The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “You didn’t see him kill Shaniqua Curtis?” Lindhurst asked. “Sorry, Miss Mason, perhaps you misunderstood -”

  “I understood the question just fine,” Brandy said defiantly. “I didn’t see him kill her.”

  Lindhurst looked flustered, but only for a moment before he regained his composure. He turned to the judge.

  “Permission to treat this witness as hostile, your honour,” Lindhurst said.

  The judge nodded, and Brandy swallowed hard, her throat going dry.

  “Miss Mason, you’ve just stated under oath that you did not see Troy Banks kill Shaniqua Curtis,” Lindhurst said, his voice malicious now. “Why, in your statement to Detective Patterson, did you accuse him of her murder?”

  “I just told her what she wanted me to,” Brandy stammered, sweat pooling at her back.

  “Did the detective coerce a false confession?” Lindhurst asked. “Because we have your statement. Your interview was taped. You gave the answers freely and without prompt.”

  “I wasn’t forced to, no,” Brandy said, shaking her head. She gulped at the water, spilling some on the back of her hand. “I don’t know why I said it.”

  “The murder weapon you provided to the police,” Lindhurst said. “How did you come to have Shaniqua Curtis’s murder weapon if you did not in fact witness her murder?”

  “Look, I don’t know, I just found it,” Brandy managed.

  “You found it?” Lindhurst asked.

  “Yes, on the estate,” Brandy said.

  “Miss Mason, are you aware of the penalties for perjury?” Lindhurst asked.

  “No,” Brandy admitted.

  “Miss Mason, I will advise you that it is in your best interests to tell the truth,” the judge intervened, looking down at her, making Brandy go weak at the knees.

  “Should we start again, Miss Mason?” Lindhurst asked. “Just one question. Was the information you gave in your original statement a lie, or was that the truth?”

  “It was, erm, it -” Brandy mumbled. She sighed. “It was the truth.”

  “And you saw Troy Banks kill Shaniqua Curtis?” Lindhurst asked.

  “Yes.”

  “No further questions,” Lindhurst said, as if relieved it was over. Brandy’s hand shook as she reached for the glass of water, only to find it empty.

  The defence lawyer swept forwards, and Ms Khan’s eyes glistened with excitement as she approached her. Brandy knew that this was going to be far harder than answering Lindhurst’s questions.

  “Miss Mason,” Khan said, smiling. “Let me start by asking a simple question. What reasons do you have to hate Troy Banks?”

  * * *

  Carl slid the disk into his computer and held his breath as he waited for it to load on his screen. He had made sure Serena had gone on a break before getting the CCTV tape out of his desk drawer. He had made the request without telling her, and he wanted to watch it first to make sure that Asher did not appear on it before he shared it with her.

  His hands shook as he pressed play and the grainy image of the doorway to Bolton Smith’s apartment block flickered onto the screen. It was the time of his death, and Carl skipped forward. A few neighbours came and went.

  An hour after Bolton’s death, Carl paused the tape as a familiar figure arrived at the entrance and let himself in. It was Asher, there was no doubt about it, even with the hood pulled up over his face. Carl had known him, lived with him, long enough to recognize the walk, the shoulders, even the jacket he had on.

  Asher went inside, and Carl watched the grainy images for a few minutes. Asher reappeared through the front doors, a duffel bag in his hand. He glanced around, and then hurried down the street and out of sight of the camera.

  Carl took a deep breath. He glanced over and saw Serena making her way across the office, weaving between desks. He quickly closed the video and slid the disc out. He had just shut it in his drawer when she sat down heavily at her desk across from him.

  He tried to keep himself composed as his mind raced.

  He knew where the money had gone after Bolton’s death, and he knew that it would not be long before he would have to do something about it. The question was what.

  First, he knew, he had to speak to Asher.

  * * *

  “Should I repeat the question, Miss Mason?” Khan asked, squaring her with a challenging look. Brandy swallowed hard. “Do you have any reason to hate Troy Banks?” she asked again pointedly.

  Brandy cleared her throat, wishing she had more water left.

  “No,” she said, but Khan picked up on her hesitation.

  “No?” Khan repeated. “But surely that’s not true, Miss Mason? In the statement you gave to police on the night Troy was arrested, you said that he no longer loved you, did you not?”

  “Well,” Brandy stammered, caught out. “I suppose –”

  “And you had just discovered that Troy was attracted to Aurora Curtis, had you not?” Khan asked. The memory stung Brandy, and it must have shown on her face, because Khan pressed the point. “Your boyfriend, the man you professed to love so much, and he was attracted to a girl you couldn’t stand. It must’ve hurt.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Brandy snapped. “But –”

  “And what better way to get back at him than going to the police with a false statement?” Khan asked, with a glance at the jury. “Especially given your change of story just a moment ago. Was that, perhaps, a guilty conscience?”

  “Objection,” Lindhurst burst out.

  “Sustained,” Judge Harksaw relented. “Disregard that last comment.”

  Khan looked fazed only for a second.

  “Miss Mason,” she went on. “Why did you keep hold of the murder weapon for so long after the event if you intended, as you claim in your statement, to hand it in to help the investigation? Or did you indeed just find it on the estate as you have just claimed?”

  “I don’t know,” Brandy admitted, sweat pooling on her hairline. She felt hot and uncomfortable, and Khan knew it. “It was stupid.”

  “When you kept hold of this knife, did you keep it free from contamination?” Khan asked. At Brandy’s bewildered look, she gave a sharp smile. “By that, I mean, did you ensure that nothing disturbed the evidence it might hold?”

  “I kept it in my room,” Brandy said uncertainly. “It was wrapped in a towel.”

  “A towel?” Khan repeated, with a curt nod. “So is it true to say that the knife was not kept free from things that may have, let’s say, disturbed vital evidence?”

  Brandy felt put out, but she was forced to nod.

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” she conceded. “I didn’t mean to though, it –”

  “In fact, looking at the forensics report,” Khan talked over her, “There were two sets of prints found on the knife; Troy Banks’ fingerprints, and yours. Is it not possible, therefore, to conclude that perhaps it was you holding the knife when Shaniqua Curtis was stabbed?”

  “No, I never –” Brandy protested, indignant, face flushing.

  “In your statement, you said you initiated the dispute with Shaniqua,” Khan persisted, her voice clipped. “You pursued her, and you threatened her. You told the court just moments ago that Troy didn’t kill Shaniqua. Your prints were the only others on the knife.”

  “Troy stabbed her,” Brandy shouted. Khan glared at her, and Judge Harksaw murmured a warning down at her. Brandy shook her head. “I started the argument, and it’s my fault she died. But I didn’t fucking stab her. Troy did. He killed her.”

  Khan looked at her with cold eyes and turned away.

  “That’s a fierce temper you have,” Khan observed, looking at the jury. Brandy swallowed down a response. Khan looked at Judge Harksaw. “No further questions.”

  “You may leave the courtroom,” Judge Harksaw said, looking at Brandy. She felt far from relieved, though she was glad she could go. She wished she could have spoken more freely, could have stood-up to Khan as she had bulldozed her way through questions and
even the suggestion that she had herself had stabbed her. What a load of shit, Brandy thought angrily, as the clerk led her away from the witness box.

  Brandy chanced a quick glance up at the dock, and saw Troy watching her leave with narrowed eyes. There was no love or regret in them, not even hatred. Perhaps it was confusion. Brandy looked away and left the courtroom, feeling deflated and anxious. She had messed it up. She had not kept her word to Aurora or to Keskia, and if they both turned on her, then it was the end for her, she knew it.

  The clerk left her alone in the corridor and Brandy took a deep breath.

  * * *

  Zoe had begun pacing around her flat when there was a knock at the door. She wondered if this was the Banks brothers, come to warn her to keep her mouth shut. She knew the trial must have finished for the day, and she was sure that they must have seen her Facebook status. She knew it had been a mistake to write it, even though she hadn’t really mentioned the trial at all. All she had written was that she was nervous about tomorrow, but she’d regretted it almost at once. If this was the Banks brothers at the door, it was too late to delete it now.

  She opened the door with the latch still on, and sighed with relief. Tamar looked at her, his face full of concern, and she slid the latch off and let him in.

  “I saw your status,” he said, as he led her into the lounge. “I was on my way to Amal’s and thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

  “Thanks,” Zoe said, touched by his words, though Aurora and Shontelle’s advice rang in her ears. He was just using her, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. If he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t have come here to support her like this.

  Tamar sat on the sofa and pulled a pack of beer out of the plastic bag he was carrying. He offered one to Zoe, and she took it, cracking it open and taking a long drink from it.

  “Thought you could maybe do with one,” Tamar said, grinning cheekily.

  Zoe nodded, unsure what to say, what to do, when she was around him. She sat down on the sofa beside him, feeling butterflies in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure whether it was nerves over tomorrow, or being so close to Tamar.

  “You still worried about tomorrow?” he asked. She looked at him, and thought he genuinely cared. Tamar opened his can. “Because if you are, you don’t have to be. You’ll be fine, okay?”

  “Everyone says that,” Zoe sighed, “I just can’t help being so nervous.”

  “I know,” Tamar agreed. “But you’ll be in their maybe an hour, tops. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise you that.”

  “How can you be sure?” Zoe asked, taking another swig.

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Tamar said. His tone was forceful, he meant it.

  Zoe smiled at him, and Tamar shifted on the sofa, edging closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Zoe forgot Shontelle’s warning and leant in to him, feeling reassured by his presence.

  She wanted to ask him why he had not gone to court himself, but she refrained. She didn’t want to be left alone, so she didn’t press the matter with him.

  * * *

  When she walked into her mum’s flat, Aurora went straight to the lounge, smiling when she saw Clint dozing on the sofa, Angel cradled in his arms, both asleep, their expressions peaceful.

  Clint stirred but didn’t open his eyes, and Aurora kissed them both gently on the forehead and retreated to the kitchen, hearing the clink of a glass bottle. Her mum had already poured out a glass of wine when she walked in, closing the door behind her so they wouldn’t disturb Clint and Angel.

  “You sure you want a drink?” Aurora asked.

  Marlena levelled her with a look and lifted the glass to her lips.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I need one after today.”

  Aurora wanted to ask about Brandy’s mum, but she wasn’t sure what the reaction would be. Marlena drained the glass of wine in two long gulps and poured herself another, and Aurora knew it was best to ask before her mum got trashed.

  “Mum, what was that argument about?” Aurora asked. Marlena’s eyes flashed, but she kept quiet, lifting her second glass to her lips. Aurora, only slightly discouraged, pressed on. “You know, the one with Brandy’s mum?”

  “I don’t want to discuss that,” Marlena said. She took a long drink. “It doesn’t concern you, so don’t worry yourself on it.”

  “But I do worry,” Aurora insisted. “You obviously don’t like her.”

  “Right little Miss Marple aren’t you?” Marlena sniggered, shaking her head.

  Aurora thought of Serena’s suggestion that she join the police force, wondering how she could even have considered such a career. She would be a laughing stock.

  “I don’t understand why you hate her so much though,” Aurora said. “I mean, I don’t like Brandy. Maybe I hate her, but –”

  “Good,” Marlena said. She drained her glass and smacked her lips. She stared at Aurora, and she saw anger and fear in her mother’s eyes. “That woman and that thug of a daughter of hers are bad people. Stay away from them.”

  Aurora wanted to ask more, but Marlena turned her back on her, pouring herself another glass of wine, and Aurora knew the conversation was closed. There was no use in trying to get answers, not when her mum was so adamant to put an end to such talk.

  Frustrated, Aurora left the kitchen and went into the lounge, sitting down quietly beside Clint and her daughter, grateful at least that they weren’t troubled.

  * * *

  Brandy leant against the bar and ordered another double-vodka. She had barely made it halfway down the road after leaving court before she had slid inside the nearest pub to get drunk.

  She wanted to forget today, and the vodka was helping her to make a good start on that. Aunt Bo had been frustrated, but she had relented and taken Frazer home. Her mum had come in for a few drinks, then disappeared off with some stranger. Brandy was sure she’d gone to score some drugs, but she didn’t care that much.

  The smug look on Khan’s face seemed etched into her memory and she wanted to get rid of all the images from inside the courtroom; Lindhurst’s fat red face, Khan’s cold eyes, Troy’s look of confusion as she had left. It was the first time she had seen him in months, and she still felt shaken by it.

  She wondered if Keskia had told her sons about Frazer yet, if perhaps even now they were discussing what punishment would befit her for lying about Troy’s son for so long, whether they would try and take him away. She didn’t want her son, but she’d be damned if she was going to let the Banks family have him. Or perhaps Aurora would do it, tell them everything out of revenge for Brandy breaking her promise.

  Brandy downed the vodka and ordered another. She just had to hope that Troy was found guilty, because if he was released, she knew that he would kill her, if his brothers didn’t first.

  * * *

  The van bumped through the streets away from court, but even the feel of the handcuffs around his wrists and the thought of returning to prison could not diminish Troy’s mood. He had not known what to expect from Brandy, but he had been pleased.

  She had wanted to help him, and that had come as a big surprise. She had tried to convince them that he was innocent, and if it had not been for Lindhurst then she would have done it. She had messed it up at the end, but he could put that down to nerves.

  Either way, she had definitely helped him today. The jury could not take anything she said seriously after that fiasco and that could only be positive, he thought.

  His thoughts about Brandy shifted and he could not help but think about her now. He had spent all these months hating her, and now he felt something else. Something more.

  It was true that if it wasn’t for her, he probably would not have even been arrested in the first place, but he would hold all his anger towards Clint and his stuck-up bitch now. Brandy had at least tried to do right by him, in the end.

  He wondered what had prompted it, if she still had f
eelings for him.

  The thought made him smile.

  * * *

  Asher heard keys in the front door and felt his body tense. He did not turn from the kitchen counter as Carl let himself in and approached the kitchen.

  A cupboard door opened and Carl poured himself a drink. He heard the clink of the bottle as it touched the rim of the glass. He turned, surprised. It was not often that Carl needed a drink straight after work.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, the food preparation forgotten.

  Carl gulped at his drink before he answered.

  “Maybe you should tell me,” he suggested. He stared at Asher.

  Asher felt panic flutter in his chest.

  “What do you mean?” he managed, his voice coarse.

  Carl shook his head, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, eyes still fixed on him.

  “Is everything okay?” Carl asked. “Or at least, will it be once this investigation is over?”

  “I don’t understand, what’s -”

  “Will we still be ok?” Carl asked, through gritted teeth. “Or are you going to get sent down for helping hide stolen drug money for a murder victim?”

  Asher knew that the game was up.

  “Carl, I can explain -”

  “It’s true then,” Carl sighed. He knocked back his drink. “There’s CCTV of you going into Bolton’s flat. Did you know that? I’ve seen it. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “It was for Charley,” Asher stammered. “And Bolton was dying, it happened so fast -”

  “And you never thought to mention it to me?” Carl asked. “Didn’t cross your mind to let me know? You must’ve known somebody would find out eventually.”

  “I’m sorry,” Asher said. He took a step forward, towards his boyfriend, but Carl shook his head. He put the glass down heavily on the countertop and retreated from the room.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Ash,” he shook his head.

  With that, Carl was gone. The flat door slammed shut.

  Asher let out a long breath, wondering what Carl would do and if this was the end.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zoe Taylor felt anxious as she woke up, sunlight already creeping through the window though it was still early. Sienna was asleep in her cot, and Zoe slipped out of the bedroom, careful not to wake her daughter or Tamar.