the two days before Craven confessed. She turned to the single sheet containing Nelson’s.
‘You gave a statement to the police on the evening of Monday the 10th. In it you say, “Eva called to say she was too tired to come in. I said we understood and would see her in the morning.” You didn’t say anything to the police about crashing out, or asking how she was. Why didn’t you give them this detail?’
‘I suppose I was still shell-shocked.’
‘You didn’t want to be as helpful as you could? It’s an important detail, Mr Nelson – she didn’t crash out, did she? She opened a bottle of wine when she should have been talking to four thousand people. When someone’s spoken to you for the last time you think back and remember every word, don’t you?’
Rocked, Nelson said, ‘I apologize. That’s all I can put it down to. The shock.’
‘You’re sure you haven’t added this detail to make it sound less ambiguous?’
‘It’s what she said, I swear.’
She looked to the lawyers. ‘Does anyone wish to question this witness?’
There were no takers.
Jenny wrestled with the feeling that there was more, that she had missed something, but reluctantly she was forced to release Nelson from the witness box.
Lennox Strong appeared unsettled as he sat in the chair. The self-assured smile seemed to require a conscious effort. He lacked the inner glow shared by his two colleagues. Jenny decided she must hit him hard and fast.
‘Mr Strong, would you say that in the last six months of her life you were closer to Eva Donaldson than anyone else?’
‘I suppose that’s right,’ he said quietly.
‘You must have spent many hours together working on your book.’
‘We did.’
‘Where did you do that, as a matter of interest?’
‘We’d find a spare office in the church, or the cafe maybe.’
‘Just the two of you?’
‘Yes,’ Strong said, as if he were confident he had nothing to be ashamed of.
‘What kind of things did you talk about aside from the book?’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever came up. All sorts of things.’
‘And she told you she was thinking of entering the ministry, becoming a pastor like you.’
‘Oh, yeah. We talked about that a lot.’
Jenny felt the heat of Annabelle Stern’s predatory eyes.
‘And you discussed her doubts about that as well as her ambition?’
‘Certainly,’ Strong said, with a hint of caution now.
Jenny glanced down at her notes, stealing a moment to calm herself.
‘Did she bring other people’s problems to you also – people in the church?’
‘She did.’
‘Did she ever talk to you about Alan Jacobs?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss confidences,’ Strong said.
‘I’m not asking you to breach any confidences, Mr Strong. I’m simply asking whether she mentioned him.’
Lennox Strong looked at the lawyers, then at his feet.
‘I’d like an answer, please, Mr Strong.’
‘Yes, she mentioned Mr Jacobs.’
‘Thank you. And Freddy Reardon, too?’
‘I think so.’
‘Did they cause her a lot of problems?’
It was Sullivan’s voice that shot back at her. ‘Ma’am, we appear to be drifting a long way off the point again.’
‘I decide what’s relevant in my own court, Mr Sullivan. Sit down.’
‘Ma’am—’
‘No, Mr Sullivan. Sit.’
Sullivan unwillingly gave way.
‘You were about to say . . .’
‘They each had issues,’ Strong said carefully, ‘but they weren’t alone in that.’
‘But you must have known these two particularly well, Mr Strong. When Freddy Reardon was an inpatient at the Conway Unit two years ago, you went there to speak.’
‘I’ve been there a few times, yes.’
‘Was it Alan Jacobs who arranged it?’
‘No. It was an idea that came up in the church – offering pastoral care to troubled kids. I was one of those once.’
‘You were in a prison, not a psychiatric unit.’
‘Often there’s not a lot of difference.’
‘Did either Freddy Reardon or Alan Jacobs cause Eva Donaldson problems, harass her in any way?’
‘No. She never said anything about that.’
‘Would she have done?’
‘I’m sure she would.’
‘Did she talk to you about her money problems?’
There was a pause as Lennox Strong wrestled with his conscience. ‘She mentioned her worries once or twice.’
‘Did you know she had a £15,000 legal bill?’
‘No.’
‘Or that she was trying to sue an adult film company for royalties?’
‘No, ma’am. Eva never mentioned that.’
‘Back in March, did she tell you she was being harassed by someone?’
He shook his head.
‘So there was a whole side to her life you knew nothing about?’
‘I guess so . . .’
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Yes,’ he said, quietly.
‘Mr Strong, are you telling the whole truth? You’re a man who every week asks thousands of people to trust him. I’ve seen you talk: you don’t just tell people you’ve felt the presence of God, you tell them you’ve been snatched from the jaws of hell . . . I find it very hard to believe that a lonely and troubled woman like Eva Donaldson would have kept any secrets from you.’
Lennox Strong sat very still. Annabelle Stern’s piercing gaze bored into him. Jenny waited for his answer, but none came. She let the silence stretch on. Five, then ten seconds passed as the pastor searched deep inside himself.
The moment was broken by the sound of the door opening at the back of the room. Andy Kerr stepped in, flustered from his hurried journey from the Vale. Under his arm he carried a leather document case.
Jenny said, ‘Go back to your seat for a moment, please, Mr Strong. Come forward, Dr Kerr.’
The lawyers exchanged panicked whispers as Andy Kerr and Lennox Strong swapped places. It was Fraser Knight who spoke for them.
‘Ma’am, we’ve had no notice of this witness.’
‘We’re at the same disadvantage, Mr Knight. No more interruptions, please.’ She turned to Dr Kerr and reminded him that he too was still under oath. ‘I understand you have received test results that may be of interest to us.’
‘Possibly,’ Dr Kerr said. He unzipped the document case and brought out several sheets of paper from a file, some of which, Jenny could see, displayed photographs. ‘I was l
ooking for a connection between two different corpses. They are those of Alan Jacobs and Freddy Reardon, who I believe were associates of Miss Donaldson.’
Anticipating Sullivan’s objection, Jenny cut him off. ‘I’m sure the relevance will become clear in a moment, Mr Sullivan. Be patient.’
Her rebuke drew smiles from the jury.
Dr Kerr continued: ‘Mr Reardon had abrasions around his wrists typical of the kind caused by handcuffs, or at least handcuffs the wearer has resisted in some way. He had sought to disguise these injuries with some sort of concealer of the type usually used to cover blemishes on the face. I took a sample of the abraded skin and subjected it to microscopic examination.’ He held up a photograph taken through the lens of the microscope. ‘I found two things: minute flakes of lead-based gloss paint, cream or yellowish in colour, and numerous strands of fibreglass typical of the kind found in roof insulation.’ He indicated several points on the photograph with his finger. ‘What’s the relevance? Well, I’d say there’s a strong chance Reardon was cuffed to something – a railing or a pipe, perhaps – coated with this old gloss paint. Where there’s glass fibre insulation, particles like this will be floating in the air, settling on the skin and being inhaled. Sure enough, there was evidence of similar fibres in the boy’s nasal passages. You’d expect the mucus to clear them in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I’m sure he inhaled them within a day or two of his death.’
Jenny looked over at Lennox Strong. Joel Nelson was trying to say something to him, but he wasn’t listening. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clamped tight shut as if he were battling an acute pain.
Dr Kerr continued, ‘I checked Alan Jacobs’s nasal passages and found the same fibres, only they were present in greater density, suggesting exposure in the hours immediately preceding death.’ He held up another highly magnified photograph. ‘They are a similar length and width as those in Mr Reardon’s body.’ He put the picture aside and lifted up two others. ‘Lastly, I took samples from the mucus membranes in Miss Donaldson’s nasal passages. There was no evidence of glass fibres in her nose, but from the sample I took from high up inside the sinus,’ he nodded towards the photograph in his right hand, ‘there was a significant concentration. That tells me she was exposed on several occasions, but not in the days immediately preceding her death.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘A more detailed examination of the airways would yield further detail, but that’s all I have at the moment.’
‘Where would you find these kinds of fibre?’ Jenny asked.
‘Either in a roof space or somewhere where insulating fibre is being handled – in a building undergoing refurbishment, perhaps.’
Jenny’s mind flooded with strange images: a place where Eva and Freddy and Jacobs had all been, a place where Jacobs had been hours before his death to which Freddy returned a week later, handcuffed.
There was a burst of activity on the lawyers’ benches. Another assistant was dispatched from the hall. Annabelle Stern and Sullivan were locked in frantic consultation.
‘Does anyone have any questions?’ Jenny said.
Sullivan shot to his feet. ‘Ma’am, we request an immediate adjournment to review this evidence and appoint an independent expert.’
‘You don’t need an adjournment to do that, Mr Sullivan. Thank you, Dr Kerr. Unless you have anything more to add, you’re free to go.’
Annabelle Stern tugged on Sullivan’s sleeve and whispered instructions in his ear.
‘Could you come back please, Mr Strong,’ Jenny said.
Sullivan interrupted again. ‘Ma’am, I am instructed to inform you that an application is currently being heard in the High Court to have these proceedings halted. I request an adjournment pending the outcome.’
‘And is this an application made on behalf of your clients, Mr Sullivan?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘Ma’am you may not wish the answer to that to be given in open court.’
So that’s where Ed Prince had disappeared to. How naive of her to think he would have trusted anything to chance. He would be in court right now with the most expensive QC he could buy, who would be persuading a judge that she was barely a notch off certifiable and had spent a lifetime protecting her father, who, as chance would have it, was currently under investigation for suspected child abuse and perhaps even murder. Even if she had given Moreton the time of his life, she doubted if he would have been able to stand in the way of the juggernaut that was careering towards her now.
‘If you get your order, Mr Sullivan,’ Jenny said icily, ‘then, and only then, will this inquiry be required to stop. Until that moment you will do nothing more to obstruct it.’ She turned to Lennox Strong. ‘I’m waiting, Mr Strong.’
Sullivan refused to give way. ‘Mr Strong is not giving any more evidence.’
Jenny snapped. ‘You’re leaving my courtroom now, Mr Sullivan.’ She gestured to Alison. ‘Officer, see this man out.’
Alison looked up in surprise, then made her way across the floor.
‘Ma’am, my clients are entitled to be represented,’ Sullivan objected.
Ignoring him, Jenny said, ‘Mr Strong, you will return to the witness box or go to prison for contempt. What is it to be?’
The young pastor rose from his seat. Joel Nelson snatched at his wrist, but Strong shook him off. ‘Leave me alone, Joel.’
He strode forwards, ignoring Sullivan, who hissed a warning to him as he passed. Annabelle Stern had a phone pressed to each ear.
He sat squarely in the witness chair and seemed to fix his stare on a point on the far distance beyond the confines of the hall.
‘I asked you whether you had told the whole truth, Mr Strong. You have yet to answer.’
‘No, ma’am, I haven’t,’ Strong said, his words coming from the part of his conscience that was winning the raging battle inside him. ‘Some things happened in my church that were nothing to do with me, or with Eva.’
‘Yes?’
Defying the threatening glares coming from Stern, he turned to the jury.
‘Exorcisms. People like my colleague, Joel Nelson, and his friends believe that people’s afflictions are caused by evil spirits that possess them. We’re talking about people with mental illness – depression, anxiety, paranoia, schizophrenia; sick, unhappy people in need of God’s help, but not like that. It was Eva who told me it was happening. They would meet in the prayer rooms at the back of the church, the old part of the building that we’re still fixing up – that’s where those fibres come from, we had rolls of the stuff waiting to go in the roof. Joel and his friends would take them there to drive out the devils, in the little room at the far end where you can’t be heard. It was Freddy who first told Eva about this practice. He was going along with it. He said it was making his voices go away, but it didn’t sit right with her, nor with me.’
‘Did you or Eva witness these exorcisms?’
‘She did. She walked in on them praying over Alan Jacobs. He was crying like a child, she said, begging them to make him clean. She didn’t know what to do – he was there of his own free will, but it’s not the way we would pray for people, telling them they’re possessed by devils. I went to the trustees thinking that as pastor they’d respect my wishes.’ He dipped his head in shame. ‘I was told that Bobby DeMont exorcized homosexual people all the time and that I should be grateful we were doing God’s work. The next day I was called in by Mr Prince, the lawyer. He made me sign a document promising I wouldn’t discuss any church business with anyone outside the organization. If I did, I’d lose my job. Eva held out for a few weeks, but eventually he bullied her into signing too.’
‘When was that?’
‘March. She was furious. She said Michael and Christine were running the church like a cult. I tried to talk her down, tell her we’d sort it out, but she disappeared inside herself. She would hardly talk to me.’
Jenny said, ‘What was going on the night she was killed?’
/> Lennox shook his head. ‘I came into the office about quarter to seven looking for her. Joel was making phone calls saying he didn’t know where anyone was, not Eva, Michael or Christine. We had four thousand people coming and I was the only one of the team who’d showed.’
Annabelle Stern suddenly rose and stepped forward to Sullivan’s vacant seat. She was brandishing her phone. With no trace of emotion, she said: ‘Ma’am, I have to inform you that as of this moment, these proceedings are stayed pending full judicial review. Any attempt on your part to call further evidence will not be lawful.’
All Jenny could do was stare at her and wonder what unearthly hour she had to get up in the mornings to look that perfect.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE ANY MORE, Mrs Cooper.’ Alison spoke quietly, hovering in the doorway to Jenny’s office in Jamaica Street.
‘No,’ Jenny said from under a dark shroud of failure and humiliation.
‘It’s not even as if you wanted it to get this far. It was virtually forced on you.’
‘Yes . . .’ she answered, wishing Alison would leave her alone.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, then. You’re sure you can manage?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Thank you . . . thank you, Mrs Cooper.’ With one last anxious glance in Jenny’s direction Alison closed the door and left the building as swiftly as she could without appearing indecent. If she had been disappointed by the eleventh-hour abortion of their inquest, she had yet to show it. Jenny worked out that she must have been on the phone to her new boyfriend, Martin, within minutes of Annabelle Stern bringing down the guillotine. She’d retouched her makeup even before they had left the empty clubhouse. It was a powerful drug, sex. Observing Alison’s conscience dissolve under its spell, she could begin to understand how people could kill for it.
Jenny looked again at the order issued by Mrs Justice Delaney, a newly appointed judge, who, a little research revealed, had been instructed many times by Ed Prince and Annabelle Stern during her career at the Bar. They had been clever. They had not argued that Jenny had been biased or had mismanaged proceedings: rather they had persuaded the judge that her decision to hold the inquest in the first place was wrong; that she had never possessed any evidence that would begin to displace Craven’s plea of guilty to murder.