Chasing Ghosts: A Detective Jack Buchan Novel

by Michael Fowler

  Fabi stopped making notes and said, ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I didn’t stab him if that’s what you mean? I managed to pull myself free and just held it there, waving it at his face. I swore at him and told him to get out. The cheeky bastard just laughed at me again and said that I didn’t know what I was missing and then he left as if nothing had happened.’

  ‘And you said you never told James about this?’ interjected Jack.

  Tammy shook her head. ‘I didn’t know how to tell him. I mean should I mention the flirting bit? I was worried James might think I encouraged him.’

  ‘That’s nonsense Tammy.’ Fabi responded.

  She locked onto Fabi’s eyes. ‘I just keep going through things in my head. Was it my fault? Did I lead him on?’ She started to cry.

  Fabi closed her notebook, left her chair and reached down and touched Tammy’s hands, ‘No you did not. This is Mathew’s fault not yours. He should pay for this.’ Lowering her voice, she added, ‘It’s time to make a statement Tammy.’

  34

  Mathew woke with a jolt. Something had caused it. Confused he quickly scoured the room, holding his breath. Nothing. For a few seconds he lay there listening. He remembered what had happened the last time and he was instantly drawn to the window where the curtains were open and where strong moonlight bled into the room bathing everything in an eerie half-light.

  For a moment he couldn’t move. His stomach emptied and he could feel himself start to panic. He knew he would have to get a hold of himself and took a deep breath. A sharp pain shot through his ribcage like an electric shock reminding him of his busted ribs, making him feel sick. Steadying his breathing he waited for the pain to subside, then gently pulling aside his duvet he slipped out of bed and made for the window, his face close to the glass. The pane instantly misted over – an opaque veil blocked his view. Stepping back, it cleared within seconds, and he started his search of the garden below, swinging his gaze out to the sycamore where his tormentor had appeared previously. A sudden movement caught his eye – something stepped out from behind the trunk into the clearing. It was the spectre again, silhouetted against the moonlight. He stiffened as a bolt of nervous energy travelled through his body. For a moment he held his breath, watching whoever it was stare back at him. Then, he started to shake. He could feel a panic attack coming on and he started to hyperventilate. As light-headedness started to overwhelm him the phone rang behind, making him jump and jerking his thoughts back to the moment. Spinning around to the bedside cabinet he snatched the handset out of its holder, hit the answer button and angrily shouted, ‘What the fuck do you want?’

  For a couple of seconds there was no response. He could feel his heart lurching against his chest. Then, a loud crackling sound buzzed down the line forcing him to pull it away from his ear. He looked at the handset for a moment and then returned it to his ear just as a muffled voice said, ‘You’re gonna get what’s coming to you.’

  35

  In the witness room of Truro Crown Court Jack was sitting at a table drumming a repetitive tattoo on its surface with his fingers. Feelings of anxiousness and frustration were coursing through him and he tried to unfasten the knot that gripped his stomach. He knew why he was in this state. It had taken four months for Mathew Alexander’s case to finally come before the courts and, even though the trial had opened two days ago, the jury still hadn’t been sworn in and open addresses made. The prosecution and defence barristers were still locked in battle with the judge, arguing what evidence could be presented and if witnesses should be provided special measures. Jack hated this part of the judicial system: The legal games defence played at the expense of justice. Yesterday, Defence Counsel had already managed to get the Angel May suicide details thrown out. Jack, together with CPS had argued that this was part of the evidence which should be presented as bad character reference against Mathew but the judge had ruled in favour of the defence and dismissed it. Defence had also tried to get the murder charge dismissed on the grounds that they hadn’t found Carrie’s body and therefore the evidence was circumstantial. Thankfully prosecution had won that one. The defence barrister was now arguing that Tammy’s evidence, with regard to the attack on her, and Mathew’s rape of Pippa should be dealt with as separate issues in a separate trial. Jack prayed to God that this wouldn’t happen. It highlighted just how bad Mathew was and what he was capable of.

  Jack stopped drumming, took a deep breath and drifted his eyes to the far corner of the room where Fabi was in conversation with the female court usher. He couldn’t overhear the conversation going on between them but he could see Fabi laughing. She looks relaxed, he thought, which surprised him. He knew from talking with her that this had been her biggest case to date and yet he had seen her work through it effortlessly – unfazed by its magnitude.

  She’ll make a good detective he thought.

  The door to the courtroom suddenly opened, breaking his thoughts, and he swivelled round. Kate Carty, the prosecution barrister, stepped into the room wearing an expression that was purposeful and business-like.

  Jack rose from his chair. His knees cracked.

  Kate pulled her robes round her and broke into a half-smile. ‘We had a good day today DC Buchan. The judge has ruled in our favour that we can present the evidence of Tammy Callaghan, though he has advised we would have a stronger case if we were to drop the indecency and reduce it to assault, and he has also agreed that Pippa Johnson’s rape should remain as a charge, and in the case of both women he has agreed that they can give evidence behind a screen and he has warned defence about aggressive questioning. So, starting tomorrow we have a trial on our hands.

  36

  For three weeks and two days Jack and Fabi turned up every day to Truro Crown Court, listening to the evidence unfold. Kate Carty’s presentation was clipped and to the point and she even threw in some levity which, Jack saw, pleased the jury. Tammy and Pippa had gone into the witness box and delivered their evidence nervously, but both had stuck to their statements. Pippa, especially, had come over well; the jury had sympathised with her. When she had finished he saw a couple of the female jurors looking towards Mathew in the dock and shoot him daggers.

  The forensic specialist, a man in his late forties, with 23 years' experience, had given a laboured, yet polished performance, explaining carefully how each piece of evidence had been collected, stored and then examined. He presented first the bloodstains found in Mathew’s kitchen, making special emphasis about how bleach had been used in an effort to conceal it. He also talked about how they had discovered a pair of walking boots in a cupboard, covered in dried mud, and how they had also recovered a spade in the boot of Mathew’s car also encrusted in mud, and explained how both had been subjected to particle analysis and it was found that the samples matched those taken from the scene where Carrie’s car had been found. The final part of his testimony was the discovery of small samples of blood close to the burned out mini. Defence argued that forensically they could not prove that the blood belonged to Carrie, because they had no body and so therefore no way of cross-matching. The specialist agreed on this point, but parried that they had taken hair samples from a brush Carrie had used at Mathew’s house and recovered DNA from her toothbrush and these were an identical match to the blood found in Mathew’s kitchen and in Boskenna Wood. The defence barrister had difficulty in hiding his disappointment as he flapped his gown around him, responded with, ‘I have no more questions’ and sat down.

  Then it was Jack’s turn to go into the witness box. As he held up the bible and swore on oath his head was already switching into a higher gear. He had done this dozens and dozens of times, and although the nerves were no longer there in terms of how he delivered his evidence they still existed with regard to the head-to-head with defence counsel. He always tried to tell himself that this was good. It kept him on his toes, though he never enjoyed it. On each and every occasion, whenever he’d walked out of the witness box, whether he had been in for ten m
inutes or several hours, he came away as drained as if he had been in a toe-to-toe fight and with a thundering headache. He knew this was going to be no different.

  And yet, when he stepped out of the box three quarters of an hour later, he was surprised as to how humane the defence barrister had been with him. Though his evidence was not contested – it was all recorded – and though he had an answer for every question, he had constantly been guarded – expecting a counter-punch to be thrown in like a hand grenade – and yet none had come. For the first time, as the judge thanked him and he sat down at the back of the court, he didn’t feel sick and exhausted.

  Mathew didn’t fare the same. Kate Carty was vicious. She never raised her voice or made a personal attack, though the questions she threw at him were as sharp and secure as a nail from a nail-gun. ‘You like throwing your weight around don’t you Mathew?’ she arrowed at him after questioning him as to how he had treated Tammy. When he responded with a ‘no’, that was when she hit him with Pippa’s rape – how he had drugged her and abused her, and how he had threatened her when she had challenged him. That was when Mathew lost his temper.

  Banging his fist against the edge of the box he yelled, ‘I can see what you’re trying to do here.’

  Calmly she said, ‘What’s that Mathew?’

  ‘You’re trying to make out that all this is my fault. That I was to blame for what happened to Tammy and Pippa and therefore I must have done something to Carrie.’

  ‘Well did you?’

  He speared a finger, ‘No I fucking did not.’

  The judge intervened quickly, telling Mathew that if he continued in this manner he would be removed from the court.

  As the judge finished his warning Kate gripped the edges of her lapels, fought back a smirk and then delivered, ‘And now that you’ve raised it let’s talk about Carrie.’

  For the next hour she asked him about his relationship with Carrie. Mathew agreed that it could be volatile at times and that when in drink he did get angry and verbally abusive, though he was adamant he had never assaulted her. Kate pushed him on this and for the first time Mathew broke down in tears.

  ‘I may have done those other things,’ he choked, ‘And I’m sorry. I’m sorry to Tammy and to Pippa. I can see now how it’s affected them. But as God is my judge, I have not killed Carrie.’

  37

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen this is now your time,’ the judge began. Resting on his elbows and entwining his fingers he leaned forward from his high position at the front of the court and looked down at the jury.

  Jack watched him from the back of the courtroom, an anxious energy surging through him. He recollected how yesterday’s hearing had finished with Mathew apologising for what he had done to Tammy and Pippa. And whilst it wasn’t an admission of guilt he saw from the reaction on some of the juror’s faces that they had viewed it as such. Now the judge was doing what he himself had been doing almost every day of this trial – studying each of the juror’s faces.

  The judge continued with his summation, ‘I thank you for your patience. This has not been an easy case. Not easy because, although the defendant has been charged with murder, in this case no body has been found. It has also been complicated by the fact that we have heard very little about what type of person Carrie Jefferies was. We know very little about her life or her background, which is unusual, though we have been told roughly how old she was and that we believe she comes from Australia. But just because we know very little about someone does not mean a person cannot be charged with their murder, because we have heard from each of the witnesses something about the type of person Carrie Jefferies was. And they were able to do that because they have seen her, and they have talked with her and they have shared moments with her, so we know that Carrie Jefferies is indeed a living person and that up until the twenty-sixth of April this year she was very much alive...’ He paused and then said, ‘Until she disappeared that Sunday morning, and since then nothing has been heard from her.’ He went on to talk about the evidence Tammy Callaghan had given prior to Carrie going missing and went on to remind the jury what the forensic specialist had offered up in his findings. Finally, he presented a summation of the other charges of the rape of Pippa and the common assault upon Tammy. Finishing, the judge said, ‘When I release you shortly it will be your job to make a judgement based only on the facts that you have heard in this court. You must not be influenced by outside information and your role is to bring back a decision by which you all agree.’

  ***

  Jack tried to catch the eyes of as many of the jurors as he could as they filed out of the courtroom to see if he could read anything into the looks they displayed which might give away the verdict they favoured. Many of them returned a deadpan expression leaving him with a feeling of frustration.

  He decided to go for a stroll, and he wanted to be alone, so he told Fabi he had something he needed to take care of and that he’d see her after lunch when the courts reconvened. As she headed towards the canteen, he went off into town, deep in thought, mingling among the shoppers and the tourists as they ambled around in the July sunshine. He bought a daily paper from a newsagent’s and grabbed a Cornish pasty from a high street bakers and ate it on the hoof out of its wrapper. Twenty minutes later, as he made his way back to the court house, he could feel a burning sensation erupting in his stomach as the pasty began repeating itself.

  In the foyer of the court building he went through the airport style security check-in and joined Fabi in the witness room. She was sat at a table nursing a compressed cardboard cup of coffee. Looking up she asked, ‘Did you get sorted what you needed to do?’

  He didn’t reply, but nodded and joined her.

  For the next two hours they sat across from one another but didn’t talk. Jack skip-read the newspaper he had bought while Fabi played with her phone. Occasionally Jack looked up to see her scrolling through Facebook, wondering what on earth people got from it. It amazed him how many of the team spent the beginning of the day talking about what they’d seen or shared on the social media site the previous evening. No one talks football anymore. Just as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time in the last two hours the court usher stuck her head around the door.

  ‘They’re back,’ she announced and disappeared.

  Jack glanced at his watch, on this occasion registering the time. 4.15p.m. The jury had only been out for four hours.

  He and Fabi entered the court and took up seats at the back. Jack surveyed the room. It was full. He spotted a couple of local reporters and gave them a weak smile. Jack could feel his stomach churning and this time it wasn’t the pasty.

  Kate Carty, CPS Barrister, turned to them and in a hopeful gesture issued a fingers crossed salute and then returned to face the bench.

  Seconds later the jury room door opened and the twelve members began to slowly file in. As they took their seats Jack found himself scrutinising their faces anew, trying to anticipate the decision they had come to.

  The court usher asked the foreman to rise. It was one of the women. She looked to be in her early fifties, with shoulder-length straight fair hair cut into a fringe. She straightened her dark grey slacks as she rose and then overlapped her hands in front of her.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury have you agreed a verdict on which all of you agree?’ asked the usher.

  ‘We have’

  ‘On the first count, the charge of the murder of Carrie Jefferies, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’

  38

  A rousing applause greeted Jack and Fabi as they entered the CID office at Penzance. Every one of their team was on their feet wearing a beaming smile.

  DI Dick Harrison stepped forward and touched Jack’s arm, ‘Well done. Great job. Twenty-two years’ minimum sentence – that’s a good result.’

  Jack smiled and glanced sideways at Fabi. She wore a pleased but embarrassed look.

  The DI shook Fabi’s hand, ‘There aren’t many trainee dete
ctives get a murder to deal with on their very first case. Congratulations.’ After a brief pause he said, ‘Don’t take your coat off, the first rounds on me.’

  ***

  Standing in the lounge of the pub holding an almost empty beer glass Jack viewed the celebration going on around the room with no emotion. It was the first time he had ever felt like this after a big case and it disturbed him. It was if he watching this from outside the building. He saw Fabi emerge from the bar carrying a fresh beer for him and a glass of white wine for herself. He knew it would be Prosecco. He had already learned it was her favourite tipple.

  She handed him his pint. ‘Did I do well?’

  ‘You did okay, but you’ve still got a fair way to go though.’ Jack watched her smile dissipate and then gave a short laugh, ‘Only joking, put your face back on.’