by Nick Oldham
When Stanway had finished his submissions, the CPS solicitor asked for a short adjournment.
‘ We are not going to let those bastards back out on the streets!’ Danny smashed a fist onto the table in the police room at the court. ‘No fucking way.’
‘ Danny, Danny. Calm down,’ Henry tried to cool it. ‘We’ve no intention of doing so, but we’ve got to get the submission to the court correct. If we shout at them, they’ll just let them go.’
She took a deep drag on her cigarette, defying the No Smoking signs.
FB addressed the CPS solicitor. ‘That murder charge stands. We are not going to withdraw it. Understand?’
The man nodded.
‘ And,’ FB went on, ‘we don’t want him to have bail, even with conditions. There’s lots more than just documents to talk to him about, such as that other death in East Lancashire and the controlled drugs found in his home. You’ve really got to lay it on thick.’
‘ Right, right.’ The man scribbled on a pad.
‘ Henry — brief this guy up properly, but don’t forget, we don’t want to give away too much in court.’
The court reconvened.
The CPS solicitor stood up nervously. This was his biggest case so far and he wanted to do well.
‘ Your Worships,’ he began when the three men had settled, ‘the charge of murder will not be withdrawn and neither will the application to keep the defendants in custody for further questioning.’ After he’d said those opening words he relaxed into solicitor mode and delivered the half-truths, half-lies Henry had fed him. ‘In relation to the charge of murder, whilst it cannot be denied that the dead girl was a vital witness, we believe it is only right and proper that these two defendants face and answer the allegations in a court of law. Whilst the witness may be dead, her evidence remains valid. Also, as I speak, scientists are still working on the forensic side of things and fully expect to have evidence which supports and complements the evidence of the dead girl.’ That was — almost — a lie. ‘Secondly, not only do the police wish to interview Gilbert about documents found in his house, but also about many other items which point towards other serious offences, and also the police need to question him about another suspicious death, the details of which I do not wish to divulge in open court as they would prejudice the police investigation. If Gilbert did get bail, there is a real possibility of him absconding. He spends a great deal of his time abroad and we believe he would immediately leave the country, together with his co-accused, Spencer, about whom I have the following, submissions to make…’
Stanway subsequently countered all the prosecution arguments and then the magistrates adjourned to consider the matter over a cup of coffee.
Danny paced the corridor outside the courtroom door. Nerves, like little electric shocks, flickered around her stomach walls.
Henry sat and watched her until he could stand it no longer. He pulled her into an empty witness waiting room. ‘Danny, you’re driving me up the wall!’
‘ Well, I won’t apologise for it. That bastard — those bastards — are going to be out on the streets again. I can feel it. I just know. And we’re powerless to do anything about it.’
‘ Danny, sit down… I said sit.’
Meekly, she obeyed.
Henry sat next to her and tenderly pushed a strand of her hair back from her forehead. ‘You’ve been through a tough time these last few days.’
‘ You don’t know the half of it,’ she snapped.
Henry was hurt by the remark, but kept a cool head. ‘No, I know I don’t. But you need to take a step back from this and get it into perspective. We have done everything and more that’s expected of us. We’ve put away Louis Trent for the rest of his life and we’re on track to sending those two bastards down the corridor behind him. Now, if we don’t succeed, then we’ll have to accept it, okay? Let’s just make sure we do everything right, to the book, and keep a professional head on — just like you told me the other day, remember?’
‘ The book! Those two swines should be shot!’
‘ Maybe so, but they won’t be and that’s life.’ He shrugged. ‘Now, Danny, you are a very caring person. I know it sounds trite and corny, but it’s also true. I want someone on my team like you, but I also want you to be more realistic in your approach. I do know some of the things you’ve been through over the last few days. They’ve been pretty horrific. I know I…’
‘ No, you don’t know. Don’t even try to know.’ Then Danny caught his wounded expression. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Henry.’
‘ It’s all right. All I’m saying, in a pathetic kind of way, is you’re going to have to deal with things one way or another. Try to work out what’ll be best for you. Might just be a chat with a friend, or me, or the Welfare Department, but whatever you do, Danny, deal with it. I speak from experience.’
She gave a wan smile and draped her arms around his neck, touching her forehead onto his, sighing deeply. ‘God, if only you weren’t married…’
‘ Danny, if I wasn’t married, I’d shag you here and now!’
They burst apart, laughing uproariously. ‘And I’d let you.’
The door opened and FB strutted in. ‘And just what the hell are you up to? They’ve been up and dealt with while you’ve been getting all touchy-feely.’
Danny stiffened.
‘ And?’ Henry’s voice was cautious.
FB dug his fist like he was punching some poor sucker in the solar plexus. ‘Stuck it up ‘em!’ he announced jubilantly. ‘Bail refused — three-day lie-down.’
Danny shot off her seat and danced around the room, madly waving her arms up and down, jigging on the spot. Then she astounded FB by throwing her arms round him and placing a big wet kiss on his cheek.
Henry stayed seated, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. Danny’s joy subsided when she pulled away from FB who wiped his cheek distastefully with his pristine clean hankie.
She exchanged a glance with Henry. ‘Now the work really begins.’
Chapter Twenty-one
Two days later there was nothing further the police could do. Having charged Gilbert and Spencer with Claire Lilton’s murder they were not, by law, allowed to question them any further about that matter.
All they had for Gilbert was the material found at his home, which in the grand scheme of things was pretty insignificant. He was questioned at length about the dead girl in East Lancashire, but denied all knowledge when faced with the paltry evidence against him.
Finding two naked runaways in Spencer’s flat meant there were many long conversations with him, but nothing more on the murder front and he denied sexually assaulting Grace.
Forty-eight hours, therefore, failed to produce anything worthwhile.
All the while, Danny and Henry had vague hopes that America might be the key, but nothing happened on that score. Henry phoned Karl Donaldson, who in turn phoned Myrna, who had no further information.
So, two tired detectives, having spent all those hours in each other’s pockets, came to realise they would have to put the defendants back before the court before the three days was up. There was no way they could justify keeping them in police custody any longer. They had to go back to court, hopefully to get the two defendants remanded in custody and then commit the case to Crown Court.
Which is what they did on Monday morning.
And the magistrates went along with them and denied bail.
Stanway was astounded by the decision and immediately stated his intention to appeal against the decision to a High Court Judge in chambers.
Meanwhile, Gilbert and Spencer were transferred, like common criminals, to Risley Remand Centre.
On the next day, Tuesday, at 10 a.m., Stanway appealed to a judge in chambers — a course of action which often resulted in the magistrates’ decision being overturned.
Lancaster Crown Court was in session, presided over by High Court Judge Constance Ellison. At the age of seventy-two she was as quick and nimble in both brain
and body as a forty-year-old, and unlike most other judges her age, she was very much in touch with modern trends and thinking. She would never have to ask who Oasis or The Spice Girls were.
She had scheduled the appeal before the start of the day’s court proceedings and was waiting in her chambers, dressed in full regalia, looking absolutely splendid and very imposing. She sat behind a large, highly polished mahogany desk.
A court usher led in Stanway and his opposite number from the CPS.
‘ Good morning, gentlemen,’ she greeted them. ‘Please be seated. I may have the full kit on, as they say, but let’s not be too formal in here.’ She smiled a warm, pleasant smile.
They both sat, shuffling their papers nervously. Both knew she had a formidable reputation for chewing up and spitting out solicitors and lawyers.
Stanway began…
…And outside in the chilly corridor, Henry and Danny waited tensely for the result.
Half an hour dragged by as slowly as creeping death.
Neither spoke.
Danny sat there unmoving, consumed with her innermost thoughts. Henry, on contrast, fidgeted constantly. Standing up, sitting down, patrolling the corridor. Bored to death by doing nothing.
It was a relief for both when Henry’s pager vibrated against his pelvic bone, summoning him to make a phone call. He wandered away to find the nearest one. Danny was glad to see him go. He was getting on her nerves this time.
He had been gone less than two minutes when the door to the Judge’s chamber creaked open. The usher poked his head out. ‘DI Christie? DS Furness?’ he called enquiringly.
‘ I’m DS Furness.’ Danny stood up.
‘ Where is DI Christie?’
‘ Gone to make a phone call. Why?’
‘ The Judge wants to see you both.’
Over the last few days, since Tracey had disappeared, the operatives of Kruger Investigations had been getting nowhere fast. The streets of Miami had been constantly combed, particularly the areas notable for street hookers and drug abusers.
They drew a blank.
Myrna had got the girl’s last known address from Mark Tapperman; two of her best investigators had visited it, but the place was empty. It looked as though she had done a quick getaway, leaving several items of personal belongings behind.
Myrna called her people off.
There was no guarantee Tracey was even in Miami. She could have been anywhere, or even dead, so Myrna resumed normality — or at least the normality of life without Steve Kruger and a gay husband.
Too much time chasing shadows would have been unproductive for a firm still reeling from its founder’s death. Myrna needed to devote herself to jittery customers.
That was what she did.
She worked from very early each morning until late into the night, calling customers worldwide, chatting, reassuring them in the same way she had done very soon after Kruger’s death. She spent most of her waking hours next to the phone in her office, feeding the fax and writing letters. It was a hell of a task, but needed the personal touch, she believed. She contacted, one way or another, every single customer and supplier, past and present, and the response she got was brilliant. She firmly began to believe that Kruger Investigations had a future, even without Steve, but it had to be driven by her.
And in the early hours of that Tuesday morning, she put the finishing touches to a couple of letters, slotted them into envelopes and dropped them into the out tray.
She was tired, yeah, but it was the fatigue which came through constructive hard work. She blinked the grit out of her eyes and yawned. What to do with the weekend was the question playing on her mind. She was adamant she would take Friday off and make something of it.
The prospect of heading down to the Keys with no particular aim in sight kind of appealed to her. Maybe she’d get the old Thunderbird out — the one her husband had so recklessly bought her a couple of years before, probably in a fit of guilt — and see how that performed.
Mmmm… She closed her eyes, imagined the warm wind in her hair, the straight road, a beachside guesthouse, a drink or two… she was almost asleep at the desk when the phone rang, loud and shrill in the stillness of the morning. She leapt out of her skin and fumbled to answer it.
It was Jake, the security man, down in reception. ‘Sorry t’ bother ya’ll Mizz Rosza, but I knew you wuz in or I woulden a rang…’
‘ It’s okay, Jake. What is it?’
‘ Like, normally, I’da thrown her out on her ear, but she sez she knows ya and wants t’see ya an’ apologise.’
‘ Who does?’
‘ Whazz y’name, gal?’ Myrna heard Jake ask. There was a mutter. ‘Sez she’s a-called Tracey Greenwood. Sez y’ve prob’ly bin lookin’ f’her.’
‘ Put her in the elevator, Jake and send her up.’
Myrna waited for the arrival of the elevator. When the doors opened Tracey was huddled in a foetal ball in one corner, big eyes staring up fearfully at Myrna, thumb in her mouth. She looked dreadful, just like a bunch of rags. Myrna helped her to her feet. She was pathetically light. Brittle.
‘ I’m sorry, I got scared — lost me bottle’ she said with a cough.
‘ Not scared enough to steal my purse, girl,’ Myrna rejoined with a snap.
When Tracey had been seated down in Myrna’s office and given a coffee, Myrna said, ‘You here to stay now?’ She nodded dumbly.
‘ Why the hell did you go off like that?’
‘ Don’t know. I was frightened. I needed a fix too.’
‘ And now you’ve run out of money, I suppose,’ Myrna said scornfully. She did not wait for a response. ‘Are you planning to leave again?’
‘ No.’
‘ In that case, sit there, don’t move. I’ve got a phone call to make.’
From Kruger’s office she dialled Karl Donaldson’s home number, having worked out it was only 8 a.m. in London and there was a chance he was still at home before setting off for work. Donaldson’s wife, Karen, answered. A baby screamed in the background. ‘He’s just about to leave. I’ll get him. Hold on.’
‘ This is Karl Donaldson.’
‘ Karl, she’s back.’
‘ You gonna keep hold of her this time?’
‘ I am.’
‘ Right, good. Call you back soon.’
Donaldson immediately phoned Henry Christie at home but was told he had already left for work. He then rang Blackpool police station to be told he had not yet turned in, but was expected to be in later after attending a special hearing at Lancaster Crown Court. Donaldson asked for a mobile or pager number, but no one could actually put their fingers on one at that moment. Cursing, Donaldson hung up and flipped through his organiser. The number of Henry’s pager was not there either. He knew he had it at work, so he decided to wait until he got there before trying to get hold of Henry.
Meanwhile, Myrna returned to her office, ready to get some answers from young Tracey, the girl who had stolen her credit cards.
‘ Hey, I’ve got some great…’
‘ Come on, Henry,’ Danny waved him urgently back down the corridor. ‘The Judge wants to see us — now!’
‘ Eh? Why?’
‘ How the hell should I know? Come on, hurry up.’ Danny knocked on the chamber door.
‘ Please, please, sit down,’ Mrs Ellison said to them. Two extra chairs had been brought in and placed directly in front of her desk. The two solicitors were sitting apart, on chairs at an angle to the corners of the desk. Henry and Danny sat in between. The Judge peered down her nose at Henry.
‘ Mr Christie — I thought I recognised the name. How are you?’
‘ Your Honour, I’m fine, thank you very much.’
Danny gazed incredulously at him. Stanway almost groaned. The last thing he wanted was for Henry Christie to be on intimate terms with the Judge.
‘ I seem to remember you were in pretty bad shape last time we met — dodging bullets and Mafia hitmen, as I recall.’ She recalled corre
ctly, having presided almost four years before on a very high-profile trial, here at Lancaster Crown Court, in which Henry had been one of the main police witnesses.
‘ I’m well recovered from then, thank you, Ma’ am.’
‘ But still in the wars, I see.’ She chuckled, nodding towards his recent facial injuries.
‘ Trouble follows me everywhere,’ he shrugged modestly.
She gave him a tight smile which indicated the pleasantries were over and business was about to begin. ‘Now, you may be wondering why I’ve asked you both in here,’ she said, gearing smoothly into the meat of the day. ‘The fact is, I’ve listened to these two gentlemen arguing their individual points of view and it seems, overwhelmingly, that I should give the defendant, Gilbert, bail; Spencer, on the other hand will stay in custody. However, I don’t wish to rush any decision if there is a chance of getting more perspectives on it. I was aware you were out there and I believe it only right you should be able to talk to me about the matter.’
‘ Thank you. That’s very thoughtful,’ Henry said.
‘ Before we commence, though, I would like you both to take the oath.’
The usher moved in silently and handed Henry a Bible which he took in his right hand and swore to Almighty God to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Danny did likewise.
‘ Mr Christie, why don’t you want these men to get bail?’
‘ Firstly, they are charged with murder, an offence for which I believe bail should not be granted under any circumstance. Both men are wealthy people with huge liquid assets. I believe that if given bail, both would abscond and by abscond, I mean leave the country.’
‘ I object!’ Stanway interrupted loudly. ‘My clients would be more than happy to surrender their passports.’