A Private and Convenient Place

by Michael G T Stokes

  ‘Where do you say Hanlon was?’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t know he was there until after she’d gone and he made himself known.’

  ‘How did he manage that?’

  ‘He got up from the high-backed chair he’d been sitting in at the other side of the room. The one in the photo.’

  The jurors started flipping through the bundle of photographs and maps they had been given.

  ‘That would be photograph twenty-seven, my Lord,’ said Everdene, as the usher handed a bundle to the witness.

  Duffy looked slowly through the photographs until he reached number 27.

  ‘That’s the one, right over the other side of the room.’

  ‘Where was Grayling sitting?’

  ‘On the chair by the fireplace.’ He turned back a few pages in the bundle. ‘You can see it in photograph twenty-two. He had a bed in the room but he’d got out of it to see her. He even put his suit on. You can see the bed on photograph twenty-one.’

  The jurors turned over the pages in their bundles until they found the relevant photographs. Everdene held up his copy of the picture of the high-backed chair.

  ‘Hanlon would have been in a position to hear what was said – from this position, would he?’

  ‘I assume so. You’ll have to ask him. When I came back in, they were in a huddle together. I didn’t hear what they were talking about at first.’

  ‘You went outside?’

  ‘Only as far as the front steps. Gus didn’t want her hanging about the place, so I saw her off the premises.’

  ‘You’d have seen the motorcycle?’

  ‘Some distance away, yes. She walked to where it was waiting for her, a good fifty yards up the drive I would say.’

  ‘Did you recognise the motorcycle?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you recognise the other rider?’

  ‘No. Too far away and they had all the gear on including the helmet. They’d both gone when I left ten minutes later.’

  ‘Man or woman?’

  ‘Couldn’t say. They all look the same in their leathers.’

  ‘And Hanlon was still there – when you left?’

  ‘Yes. He was staying there.’

  ‘But the Retford job wasn’t for several weeks.’

  ‘Him and Gus had other business to discuss.’

  ‘What business?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? I keep telling you. I wasn’t involved in everything. Gus had his own way of doing things and his own contacts.’

  ‘You were the heir apparent, weren’t you? Grayling was dying and he had no family.’

  ‘He had a son, but I think he lives in Australia now. And there was talk of a daughter too. As for his ex-wife, I don’t know what happened to her.’

  ‘You were going to take over his criminal empire?’

  ‘I don’t think so. And if that was the idea, it’s not going to happen now, is it?

  He looked down and shook his head.

  ‘I’m good for nothing now.’

  ‘When you were interviewed by Chief Inspector Hood, you gave the impression that you only learnt of the conversation you say occurred between Grayling and Julia Hamilton after she had gone?’

  Duffy half-smiled and nodded.

  ‘You’ve done your homework, haven’t you?’ He sighed. ‘That was just the way I put it at the time. When I made my witness statement I made it clear that I was there and heard what was said.’

  ‘Why the change?’

  ‘I’d done a deal by then, hadn’t I? I decided to tell the truth.’

  ‘You were not telling Mr Hood the truth before?

  ‘Not until we’d done a deal, no. Not altogether anyway.’

  ‘So the truth to you is not sacrosanct? It depends on what’s in it for you, does it?’

  Duffy sighed.

  ‘I’m telling the truth now.’

  ‘What was the deal?’

  Duffy looked towards the judge.

  ‘Do I have to say, your Honour?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the judge. ‘You must answer counsel’s question.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath before Duffy answered.

  ‘I won’t have to serve more than ten years - assuming I live that long. That’s what they said. There’s a letter somewhere setting it all out, but I’m not even allowed a copy. And I thought all this was supposed to be confidential.’

  He looked around in apparent distress.

  ‘Given the sentences doled out to the others, that sounds like a very good deal.’

  ‘Best I could do in the circumstances.’

  ‘And a real incentive to give the police what they wanted?’

  ‘Mr Hood was quite clear about it. He only wanted the truth.’

  ‘But you knew that Mr Hood was anxious to prove that Doyle and this Defendant were involved in the kidnapping of Mrs Campion, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, that’s his job, isn’t it? Putting away villains.’

  He smirked and glanced at Julia Hamilton in the dock.

  ‘So, in order to get the shortest possible sentence, you gave him what you thought he wanted when you made your witness statement?’

  ‘I told the truth.’

  ‘No, Mr Duffy. You and Grayling acted as you did out of revenge. Revenge against Doyle – because he’d dared to cross you and revenge against Julia Hamilton because she was Doyle’s girlfriend. If you couldn’t get to him, she would have to do. Grayling’s object was to destroy both of them if he could?’

  ‘No. We just let them destroy themselves.’

  ‘The phone call made from the telephone box in Thrussington was a deliberate ploy to implicate Julia Hamilton?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You had discovered she would be in the village that day and sent one of your many associates to make that phone call?’

  ‘No we didn’t. I knew nothing about that phone call until the police asked me about it before I made my second witness statement. Gus mentioned she’d phoned him to arrange the meet, but I don’t know when that was. And another thing, what would be the point of it? We had no idea Gus’s phone was being tapped, so, Mr Everdene, there’d be no point to us doing what you suggested, would there?’

  Cronshaw smiled and made a note in his book, then underlined it. That was a good answer. Everdene was not put off his stride. He continued to put his case.

  ‘Mr Duffy, there was no meet. Julia Hamilton was nowhere near Hastings on the sixteenth of March. This is a charade you created in your effort to continue Grayling’s ambition to destroy Doyle and this Defendant and, of course, to get a huge discount on your sentence.’

  ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘You are someone who is quite prepared to point a loaded gun at an innocent person for money, aren’t you?’

  Duffy shook his head and smiled.

  ‘The robberies I did way back. The guns weren’t even loaded.’

  ‘But the guns used on the Retford job were loaded, weren’t they? One was fired into the back of the security van – by your daughter!’

  Duffy appeared distracted. ‘I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.’

  ‘No. You were at the golf club in South Wales, making sure of your alibi?

  ‘Only being sensible, Mr Everdene. They didn’t need me there did they? I’d probably have got in the way.’

  ‘And you are, in one sense, using a loaded gun here and now in this court to try and implicate this Defendant in a crime you and Grayling devised for your own purposes. A gun loaded with lies?’

  Duffy shook his head and smiled.

  ‘No. I’m telling it as it was.’

  ‘You received a sentence nineteen years shorter than the sentence imposed on Joseph Hanlon, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes I suppose
I did.’

  ‘Fifteen years shorter than the sentences given to Leckie and Kinch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’ve been guaranteed release after serving only half?’

  ‘It’s still a long time.’

  ‘You’re hoping to get a further reduction by giving evidence against this Defendant?’

  Duffy hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t refuse it if it was offered – but it hasn’t been.’

  ‘Put simply, you are prepared to lie in your own interests?’

  ‘That’s what you think, Mr Everdene. I’m telling the truth. She’s the one who’s lying.’

  ‘You said this morning that someone had grassed you up. That’s how you came to be arrested?’

  ‘What if I did?’

  ‘You also stated - and I quote – “you can’t trust nobody these days”.’

  ‘I did.’ Duffy almost snarled his answer.

  ‘You can’t trust a grass, eh, Mr Duffy?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘You include yourself in that category?’

  Before he could answer, Everdene sat down, his cross-examination completed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘What did you think of Duffy?’ asked Hannah Mathews as the jurors made ready to leave at the end of the day’s proceedings.

  ‘He admits he’s told a lot of lies,’ said Miss Duston, quietly, as she completed her notes. ‘But the question is, can he be trusted on the major question in the case?’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Jimmy, who was feeling much better but had rather let the evidence pass over him.

  ‘Whether the defendant was at Grayling’s house in Hastings, of course. She says she wasn’t. So why does Duffy say she was? That will take some thinking about.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult,’ said Paul Green, the university student, who was finding the trial quite fascinating. He’d completed reading War and Peace and was now concentrating on the case. Like Miss Duston, he had made a series of notes which he referred to as he joined the discussion.

  ‘If she’s innocent, Duffy and Grayling have probably put her in it out of revenge, as the defence QC suggested. On the other hand, Duffy may have lied to begin with – when he was trying to make a deal with the police - but why should he lie now? He’s got his reduction in sentence for dropping the others in it, so he could be telling the truth about her.’

  ‘But he can hardly go back on what he said, can he? If he did he might find his sentence being increased,’ said Hannah. ‘Once you start lying it’s very difficult to stop. You have to stick with the story.’

  ‘Can they do that?’ asked Jimmy. ‘You know, increase his sentence.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ answered Miss Duston. She paused. ‘But I’m not sure. It might be possible. Perhaps we’ll be told later.’

  ‘We could always send the judge a note and ask him. He’ll know, won’t he?’ suggested Hannah.

  ‘I think we should wait,’ said Miss Duston, placing her note book into her bag. ‘He hasn’t gone back on what he said – not too much anyway – so it doesn’t really arise. Perhaps we should wait for Hanlon’s evidence tomorrow before we start asking questions. He may say something different.’

  ‘Hanlon sounds like a really nasty piece of work,’ said Jimmy. He’s doing thirty-nine years as well. Can you imagine it? Thirty-nine years! How could anyone cope with that?’

  ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing him – a real gangster. It is exciting though, isn’t it?’ enthused Hannah. ‘Better than the telly!’

  The older man, who had asked everyone to call him Bryan – spelt with a ‘y’ as he repeatedly stated - walked over as he pulled on his coat, then bent down to put on his bicycle clips. He travelled everywhere by bicycle and claimed it kept him fit.

  ‘I can’t see it,’ he said. ‘How can we believe anything he says? He wouldn’t recognise the truth if he fell over it. I reckon this was all down to him and this Grayling fellow. Nothing to do with her at all.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ mused Miss Duston. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’

  Three jurors had nodded as Bryan made his comment. The others had remained silent. It was noticeable that the majority were looking to Miss Duston to take the lead. Several of them had already decided in their own minds that she was the obvious candidate to speak for them.

  The jury bailiff knocked on the door, interrupting their discussion.

  ‘Are we all ready? I’ll see you upstairs. Remember, ten-thirty sharp tomorrow. The judge wants to start on time.’

  He looked at Jimmy.

  ‘I won’t be late tomorrow,’ promised Jimmy. ‘I’m going straight home tonight.’

  ‘See that you do,’ advised the usher. ‘It’s terrible weather out there by the way. It’s been pouring down all afternoon. And don’t forget, as from tomorrow when you arrive you go straight to your room. No going upstairs, the judge doesn’t want you mixing with the other jurors.’

  * * * *

  ‘What did you think of Duffy, Edward?’ asked Cronshaw as he and Markham-Moore removed their wing collars and bands. Everdene was down in the cells taking last minute instructions from his client.

  ‘Could have been worse. Although I’d have preferred it if he hadn’t been quite so cocky as his evidence went on. He was very nervous to begin with but I thought he became a bit over confident towards the end. That being said, he stood up quite well to cross-examination.’

  ‘But did they believe him? I saw a couple of jurors looking very dubious, especially when he was asked about his daughter casing Judge Campion’s home. But that’s always been a weakness in our case. Unless we can somehow turn it to our advantage?’

  ‘I don’t see how at the moment. I noticed you didn’t re-examine about that?’

  ‘I certainly did not. It would only have underlined our anxiety about it. If Kelly Maguire is called by the defence, we’ll see what she says. I also want to hear Hanlon’s account. I’m not at all sure he’ll stick to what he says in his statement. And if Edwin drives a wedge between them, we may be in trouble. Let’s hope the Attorney’s on form.’

  ‘Speaking of which, where is he?’

  Cronshaw smiled.

  ‘I’ve persuaded him to stay in Nottingham tonight. We don’t want a repeat of this morning. He’s booked in at our hotel so it may mean we’ll have to dine with him.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll pick up the tab?’

  Cronshaw grinned.

  ‘Now that is something that will definitely not happen.’

  ‘I haven’t seen the chief inspector today.’

  ‘No, he’s gone to Draycott Heath Prison to make enquiries about the assault on Doyle. I’m concerned about the possible ramifications if Hanlon is in any way involved. There’s no evidence that he is, but I want to cover all our bases, just in case. Tomorrow is going to be a very interesting day.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jimmy Murphy was sitting in the middle compartment of the double-decker bus travelling into the city centre from Top Valley when he felt someone shake his right shoulder. He looked around and recognised the man he’d signed into the Irish Club two nights before.

  ‘Fancy bumping into you,’ said Dudley Manning. ‘I suppose you’re off to court again? Trial still going on is it?’

  Jimmy nodded his head as the bus came to a halt and the woman sitting next to him got up and walked towards the exit doors. Manning quickly moved and sat next to Jimmy.

  ‘Must be very interesting,’ he continued. ‘I’ve been reading about it in the newspaper, but I don’t imagine you get the full story in the papers? You’ll know a lot more about it, I suspect?’

  Jimmy was starting to feel uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to talk about the trial and although he had only a faint recollection of what he’d said to Manning in the Irish Club, he
was concerned that he’d already said too much. He was beginning to wish he’d never met him.

  ‘And you’re one of those who’ll be making the final decision. Very important duty that. I bet it’s really exciting too. They might even make you foreman of the jury. Now wouldn’t that be something?’

  Jimmy didn’t like that suggestion at all. ‘I hope not. I couldn’t handle that. I think Miss Duston should be foreman. She’s keeping a note of everything, I haven’t written anything down yet, so it definitely won’t be me.’

  ‘Which one is she?’ asked Manning, casually.

  ‘Oh, have you been in court then?’

  ‘Only on the first day. There wasn’t room yesterday and they won’t let you in once all the seats are taken. And I’ve got something else on today. So I won’t even be trying to get in.’

  Thank God for that! thought Jimmy. ‘She’s the one who was chosen first. She’s sitting where the foreman usually sits. Mind you. I was on a jury with her last week and she wasn’t keen on being foreman. Someone else did it in the end.’

  ‘Is that right? Well, this is my stop coming up. I might see you in court as they say – but not today.’

  With that, Manning rang the bell and made his way to the front of the bus. He waved at Jimmy as he got off. I hope I don’t see him again, said Jimmy to himself as he sat back in his seat and picked up an abandoned copy of the Daily Mail. There was yet another photograph of Julia Hamilton on the front page. He scrutinised it carefully. Could she really be what the prosecution said she was? A real gangster’s moll? Jimmy couldn’t quite believe it. He glanced at the reporter’s account of the day’s evidence, somewhat exaggerated he thought. He threw the paper down as the bus approached his stop.

  He got off the bus in Parliament Street and made his way towards the court in Canal Street. He was wearing his leather jacket over his suit and a newly ironed white shirt his mother had purchased specially from Marks and Spencer. It was a pleasant enough morning, dry and sunny but still quite cold as he hurried across the Market Square. He walked quickly, his hands in his pockets, overtaking several slower pedestrians and trying his best to avoid those coming in the opposite direction. He waved aside a charity collector and put his head down as he reached the Broadmarsh Centre, avoiding eye contact with the man selling copies of The Big Issue by the entrance. As he passed by the Broadmarsh Bus Station one of the other jurors rushed to catch him up and the two of them walked across the road and headed towards the court together. They passed the front entrance, where TV cameras and reporters were gathered and observed the long queue of spectators hoping to get a seat in court, jostling each other as they pushed through the doors. Jimmy also noticed that several armed police officers were patrolling the pavement. He felt rather important as he and his fellow juror walked past the main entrance, turned the corner into Trent Street and were admitted by a security officer into the car park. Although they were both diligently searched, the officer recognised them and was friendly enough. He directed them towards the side entrance facing the canal that had been re-opened specially for the trial. No queuing for them. As they crossed the car park, a marked police car came through the gates followed by a large van. A police helicopter whirled overhead. Jimmy turned and looked at the van.