‘On the fifteenth, I think. I had the operation during the night. It was considered urgent. I was an emergency admission.’
‘When did you leave hospital?’
‘On the seventeenth. I discharged myself. Adam came and picked me up during the late afternoon.’
‘Why did you discharge yourself?’
‘Boredom. I was fine. I didn’t see any reason for staying. I would have been discharged a couple of days later anyway.
‘Have you ever taken Julia Hamilton anywhere on your motorcycle?’
‘Never.’
‘Ever been to Hastings?’
‘On one occasion, yes. I was with Adam when he visited Grayling, but I stayed in the car. Grayling would not have been happy, apparently, if he’d known I was there.’
‘When was that?’
‘Two Christmases ago. I don’t know why Adam had to go there. He told me it was best if I didn’t ask.’
‘Wait there, please. I’m sure my learned friend will have some questions for you.’
Everdene sat down. Cronshaw did not rush to his feet. He stood up slowly and looked at the witness then at the jury.
‘Tell us, Miss Maguire, why did you fire a shotgun into the back of the security van on the Ollerton Road in May last year?’
The question took her by surprise. She scowled.
‘Because that was the plan. To make the guards realise we were deadly serious. We didn’t know, of course, that it was full of armed police officers.’
‘But you were quite prepared to fire a live cartridge into the rear doors of the van?’
She shrugged her shoulders as if this were an everyday experience.
‘Yes. They’re quite tough those vans, you know. It didn’t do that much damage.’
‘You don’t sound very remorseful?’
She replied angrily.
‘Why should I? I’m doing twenty-four years. I’ll be forty before I can even apply for parole. I think society will have had sufficient payback by then, don’t you?’
She spat the words out.
Cronshaw did not respond. He simply continued questioning her.
‘You met Julia Hamilton in December nineteen ninety-eight didn’t you?’
‘Did I? Where?’
‘In a restaurant in this very city?’
‘In Nottingham? I don’t think so. Which restaurant?’
Cronshaw turned and spoke quietly to his junior then faced the witness.
‘The French Partridge in Parliament Street.’
‘I don’t remember ever going there, although I have heard of it. I believe it’s very expensive – for Nottingham!’
‘Your partner’s brother was a witness in a trial here that December, an alibi witness?’
‘Was he? I know nothing about that.’
‘Weren’t you in that restaurant with him and Adam after the jury had retired to consider its verdict? The person on trial was Bruce Duggan. He later went to prison for nine years having been convicted of robbery.’
‘I still don’t remember anything about it. For all I know, Adam might know him, but I don’t. I must say, he did a lot better than me getting only nine years.’
‘Julia Hamilton came into that restaurant while you were there?’
‘Did she? As I can’t remember ever being there I can’t comment.’
Cronshaw moved on.
‘What happened when Adam Leckie appeared before Judge Campion two or three years ago? You said it was that appearance that prompted a minor change in your plans.’
‘He got a bender. Six months suspended, for an assault.’
‘But you thought it unwise for him to go to Judge Campion’s house unless he was disguised?’
‘If the judge had been there he might have recognised him. Wasn’t worth the risk.’
‘Of course, when you went in to carry out the kidnap you all wore balaclavas?’
‘Yes. We didn’t want to be identified. It seemed like a sensible precaution at the time. The idea was that we shouldn’t be caught.’
Her answers were becoming quite flippant.
‘How long have you been a motorcyclist?’
She looked up as if she were casting her mind back.
‘About five years.’
‘And you presumably know other motorcyclists?’
‘A few, yes. But I’m not a Hell’s Angel or anything like that.’
Cronshaw noted Everdene moving in his seat as if he were about to stand up.
‘You know Maxine Kruger, don’t you?’
The witness paused. She had been warned she was likely to be asked that question, but she was nevertheless slightly taken aback.
‘Maxine Kruger? No. Never heard of her. Who is she?’
Everdene made ready to object. Cronshaw smiled and waved him down.
‘I’m not here to answer your questions Miss Maguire. I suggest you do know her and you do associate with her.’
She leant forward as she replied.
‘I only associate with my fellow prisoners at Foston Hall – with the exception of Julia Hamilton.’ She glared at the dock. ‘She gets special treatment you know. She stays in what used to be the Deputy Governor’s accommodation. She doesn’t mix with the rest of us. Too high and mighty for us she is.’
‘That is in accordance with my instructions, members of the jury,’ said the judge, looking at her over his spectacles. ‘Do continue Mr Cronshaw.’
‘Tell us more about your relationship with Grayling.’
‘I didn’t have a relationship with him. I never saw him in fact. It was Adam who had contact with him.’
‘And how did Adam contact him?’
‘I assume he had his phone number.’
‘Did you know his phone number?’
‘No.’
‘Adam never told you what it was?’
‘I wasn’t interested.’
‘If you’d asked Adam for Grayling’s number, he’d have given it to you, wouldn’t he?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I never asked him.’
‘So you never passed the number on to Julia Hamilton?’
‘I never passed anything on to Julia Hamilton. I didn’t know her.’
Cronshaw asked for the brochure to be produced. It was handed to the witness.
‘Look at the penultimate page, please.’
‘The what?’
‘The next to the last.’
She did as she was asked.
‘Do you see the number written alongside that photograph?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you recognise it?’
She appeared to scrutinise it carefully, turning the brochure to its side so she was better able to see it.
‘It looks like someone’s phone number.’
‘Yes,’ said Cronshaw. ‘It does, doesn’t it? Do you recognise it?’
She shook her head.
‘No, but I’m very bad at remembering phone numbers.’
‘Have you ever seen this, eh, brochure before?’
She closed the page and looked at the front.
‘No. This isn’t anything that would interest me.’
She placed the brochure on the side of the witness box.
‘Please look at that telephone number again.’
With ill grace, she picked up the brochure and turned to the relevant page.
‘Do you recognise the handwriting?’
‘No.’
‘You will observe that the figure seven –which appears twice – is crossed in the continental fashion.’
‘So it is. I don’t write a seven like that.’
‘Do you know anyone who does?’
She paused as if in thought.
‘Yes.’
‘You do?’
A loud murmur went round the courtroom. Everdene looked concerned.
‘Well I don’t know him, of course. But Adam told me that Grayling does – or he did. His wife was Spanish I believe. He must have got it from her.’
She smiled and closed the brochure.
‘I suggest you knew this defendant well before your remand into custody?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘You and she conspired with each other to kidnap Mrs Campion and her son?’
‘You can suggest what you like - it isn’t true. I did what I was told by Adam. I never heard any mention of Julia Hamilton until after I was arrested.’
‘You knew Joseph Hanlon though?’
‘Yes. But he was hardly a friend. I doubt if he has any friends. He was in charge. He was someone you didn’t cross. Even Adam was a bit scared of him and Adam isn’t usually afraid of anyone.’
‘It never occurred to you for one moment to consider why you were doing what you were doing?’
She looked slightly taken aback then shook her head.
‘We were doing it for the money, what else? Why Grayling wanted them kidnapped didn’t matter to us.’
‘But you pleaded guilty to conspiracy to blackmail?’
‘Yes, on the advice of my barrister. I was told it would help on sentence. Not that it did.’
‘And the robbery on the Ollerton road?’
‘That was the big one. If we’d got away with that, we’d have been set up for life.’
‘Yes,’ said Cronshaw, tersely, as he sat down, ‘Instead you were set up for twenty-four years.’
She glared at him.
‘No re-examination my Lord,’ said Everdene. ‘That is the case for the defence.’
Chapter Forty-Four
The rest of the day was taken up with counsel’s closing speeches. Both were of the highest quality, and when the jurors returned to their room, some expressed their concern as to how they were supposed to reach a consensus. Everdene had, it seemed, undermined every point made by the prosecution but there were some who remained more than suspicious of Julia Hamilton’s activities. Bryan was not amongst them.
‘I don’t see how we can be sure that she was involved,’ he said. ‘That last witness was hardly trying to help the defendant. I can’t see Julia having anything to do with the likes of Maguire and Duffy.’
‘Julia, now is it?’ said Paul Green, with a grin.
‘Well we have to call her something,’ replied Bryan. ‘And it is her name. We can’t keep calling her the Defendant.’
Hannah Mathews still felt sorry for Julia’s son.
‘That poor child,’ she said, repeatedly. ‘He should be with his mother.’
It was clear the way her vote would go.
‘Let’s wait until the judge has summed up tomorrow,’ suggested Miss Duston. ‘Things should be much clearer then.’
* * * *
In the robing room, the two silks congratulated each other on their respective speeches.
‘I think you might just have pipped us at the post,’ said Everdene, as he removed his wig and slumped into a convenient chair. He was quite exhausted.
‘I don’t think so,’ re-joined Cronshaw with a smile. ‘Hanlon’s disappearance has done for us, I’m afraid, no matter how I dress it up. The jury were listening to you far too intently from where I was sitting. Some of them think she might be innocent, and once you have one or two doubters, it usually spreads through the rest of the jury like the measles.’
Everdene grinned in appreciation.
‘You’re far too modest, Hal. I got the impression there were a few who didn’t quite trust her. And I can’t say I blame them. There’s something about her that doesn’t quite measure up, if you know what I mean?’
Cronshaw nodded.
‘I agree with you there, but I gave up trying to work out what a jury thinks years ago. What I do know is they usually get it right. We shall just have to wait and see.’
‘I wonder what the judge will make of it?’ asked Markham -Moore. ‘He’s been very neutral so far.’
‘That’s the last thing we need,’ complained Everdene with some emphasis. ‘I’ve never known why it hasn’t caught on more with these criminal judges. Running defendants in is counterproductive. But a really fair summing up…’ He raised his finger and wagged it. ‘Now, that usually results in a conviction, in my limited experience of criminal trials. But I defer to your greater knowledge of such matters.’ He indicated to his junior. ‘Well I suppose we’d better go down and see her. She’ll be wanting to know what we think, no doubt.’
‘I haven’t seen her mother recently,’ said Cronshaw. ‘Have you kept her out of court deliberately?’
Everdene shook his head. ‘No. Felicity arranged for her mother to see her at the prison last night with her son. I’m told she’s flying back to Portugal this afternoon – with the boy.’
‘Not staying for the verdict then?’
‘Apparently not.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps she knows something we don’t?’
With that he stood up and he and Felicity Garrard departed, leaving Cronshaw and his junior alone in the robing room. Neither of them spoke for some time. Then Markham-Moore broke the silence.
‘Look at this place,’ he said, pushing a pile of ancient looking papers into the centre of the table. ‘It’s a tip. Some of this rubbish must have been lying around for months. Barristers are a messy lot.’
Cronshaw looked up and smiled.
‘Are you volunteering to clean the place up?’
Markham-Moore shook his head.
‘None of it is down to us. And I shall ensure that all of our papers get back to the CPS as soon as the verdict is in.’
His leader stood and removed his gown, carefully arranging it on a coat hanger and placing it on a nearby hook. He then walked over to the window and looked down into Canal Street. It was a cold, dry day, a weak sun intruding occasionally through the clouds. He sighed as he turned and faced his junior. He looked slightly concerned.
‘Do you think we’ve got the analysis of this case right, Edward? Or have we assumed too much?’
Markham-Moore sat up straight in his seat.
‘Too late to do anything about it now. We’re in the jury’s hands.’ He paused and looked quizzically at his leader.
‘You’re not thinking she might be innocent, surely?’
Cronshaw grinned mischievously.
‘Of course not. But we’ve never really got to the bottom of it, have we? I was thinking last night how we might have played it if we’d known for sure that Doyle was not the father of her child?’
‘But we don’t know that for sure, do we? And without a DNA test we could never find out and there’s no way any judge would order a test after she put Doyle down as the father.’
‘I agree. But I can’t help wondering about it. And there are other ways of getting a DNA test done. Whatever the eventual verdict, I for one would like to know the truth. If she did join in what we have called the later conspiracy – to make it look like Doyle organised the abduction and blackmail – it probably follows that he’s not the father. But why would she have said he is if it isn’t the truth?’
Markham-Moore thought for a moment.
‘To protect someone? Perhaps herself even? Doyle would naturally expect the child was his. He wouldn’t like it if he’d been cuckolded. And he might well take it out on her.’
‘But if not Doyle, who? You remember what I said the other day? That someone out there is pulling the strings in her favour.’ He paused. ‘It must be someone very powerful. But I’ve simply no idea who it might be.’
‘Well it’s certainly not Grayling or Duffy. Grayling’s dead and I just don’t see Duffy as even coming close to taking over Grayling’s organisation – and he was involved wit
h Carol Jarvis, of course. And he’s simply not up to it.’ He paused. ‘I can’t believe she’d be attracted to someone like Hanlon. He’s old enough to be her father and when you think about it, she must have conceived the child in December ninety-eight - when we know for certain she was definitely in a relationship with Doyle.’
‘Yes, but Doyle was laid up in hospital from the beginning of ninety-nine for quite a while. She’s a very attractive woman. She’d turn most men’s heads. Someone else, apart from Savage, may have caught her eye. Hood has always thought she was one for the main chance. If she’d got herself pregnant in early January, that would still fit in with a birthdate at the end of September.’
Cronshaw chucked to himself.
‘There is something we could do that would really put the cat amongst the pigeons. It won’t affect the verdict, but it might reveal what is really going on in that mind of hers.’
‘You mean let her know about Doyle’s release? Can we do that?’
‘She’ll find out soon enough. Everdene already knows. All I have to do is lift the embargo. He’ll feel bound to tell her then, and we might try and get Doyle here for the verdict. I’m sure the Attorney could get his release brought forward by a day or two.’
Markham-Moore gave his leader a look of alarm. ‘I don’t know about that, Hal. Wouldn’t we be putting Doyle at risk? Once she discovers he’s out, she’ll probably work out why. Because he fingered Duffy, as will others. It sounds like Hanlon already thinks it was him.’
‘Perhaps I was being a little rash. But I don’t see any problem in letting her know he will be freed when the verdict comes in. She’s probably worked out Doyle’s role already. She’s no fool and Edwin won’t be able to resist telling us her reaction.’
‘I think I’d prefer it if she found out directly from Doyle. He’ll be hightailing it up here as soon as he’s out, I would have thought.’
There was a knock and the robing room door half opened. Chief inspector Hood popped his head round and asked to see Cronshaw - in private. The QC nodded and the two of them walked downstairs towards the conference room reserved for the prosecution team.
‘We’ve finished checking the court CCTV,’ said Hood. ‘Your guess was right. Dudley Manning was here. On the first day of the trial. It looks like he managed to get a seat in the courtroom too.’
A Private and Convenient Place Page 36