A Private and Convenient Place

by Michael G T Stokes

  Everdene adjusted his papers on his lectern. He leant forward as he put his first question.

  ‘It was the view of the police at an early stage of your investigations that the kidnapping of Judge Campion’s wife and child was organised for the benefit of Michael Doyle?’

  ‘It was certainly a consideration,’ he paused briefly, before adding, ‘at an early stage of the investigation.’

  ‘But your initial enquiries proceeded on that basis?’

  ‘Yes. We interviewed both Doyle and Benson. They both denied involvement.’

  ‘But you continued your investigation on that basis?’

  ‘We did not dismiss it out of hand, no. But the fact that Mrs Campion and the child were confined in the cellar of a property owned by Doyle raised questions with me at an early stage.’

  ‘Please tell the jury why?’

  ‘If Doyle organised it, he’d hardly have held the victims somewhere so obviously linked with him.’

  ‘So he was no longer the focus of your investigation.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. If there were a double-cross somewhere along the line, he could still have been involved.’

  ‘But you have found no definite proof?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Indeed, your investigation had floundered until the robbery attempt near Retford?

  Hood shook his head.

  ‘Floundered is too strong a word, sir. It was only after we arrested the would- be robbers and identified Duffy that progress accelerated. The Range Rover used in the Retford offence was the same vehicle used in the kidnapping. We found Mrs Campion’s DNA on a rear seat belt. An attempt had been made to clean the inside of the vehicle but whoever did it missed the underside of the belt. There was also DNA from one of the kidnappers on the child’s teddy bear. That led us to Kelly Maguire after the Retford arrests, although we had some difficulty in identifying her. She refused to say who she was for quite some time.’

  ‘And what led you to intervene in the Retford matter?’

  Hood smiled.

  ‘Information received.’

  ‘I suppose if I were to ask you from whom…?’

  ‘I would instruct him not to answer,’ said the judge, firmly. ‘It is quite irrelevant to the issues in this case. Shall we move on?’

  Everdene nodded in obedience to the judge.

  ‘You were anxious to prove a link between the kidnappers and Julia Hamilton?’

  ‘If the evidence pointed that way, yes. We believed she was still in a relationship with Doyle, despite appearances to the contrary. He was in custody and in no position to organise things on a day to day basis. She was.’

  ‘You interviewed her on two occasions before she was arrested?’

  ‘I did, yes.’

  ‘But you did not seek to her detain her after those interviews?’

  ‘No. She was not arrested and was free to leave at any time. We had insufficient evidence to detain her, until Duffy told us what he did.’

  ‘But you persisted in the investigation of her long before Duffy made his statement?’

  ‘We certainly didn’t rule her out of contention, if that’s what you mean. But I acted at all times within the rules. I am a stickler for keeping to the rules, Mr Everdene, as I think you know.’

  Everdene cleared his throat. This cross-examination was not going as well as he had anticipated. Hood was obviously experienced in giving evidence. He followed the golden rule of simply answering the question.

  ‘And you checked all communications to and from Doyle that were not subject to legal professional privilege and found no link between him and this Defendant after the beginning March of nineteen-ninety-nine?’

  ‘Not that resulted in contact, no.’

  ‘You have also checked all communications between Doyle and the Defendant after she was arrested?’

  ‘We have. There was a single letter informing him of the birth of her son, Michael. That is all. There was no other contact between them.’

  ‘Yes. The defendant called her son Michael?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘He was born on the 29th September 1999.’

  ‘Yes. The Feast of Saint Michael, Saint Raphael, Saint Gabriel and All Angels.’

  Everdene smiled. ‘Thank you, Mr Hood. You anticipated my next question. I can move on. Doyle was not prosecuted in respect of the kidnapping or blackmail?’

  ‘No. We had no evidence he was involved although our suspicions remained.’

  ‘Suspicion is not evidence?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘To suggest he was involved would have been merely speculative?’

  ‘We had no evidence he was involved,’ repeated Hood.

  ‘I want to turn to the question of Joseph Hanlon,’ said Everdene. ‘As he had made himself scarce I was not able to complete my cross-examination of him. You saw him on two occasions I believe at Whitemoor Prison?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Whitemoor is a high security establishment, is it not?’

  ‘Yes. As is Mansfield Shirebrook.’

  ‘But not as secure as perhaps it should have been?’

  Hood smiled.

  ‘So it would seem.’

  ‘He volunteered to give evidence against Julia Hamilton?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘In return for what?’

  Hood hesitated.

  ‘As I understand it, he was promised his parole application would be brought forward but there was no guarantee it would be granted.’

  ‘That would still have meant he would have to serve many more years in custody?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He had recently been diagnosed with type two diabetes?’

  ‘He had. It was fairly well established. Serious enough for him to need insulin injections.’

  ‘But he was never admitted to a hospital for further investigation?’

  ‘No. He was a category ‘A’ prisoner. He would only be transferred to a hospital in the event of a real emergency.’

  ‘It would seem that on Friday, we had a real emergency. His collapse was genuine, was it?’

  ‘According to the doctor who examined him, yes.’

  ‘But he was still not taken to hospital?’

  ‘No. Dr Hutchinson was of the opinion that he had overdosed on insulin. That is what brought on his collapse. He treated him here in the cells. It was not considered necessary to remove him to a hospital.’

  ‘So, it is quite possible this was a deliberate act on his part. A premeditated attempt to be transferred to a hospital where security would inevitably be less stringent than here?’

  Hood paused.

  ‘I suppose the facts will bear that interpretation, yes.’

  ‘Because we have all witnessed very intense security in and around this court building during this trial?’

  ‘We have.’

  ‘With equally stringent measures being taken during the movement of Hanlon to and from the court.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet he somehow managed to escape in dramatic fashion from the prison at Mansfield?’

  ‘He did. Once he was in the prison, he was, of course, the responsibility of the Prison Service.’

  Everdene paused and looked briefly at the jury.

  ‘So, his apparent cooperation with the prosecution of my client could well have been an essential element of his elaborate plan to effect his escape from custody?’

  ‘That is a possibility, I suppose.’

  ‘The facts will bear that interpretation?’

  Hood nodded.

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Finally, Mr Hood. Will you confirm that Julia Hamilton has no convictions or cautions? She is of good character?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She has no c
onvictions or cautions.’

  ‘No further questions.’

  Cronshaw was quickly on his feet.

  ‘That letter,’ he asked, ‘Did it suggest any continuing relationship with Doyle?’

  ‘It did. It suggested they would soon be together again in Paris. I understand that they once spent a holiday there.’

  ‘And Paris is, of course, associated with lovers?’

  Everdene stood up before the chief inspector could answer.

  ‘While I do not dissent from the notion that Paris is associated with lovers, this is essentially a matter of opinion and therefore a comment. After all, my Lord, there are many other places associated with lovers. Venice, Verona, even Brighton, to name but three.’

  ‘And Florence,’ added the judge with a smile. ‘I think we have your point, Mr Everdene.’

  ‘But not Manchester,’ whispered Garrard to Markham-Moore.

  ‘No further questions,’ said Cronshaw. ‘But I think the letter should be produced as an exhibit. I see no reason why the jury should not see it.’

  ‘I have no objection,’ said Everdene, casually, as if it were of no consequence. ‘No objection at all.’

  ‘Are there copies available?’ asked the judge.

  ‘There are my Lord.’

  * * * *

  The afternoon was spent dealing with Julia Hamilton’s interviews with the police. They had been summarised by junior counsel and reduced considerably in length. They hardly progressed the prosecution case. She had, of course, denied everything. A list of admissions was then produced and read to the jury. They included references to the two postcards found amongst Grayling’s possessions. But Cronshaw did not close his case. He asked for leave to wait until the morning, lest there were any developments overnight. The judge then adjourned until Tuesday morning.

  * * * *

  Marcus Beamer knocked on the door of the judge’s chambers. Marcus, of course, was off to the Cheltenham Festival the next day.

  ‘Don’t forget to put my bet on,’ said the judge as he disrobed. ‘I see the odds on See More Business have narrowed?’

  ‘And Looks Like Trouble’s have lengthened.’

  ‘Yes. We should get at least nine to two.’

  ‘I’ll be there early to get the best price. I’m travelling overnight. There’s a nice little B and B I know not far from the course. I stay there every year. But I’ll miss the Defendant going into the witness box. I would really have liked to have been here for that.’

  The judge laughed.

  ‘I think you’ll find Cheltenham more to your liking. And there’s no guarantee she’ll go in the box. I don’t think I would put her in if I were defending. Hanlon going off as he has must have damaged the Crown’s case in the eyes of the jury. My money will be on an acquittal.’

  Marcus disagreed. ‘She’ll go in. I know her type. She won’t be able to resist it. Likes an audience. And that will mean she’ll be cross-examined by Mr Cronshaw. That should be worth seeing.’

  The judge finished disrobing then seemed to hesitate as if he were in two minds whether to say what was troubling him.

  ‘Marcus, that woman who’s suddenly appeared in the public gallery this afternoon. She’s dressed very smartly in a two-piece grey coloured outfit. Has a look of the Defendant, older, of course, but still very presentable? Do you know who she is?’

  ‘That’s probably Julia Hamilton’s mother. She’s been here all the time but she was kept out of court in case she was called as a defence witness. They’re obviously not going to use her now. I can check if you like, but that’s what I heard on the grapevine.’

  ‘If you would, but very discreetly, please. Let me know before you finish for the day. I think I’ve seen her somewhere before.’

  * * * *

  Marcus was back within ten minutes. The judge waited for his clerk to leave the room – he sent him on an errand to the listing officer – before he spoke.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘As I thought, my Lord, she’s Julia Hamilton’s mother. Mr Everdene’s junior confirms they are not calling her. Her maiden name was…’

  The judge interrupted.

  ‘Perry, Margaret Perry.’

  ‘That’s right! Her husband died in ninety-two. Do you know her?’

  ‘I did, briefly. When I was between marriages. I wonder if she recognised me? She lived in Chester for a while back in the early nineties, assuming she’s who I think she is. You’d better ask the two leaders to step in for a moment, if they’re still here.’

  Ten minutes later, both Cronshaw and Everdene were sitting in the judge’s chambers, wondering why they’d been asked to join him. Everdene was concerned that the judge might be considering stopping the trial of his own motion and discharging the jury. That was the last thing he wanted.

  ‘It’s potentially embarrassing,’ disclosed Mr Justice Hornbeam with a sigh. He sounded deadly serious. ‘The defendant’s mother who’s just come into court for the first time this afternoon…’

  Cronshaw and Everdene glanced at each other but said nothing.

  ‘…I believe I used to know her. If she is the person I have in mind, she lived for a time in Chester after her husband died.’

  ‘I believe she did,’ said Everdene. ‘She then moved to Portugal but kept her house in Thrussington and bought a buy-to-let in Leicester. That was intended so her daughter would have somewhere to live in an emergency.’

  ‘Well,’ said the judge after clearing his throat, ‘How shall I put it? I knew her, socially, while she was in Chester, only for about three months. As you say, she was already thinking of a move to Portugal. I even discussed it with her on one occasion.’

  He looked at the two silks.

  ‘I’m in your hands, gentleman. If you think this means I should recuse myself, I will. I can assure you that I never met her daughter, although Margaret Perry – as she called herself – did mention her from time to time. She’d just left college I believe when I knew her mother.’

  Everdene was anxious that the case should go on.

  ‘I cannot see a problem,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s certainly a remarkable coincidence. I’ve never come across it before. But I am no longer calling her mother to give evidence. The Crown will admit what I need to put before the jury about the fifteenth of March. And this case will be decided by the jury, as your Lordship has already told them, not by you.’

  Cronshaw was more thoughtful. He did not respond immediately.

  ‘Could I be so bold as to enquire what happened between the two of you that terminated your, eh, relationship?’

  The judge smiled.

  ‘Usual problem,’ he admitted. ‘She discovered I was seeing someone else at the same time. My present wife, as it turned out. She was not very happy about it and gave me my marching orders. I never heard from her again. She was pretty ruthless about it. I suspect her daughter has a similar temperament.’

  Cronshaw relaxed.

  ‘Like Edwin says, as she’s not going to be a witness, providing this is noted on the record – and I don’t mean in open court – it shouldn’t be a problem. It was very proper of your Lordship to disclose it.’

  ‘If I’d known of the connection of course, I would never have agreed to take the case. But I never knew her married name. She never spoke of her late husband other than to say how much they enjoyed their visits to Portugal.’

  ‘From what I know, they didn’t get on particularly well,’ said Everdene. ‘That’s probably why she reverted to her maiden name. Curious that she’s gone back to Hamilton now, especially as I believe she’s remarried.’

  The judge did not respond. He was obviously greatly relieved.

  ‘I don’t suppose you ever had a motorcycle?’ asked Cronshaw with a grin, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Never,’ said the judge. He wa
s now in much better humour. ‘My mother had a cousin killed in a motorcycle accident. She was always against any of her children having one. And as far as I know, Margaret Perry never had one either, although we have heard that her husband did.’ He paused. There was a note of panic in his voice. ‘Good Lord, you don’t think she took Hamilton to Hastings? That might well have an impact on my decision.’

  The two silks smiled.

  ‘No,’ assured Everdene. ‘We know she didn’t. The admissions I shall be reading out as part of the defence case make that quite clear. Hamilton’s mother flew out to Lisbon on the fifteenth at around two pm and we know that the defendant was still in Derby at the time the flight took off.’

  The judge looked relieved. ‘Good. I’m glad that’s been sorted. It would have been a pity to have had to discharge this jury. They seem to be taking a keen interest in the case.’

  ‘Would you Lordship prefer it if I asked the defendant’s mother not to come into court again? I can easily think of a reason to keep her out.’

  ‘That is entirely for you to decide. It would not be proper for me to say anything further on the subject.’

  He looked at Cronshaw and smiled. ‘No sign of Hanlon, I suppose?’

  ‘No. I’m pretty sure we won’t be hearing from him again.’

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Elizabeth Duston arrived back at her ground floor flat in Mapperley Park just after six o’clock. She had called in at the supermarket on the way home, then caught a second bus which dropped her off on the Mansfield Road a good ten- minute walk from her home. She did not own a motor car and could not afford a taxi. She climbed the steps to her front door then inserted her key into the lock. The wind rustled through the privet hedge that bounded the small lawn in front of the large Edwardian house. Was that a footstep she heard behind her? She quickly turned and looked but saw no-one. After opening the door, she picked up her bags and entered her flat, closing and bolting the door behind her and carefully placing the security chain in position. Her cat stroked himself against her legs, his usual way of welcoming her home. He then marched into the kitchen demanding to be fed.

  ‘You’ll have wait, Oscar,’ she said. ‘I have to put these things away first.’