‘I doubt if they could even find her,’ said Paul Green. ‘She sounds a very shadowy figure. Not the type to call attention to herself. I wonder if she rides a motorbike?’
Chapter Forty-Six
At half-past four the judge released the jury until ten o’clock the next morning. He was in a very good mood. Shortly before he sent them home, he had watched Looks Like Trouble romp home by five lengths in the Gold Cup. See More Business wasn’t even placed. He was delighted. The only cloud on the horizon was the dinner party arranged at the Judges’ Lodgings that evening. The High Sheriff and his wife had been invited, but Lady Hornbeam had already made her presence felt and was organising the staff and interfering with the arrangements as she always did. The judge would not be able to discuss his win at the dinner table. Her ladyship disapproved of horse racing and gambling almost as much as Keith, his clerk. The celebrations would have to wait.
The next morning, the jurors re-assembled and were sent out by the judge to continue with their deliberations. Marcus Beamer had returned from Cheltenham and had handed the judge his winnings before the court sat.
‘Four hundred and fifty pounds,’ he said, grinning widely. ‘And your stake, of course. So that’s five hundred and fifty pounds – tax free. I got on at nine to two. I held off for a while but I saw there were some big bets going on, so I couldn’t wait any longer. I put a hundred on myself.’
He counted out the sum in twenty and ten pound notes as the judge’s clerk looked on, disapprovingly.
‘So, a good day all round,’ declared the judge. He wasn’t really interested in the money. It was selecting and backing the winner that gave him the greater pleasure, although the credit really belonged to Marcus.
‘I shall have to come to Nottingham again,’ he said, smiling broadly.
‘They’ve put in a murder for Plea and Case management,’ interrupted his clerk, coldly. ‘I’ll have counsel standing by as soon as the jury goes out.’
‘Back to reality,’ murmured the judge. ‘Many thanks Marcus. Any more tips, don’t hesitate to let me know. You can always pass the information on through Keith here.’
He glanced at his clerk whose expression would have curdled fresh milk.
* * * *
In the jury room, the discussions continued in a fairly civilised manner. Bryan got exasperated from time to time, frustrated that some of the others could not see what he thought was blindingly obvious, but everyone was making an effort to get along with each other. Geoffrey Sibthorpe, a retired accountant, had kept himself to himself throughout the proceedings and said very little other than to compliment Miss Duston on her cakes and to vote in favour of convicting the defendant. It was now his turn to speak.
‘I have no doubt she’s guilty,’ he pronounced. ‘I think some of you have lost touch with reality. I don’t think this has anything to do with Doyle. That’s just a blind. She saw this as the ideal way to make sure he stayed inside. She was in on it from an early stage. That’s why the Maguire woman was in the judge’s house in February. Because she sent her there. There is no other rational explanation for that piece of evidence.’ He looked at his fellow jurors over his glasses. ‘I can see through their playacting even if you can’t.’ He leant forward to make his point as forcibly as he could ‘You mark my words, there’s someone out there who’s organising all this for her benefit. And it isn’t Doyle. She’s had enough of him. Why do you think she refused to let him phone her from prison?’
‘She said why,’ interrupted Hannah Mathews, ‘because she thought it might be held against her.’
‘I don’t think so. She might have started off trying to help Doyle, but something happened to change her mind.’
‘What could possibly have changed her mind? Savage didn’t, did he? She soon threw him over.’
‘I think he gave up on her, didn’t he? He was just another blind, as the prosecution said. She’s really involved with someone else. Someone a lot more powerful and significant than Doyle.’
‘Who?’ asked Bryan. ‘Grayling’s dead and Hanlon’s old enough to be her father.’
‘Duffy, perhaps?’ suggested Jimmy.
‘But he’s inside for the next ten years. A woman like her is not going to waste the best years of her life waiting for the likes of him!’ said Hannah.
‘You make my point for me,’ smiled the retired accountant. ‘Doyle’s doing fifteen years. She’s not going to wait for him, either. I’d put my pension on it. She’s got someone else.’
He sat back in his chair looking very pleased with himself.
‘But the prosecution case is that she was doing it all for Doyle,’ said Jimmy.
‘At the outset, yes,’ replied Sibthorpe. ‘You’ve got to read between the lines to see what was really going on here.’
‘So what caused her to change?’
Jimmy’s question was greeted initially with silence. Then Miss Duston had a sudden thought.
‘The child. Perhaps Doyle isn’t the father of her child after all?’
Bryan almost laughed.
‘That’s a bit speculative, isn’t it?’
‘But she registered him as the father and wrote him that letter,’ said Hannah Mathews.
‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ explained Sibthorpe. ‘She might have thought the child was his to begin with, then she discovered that he wasn’t. That would also explain why the prosecution says she went along with Grayling’s plan. Remember, both Duffy and Hanlon said she told Grayling she wanted to make sure Doyle was freed. That was in March. Then she changed her mind.’
‘If she’d been having it away with Doyle and someone else, how would she know who the father was?’ asked Bryan. ‘There’s been no DNA test, has there?’
‘And she wrote the letter after little Michael was born,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘In October. If you’re right, it would mean she was pretending the child was his not only when she registered him but also when she wrote the letter. Why on earth would she do that?’
‘I don’t know. All I’m saying is that she’s as devious as they come. It’s a great pity they never checked the child’s DNA. If Doyle isn’t the father, it would tell us an awful lot if the real father was exposed.’
Paul Green was worried that speculation was taking over from the evidence. ‘I think that’s a possibility. That the child isn’t Doyle’s, but we have to try the case on the evidence. If we are going to convict her, we have to do it on the evidence. We don’t have the child’s DNA and we’re not going to get it. The judge told us that, if you remember? The evidence is closed.’
Miss Duston took another vote. It was now six to acquit, four to convict and two ‘don’t knows’. It was going to be a very long day.
* * * *
At 12.45, the judge called the jury back into court. They had spent over seven and a half hours in retirement. Marcus asked the foreman to stand. ‘Has the jury reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?’
‘No,’ replied Miss Duston, firmly. ‘We have not.’
The judge thanked her then, after inviting her to sit down, gave the jury a majority direction.
‘Try and reach a unanimous verdict, but if you can’t, the court can now accept a verdict upon which at least ten of you are in agreement.’
Several jurors looked at each other. Miss Duston remained unmoved. She gave nothing away.
‘They’re hung,’ whispered Markham-Moore to his leader. ‘We’re going to have to go through the whole damn thing again. Next time without Hanlon and Duffy.’
* * * *
Just after half-past three, the judge invited counsel into his room and offered them tea and chocolate biscuits. Keith served them somewhat grudgingly then left the room. The judge’s win on the Gold Cup was already common knowledge. There were a few grumbles that Marcus Beamer’s tip had not been given wider circulation.
‘I
thought you’d be serving us champagne, in the circumstances,’ joked Cronshaw.
‘I would do so, quite happily,’ said the judge. ‘But Keith wouldn’t approve. He wasn’t that keen on my providing the chocolate biscuits!’
‘Did you work it out for yourself, judge or did you have a bit of inside information?’ asked Everdene, who knew a thing or two about the turf. He had acted for the Jockey Club in a major piece of litigation years before.
‘I must confess I was minded to back last year’s winner at first. It was Marcus Beamer who set me right. He’s quite an expert in his own way.’
‘Well he kept it very much to himself, I must say. We never heard even a whisper from him.’
‘Backed the wrong horse, did you?’
Everdene smiled.
‘Forgot all about it, actually. I’m more interested in the flat. Too many hazards with jump racing. Now, if it had been Royal Ascot, it would have been quite different. I usually make an investment or two during that meeting.’
‘Where would you put your money on the outcome of this trial?’ asked the judge. ‘If they were minded to acquit, I suspect they’d have done it by now.’
‘It’s looking more and more like a hung jury,’ said Cronshaw, despondently.
Everdene raised the prospect of a re-trial having to take place. ‘I agree. It’s not looking too good, for either of us,’ he said, glancing at Cronshaw.
‘Will you bother with a re-trial?’ asked the judge, addressing Cronshaw. ‘With neither Hanlon nor Duffy, you won’t get very far. Unless you can dig out more about the German woman. She sounds very interesting – and dangerous!’
‘We shall have to think about it. At the very least, we’ll have to try and persuade Duffy to continue to cooperate.’
‘Not much chance of that with Hanlon on loose,’ said the judge, ‘but I suppose you’ll have to try and get him to play ball.’ He paused and took a sip of tea. ‘She’s a real enigma, isn’t she? I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the full story.’
‘I agree. There’s a great deal we’ll never know. But I’d certainly like to know what goes on in that calculating little mind of hers.’
‘Good looking woman, though,’ said the judge. ‘There’s many a man would do anything to please someone like her. But what might he require in return?’
‘Looks aren’t everything,’ said Cronshaw, dismissively. ‘I doubt if she’d be loyal to anyone, and include her child in that.’
‘That’s a bit hard,’ countered Felicity Garrard. ‘She’s not had an easy time of it of late. She’s stood up to things pretty well, I think.’
The judge frowned and changed the subject.
‘I saw in this morning’s paper that the governor of Mansfield Shirebrook has resigned. Bit hard on him, I thought. It was hardly his fault the place hadn’t been finished before the prisoners were moved in. By the way, where’s the Attorney? Not sticking around for the verdict?’
‘He’s gone back to London,’ explained Cronshaw. ‘I think he realises the result, whichever way it goes, is not going to enhance his standing. Hanlon’s escape has really embarrassed the government. But I think he’s learnt a lot from his experience in this trial. He’s not a bad sort. I’ve grown quite fond of him, actually.’
‘Not getting involved in criminal trials being to the forefront, I would have thought,’ added Everdene with a smile.
‘Perhaps,’ responded Cronshaw. ‘Most Attorneys learn pretty quickly there’s little to be gained in interfering with criminal prosecutions.’
‘Told him that, did you, Hal?’ asked Everdene, with a grin.
‘I’m not going to answer that question in front of witnesses,’ laughed Cronshaw, placing his cup back on the tray.
‘Reminds me of a case I was in several years ago – when I was still at the Bar,’ said the judge. But before he could continue, his clerk knocked on the door and entered bearing a note from the jury. The judge took the envelope from him and opened it using a silver paper knife. He removed the slip of paper and studied it briefly. The message was short, written in large block capitals covering almost the whole paper.
WE CANNOT AGREE
MAJORITY VERDICT
No voting figures were given. The judge handed the paper to Cronshaw.
‘As I predicted, they’re hung. I suppose there’s little point in encouraging them to continue.’
‘I agree,’ said Cronshaw, looking at his watch. It was almost ten past four. ‘They’ve been out over nine and a half hours. The trial’s been pretty short. If they can’t make their minds up by now…’ He paused. ‘Do you think the block capitals are significant?’
‘Probably means they’ve had enough,’ said Everdene with a sigh. ‘I shall be applying for bail. She’s spent a long time in custody already. Do we have any idea when a re-trial could take place?’
‘Let’s not rush our fences. I shall only be asking for a week or so to consider the Crown’s stance. We may not be in a position to go on again.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
The court was crowded as the judge entered and bowed to counsel. The Press benches were filled to overflowing. Several journalists had been permitted to stand at the back of the court as it was anticipated something significant was about to happen. That was not the mood on counsels’ benches. They anticipated no more than the jury being discharged without a verdict being returned. The usual tension that even the most experienced of counsel always feel immediately before a verdict is returned was completely absent. Markham-Moore had even endorsed his back-sheet accordingly. The jurors came in quickly and took their seats without looking towards the dock.
Marcus Beamer waited for the court to settle then stood and addressed the jury.
‘Will the foreman please stand.’
Miss Duston stood and looked down at the piece of paper she held in her hand. The other jurors looked blankly ahead. None gave anything away.
‘Madam Foreman, please answer my next question either yes or no. Has the jury reached a verdict upon which at least ten of you are agreed?’ asked Marcus.
The judge sat back in his chair fully expecting a negative response. Miss Duston paused and looked directly at the judge.
‘Yes, we have, my Lord.’
The judge sat upright and leant forward. Counsel looked at each other hardly concealing their surprise. Marcus, who was unaware of the contents of the jury’s note, continued in his well established routine.
‘On the charge of attempting to pervert the course of public justice, do you find the defendant, Julia Margaret Hamilton, guilty or not guilty?’
Julia gripped the bar of the dock and looked down. Miss Duston paused as she cleared her throat. Markham-Moore crossed out his earlier endorsement.
‘Not guilty,’ she replied.
Following the conventional practice, Marcus did not, on an acquittal, ask whether the verdict was unanimous or by a majority. That would not, of course, prevent the newspapers and other media reporting that Julia had been acquitted on a majority verdict.
There was a deep intake of breath at the verdict followed by brief applause from some members of the public, which was quickly quelled by the judge’s clerk calling for silence. Chief Inspector Hood shook his head but he was not in the least surprised. Several journalists rushed from the courtroom. Julia sighed deeply and bent her head down in the dock in obvious relief, before collapsing into her seat. Felicity Garrard looked in her direction and smiled. Everdene got to his feet. He was as surprised as anyone but did not show it. He seemed his usual assured self as he addressed the judge.
‘May the defendant be discharged, my Lord?’
‘Of course,’ replied the judge. He looked directly at the defendant and smiled. ‘You are free to go, Miss Hamilton.’
He was, if truth were told, quite pleased not to have to send her to prison.
Julia hesitated, as if she could not quite believe what had occurred, then slowly stood up. She nodded towards the jury and smiled weakly. The dock officer moved towards the door, opened it and ushered her out, his manner being quite different towards her than before. The judge thanked the jury for their care and attention and invited them to go with the jury bailiff where they would receive further instructions. After they had departed, he stood, bowed and walked out of the courtroom followed by his clerk without saying anything further.
‘Well, that was a surprise,’ said Cronshaw. ‘We must have misread the note.’
‘Should have been a full-stop after “agree”, perhaps?’ said Markham-Moore, trying, but failing, to conceal his disappointment. ‘I thought we were in with a shout, but you can’t win them all. After your cross-examination I really thought we might just pull it off.’
* * * *
Julia Hamilton joined her legal team in one of the conference rooms, anxious as she was to avoid speaking with members of the Press who loitered outside the courtroom in large numbers eager to have a quote from her. Having spent several months in prison on remand it was a new experience for her to walk out of the courtroom rather than going down to the cells.
‘I’m delighted for you, Miss Hamilton. It was, as they say, a close run thing but we got there in the end.’
Everdene held out his hand, but Julia did not seem to notice.
‘That means it’s all over?’
‘It does, and I have some more good news for you.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, I was not able to inform you earlier. I was honour bound to wait until a verdict had been returned.’
Julia looked at him, her brow furrowed in curiosity.
‘Michael Doyle is to be released from prison.’
She appeared shocked.
‘Michael? He’s to be released? How can that be?’
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