by M. R. Hall
'The night Eva was killed, you were at the Mission Church with your husband, is that correct?'
'Yes.'
'From what time?'
'Shortly after six, as far as I recall.'
'And when did you receive the message that Miss Donaldson wasn't coming?'
'A little while before the service. At about six-thirty.'
'Were you with your husband at the time?'
'We were in the boardroom at the church offices planning our meetings for the coming week.'
'Didn't it occur to either of you to try to persuade her to come?'
Christine said, 'No. I think we both felt that if she were exhausted we had better leave her to recover. She had a busy time ahead. We all did.'
'Might there have been another reason why Eva didn't come to the church that night?'
Christine said, 'If there was, I think we would all know about it by now.'
A pair of junior lawyers escorted Christine Turnbull to the door, where she was met by a driver who would whisk her away to her final frantic round of lobbying meetings. As Joel Nelson took her place in the box, Alison leaned over to Jenny to let her know she had received a text from Andy
Kerr saying his test results had come back with something that might be of interest. Could she call him?
'You call him,' Jenny said. 'If it's important, get him to court.'
Alison crept out to the side office as Jenny turned her attention to Nelson. His face radiated confidence.
'Tell me, Mr Nelson,' Jenny said, 'did you and Eva often pray together?'
'Not often, but we certainly did.'
'Can you tell us what about?'
Nelson said, 'I can put my hand on my heart and say there is nothing Eva ever told me in confidence that could have any bearing on this inquest. She was looking forwards, not back. She was seeking strength and inspiration, and on the whole that's what we prayed for.'
'What else?'
'Normal day-to-day things, the minor incidents of life.'
'Money?'
Nelson shook his head. 'No. That was never a subject that was mentioned.'
'Relationships?'
Nelson gave a patient smile. 'Ma'am, to tell you the truth, whenever I sat down with Eva she usually wanted to pray for others.'
'Others in the church?'
'For the most part.'
'Did a lot of people bring her their troubles?'
'Of course.'
'Such as?'
'You name it. But that's what we ask people to do - to offer up their problems in prayer.'
Jenny heard the door to the office open and close. Alison tiptoed across the creaky, uneven boards towards her. She leaned down and spoke to her in a whisper.
'Something about carbon fibre particles on both Freddy Reardon and Alan Jacobs's bodies. There might be some connection with Eva. He'll be here in fifteen minutes, but we can't keep him - he's dealing with a cot death.'
Jenny thanked her and turned back to Nelson. 'Did she ever mention Freddy Reardon or Alan Jacobs in these sessions?'
'You make it sound like a formal ritual - it really wasn't. And no, I don't believe she did.'
'How can you be sure? It sounds as if she mentioned so many.'
'I chose my words very precisely, ma'am,' Nelson said. 'I don't believe she did, but it's also possible I don't remember.'
Jenny glanced at Annabelle Stern and saw her features harden. The assistant next to her was punching a message into his phone. She sensed that she had strayed into uncomfortable territory. Mentioning Freddy and Jacobs was a breach of her deal with Moreton; grudgingly, she took a sideways step.
'Did the problems you prayed for ever include suicidal thoughts?'
'That came up occasionally and it still does. It's a far more common phenomenon than you might think.'
'Do you have protocols, a system to refer such people to professionals who can treat them?'
'The church doesn't hold itself out as being a substitute for medicine, if that's what you're implying.'
'But you are a church that believes in miracles.'
'That's the basis of Christian faith,' Nelson said. 'Jesus was God made flesh. He can, and does, heal all the time.'
Sullivan scraped back his chair. 'Ma'am, I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning.'
'I'll put it directly. Mr Nelson, is it possible that someone who was relying on Eva for support had become an unbearable burden? Threatening, even?'
Nelson shook his head. 'Absolutely not. Prayer counsellors are told to refer anyone they can't cope with upwards. In Eva's case that would have been to Pastor Lennox Strong.'
Satisfied, Sullivan sat down with a look that warned her not to trespass off-limits again.
Jenny took Nelson back to the first two weeks in March, but he claimed he knew nothing more than Christine Turn- bull. She tried again, but he stuck resolutely to the party line.
'Can you remember the last time you spoke to her, the phone call on the Sunday evening?'
'Very well.'
'Where were you?'
'At my desk in the church office. The phone rang, it was Eva. I told her that Lennox had just been asking after her. He wanted to go through the running order before the service. She sounded very quiet. She said she was really sorry, but she was too exhausted to come. I asked if she was all right, and she explained that it had been a very long week and she just had to crash out.'
'Crash out? Are those the words she used?'
'Yes.'
Jenny picked up the file of documents she had received the previous week from Craven's solicitors and turned to the section containing the statements DI Goodison's team had taken in the two days before Craven confessed. She turned to the single sheet containing Nelson's.
'You gave a statement to the police on the evening of Monday the 10th. In it you say, "Eva called to say she was too tired to come in. I said we understood and would see her in the morning." You didn't say anything to the police about crashing out, or asking how she was. Why didn't you give them this detail?'
'I suppose I was still shell-shocked.'
'You didn't want to be as helpful as you could? It's an important detail, Mr Nelson - she didn't crash out, did she? She opened a bottle of wine when she should have been talking to four thousand people. When someone's spoken to you for the last time you think back and remember every word, don't you?'
Rocked, Nelson said, 'I apologize. That's all I can put it down to. The shock.'
'You're sure you haven't added this detail to make it sound less ambiguous?'
'It's what she said, I swear.'
She looked to the lawyers. 'Does anyone wish to question this witness?'
There were no takers.
Jenny wrestled with the feeling that there was more, that she had missed something, but reluctantly she was forced to release Nelson from the witness box.
Lennox Strong appeared unsettled as he sat in the chair. The self-assured smile seemed to require a conscious effort. He lacked the inner glow shared by his two colleagues. Jenny decided she must hit him hard and fast.
'Mr Strong, would you say that in the last six months of her life you were closer to Eva Donaldson than anyone else?'
'I suppose that's right,' he said quietly.
'You must have spent many hours together working on your book.'
'We did.'
'Where did you do that, as a matter of interest?'
'We'd find a spare office in the church, or the cafe maybe.'
'Just the two of you?'
'Yes,' Strong said, as if he were confident he had nothing to be ashamed of.
'What kind of things did you talk about aside from the book?'
He shrugged. 'Whatever came up. All sorts of things.'
'And she told you she was thinking of entering the ministry, becoming a pastor like you.'
'Oh, yeah. We talked about that a lot.'
Jenny felt the heat of Annabelle Stern's predatory eyes.
'And you discussed her doubts about that as well as her ambition?'
'Certainly,' Strong said, with a hint of caution now.
Jenny glanced down at her notes, stealing a moment to calm herself.
'Did she bring other people's problems to you also - people in the church?'
'She did.'
'Did she ever talk to you about Alan Jacobs?'
'I'm not at liberty to discuss confidences,' Strong said.
'I'm not asking you to breach any confidences, Mr Strong. I'm simply asking whether she mentioned him.'
Lennox Strong looked at the lawyers, then at his feet.
'I'd like an answer, please, Mr Strong.'
'Yes, she mentioned Mr Jacobs.'
'Thank you. And Freddy Reardon, too?'
'I think so.'
'Did they cause her a lot of problems?'
It was Sullivan's voice that shot back at her. 'Ma'am, we appear to be drifting a long way off the point again.'
'I decide what's relevant in my own court, Mr Sullivan. Sit down.'
'Ma'am—'
'No, Mr Sullivan. Sit.'
Sullivan unwillingly gave way.
'You were about to say . . .'
'They each had issues,' Strong said carefully, 'but they weren't alone in that.'
'But you must have known these two particularly well, Mr Strong. When Freddy Reardon was an inpatient at the Conway Unit two years ago, you went there to speak.'
'I've been there a few times, yes.'
'Was it Alan Jacobs who arranged it?'
'No. It was an idea that came up in the church - offering pastoral care to troubled kids. I was one of those once.'
'You were in a prison, not a psychiatric unit.'
'Often there's not a lot of difference.'
'Did either Freddy Reardon or Alan Jacobs cause Eva Donaldson problems, harass her in any way?'
'No. She never said anything about that.'
'Would she have done?'
'I'm sure she would.'
'Did she talk to you about her money problems?'
There was a pause as Lennox Strong wrestled with his conscience. 'She mentioned her worries once or twice.'
'Did you know she had a £15,000 legal bill?' 'No.'
'Or that she was trying to sue an adult film company for royalties?'
'No, ma'am. Eva never mentioned that.'
'Back in March, did she tell you she was being harassed by someone?'
He shook his head.
'So there was a whole side to her life you knew nothing about?'
'I guess so . . .'
'Does that surprise you?'
'Yes,' he said, quietly.
'Mr Strong, are you telling the whole truth? You're a man who every week asks thousands of people to trust him. I've seen you talk: you don't just tell people you've felt the presence of God, you tell them you've been snatched from the jaws of hell... I find it very hard to believe that a lonely and troubled woman like Eva Donaldson would have kept any secrets from you.'
Lennox Strong sat very still. Annabelle Stern's piercing gaze bored into him. Jenny waited for his answer, but none came. She let the silence stretch on. Five, then ten seconds passed as the pastor searched deep inside himself.
The moment was broken by the sound of the door opening at the back of the room. Andy Kerr stepped in, flustered from his hurried journey from the Vale. Under his arm he carried a leather document case.
Jenny said, 'Go back to your seat for a moment, please, Mr Strong. Come forward, Dr Kerr.'
The lawyers exchanged panicked whispers as Andy Kerr and Lennox Strong swapped places. It was Fraser Knight who spoke for them.
'Ma'am, we've had no notice of this witness.'
'We're at the same disadvantage, Mr Knight. No more interruptions, please.' She turned to Dr Kerr and reminded him that he too was still under oath. 'I understand you have received test results that may be of interest to us.'
'Possibly,' Dr Kerr said. He unzipped the document case and brought out several sheets of paper from a file, some of which, Jenny could see, displayed photographs. 'I was looking for a connection between two different corpses. They are those of Alan Jacobs and Freddy Reardon, who I believe were associates of Miss Donaldson.'
Anticipating Sullivan's objection, Jenny cut him off. 'I'm sure the relevance will become clear in a moment, Mr Sullivan. Be patient.'
Her rebuke drew smiles from the jury.
Dr Kerr continued: 'Mr Reardon had abrasions around his wrists typical of the kind caused by handcuffs, or at least handcuffs the wearer has resisted in some way. He had sought to disguise these injuries with some sort of concealer of the type usually used to cover blemishes on the face. I took a sample of the abraded skin and subjected it to microscopic examination.' He held up a photograph taken through the lens of the microscope. 'I found two things: minute flakes of lead-based gloss paint, cream or yellowish in colour, and numerous strands of fibreglass typical of the kind found in roof insulation.' He indicated several points on the photograph with his finger. 'What's the relevance? Well, I'd say there's a strong chance Reardon was cuffed to something - a railing or a pipe, perhaps - coated with this old gloss paint. Where there's glass fibre insulation, particles like this will be floating in the air, settling on the skin and being inhaled. Sure enough, there was evidence of similar fibres in the boy's nasal passages. You'd expect the mucus to clear them in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I'm sure he inhaled them within a day or two of his death.'
Jenny looked over at Lennox Strong. Joel Nelson was trying to say something to him, but he wasn't listening. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clamped tight shut as if he were battling an acute pain.
Dr Kerr continued, 'I checked Alan Jacobs's nasal passages and found the same fibres, only they were present in greater density, suggesting exposure in the hours immediately preceding death.' He held up another highly magnified photograph. 'They are a similar length and width as those in Mr Reardon's body.' He put the picture aside and lifted up two others. 'Lastly, I took samples from the mucus membranes in Miss Donaldson's nasal passages. There was no evidence of glass fibres in her nose, but from the sample
I took from high up inside the sinus,' he nodded towards the photograph in his right hand, 'there was a significant concentration. That tells me she was exposed on several occasions, but not in the days immediately preceding her death.' He turned to Jenny. 'A more detailed examination of the airways would yield further detail, but that's all I have at the moment.'
'Where would you find these kinds of fibre?' Jenny asked.
'Either in a roof space or somewhere where insulating fibre is being handled - in a building undergoing refurbishment, perhaps.'
Jenny's mind flooded with strange images: a place where Eva and Freddy and Jacobs had all been, a place where Jacobs had been hours before his death to which Freddy returned a week later, handcuffed.
There was a burst of activity on the lawyers' benches. Another assistant was dispatched from the hall. Annabelle Stern and Sullivan were locked in frantic consultation.
'Does anyone have any questions?' Jenny said.
Sullivan shot to his feet. 'Ma'am, we request an immediate adjournment to review this evidence and appoint an independent expert.'
'You don't need an adjournment to do that, Mr Sullivan. Thank you, Dr Kerr. Unless you have anything more to add, you're free to go.'
Annabelle Stern tugged on Sullivan's sleeve and whispered instructions in his ear.
'Could you come back please, Mr Strong,' Jenny said.
Sullivan interrupted again. 'Ma'am, I am instructed to inform you that an application is currently being heard in the High Court to have these proceedings halted. I request an adjournment pending the outcome.'
'And is this an application made on behalf of your clients, Mr Sullivan?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'On what grounds?'
'Ma'am you may not wish the answer to that to be given in open court.'
; So that's where Ed Prince had disappeared to. How naive of her to think he would have trusted anything to chance. He would be in court right now with the most expensive QC he could buy, who would be persuading a judge that she was barely a notch off certifiable and had spent a lifetime protecting her father, who, as chance would have it, was currently under investigation for suspected child abuse and perhaps even murder. Even if she had given Moreton the time of his life, she doubted if he would have been able to stand in the way of the juggernaut that was careering towards her now.
'If you get your order, Mr Sullivan,' Jenny said icily, 'then, and only then, will this inquiry be required to stop. Until that moment you will do nothing more to obstruct it.' She turned to Lennox Strong. 'I'm waiting, Mr Strong.'
Sullivan refused to give way. 'Mr Strong is not giving any more evidence.'
Jenny snapped. 'You're leaving my courtroom now, Mr Sullivan.' She gestured to Alison. 'Officer, see this man out.'
Alison looked up in surprise, then made her way across the floor.
'Ma'am, my clients are entitled to be represented,' Sullivan objected.
Ignoring him, Jenny said, 'Mr Strong, you will return to the witness box or go to prison for contempt. What is it to be?'
The young pastor rose from his seat. Joel Nelson snatched at his wrist, but Strong shook him off. 'Leave me alone, Joel.'
He strode forwards, ignoring Sullivan, who hissed a warning to him as he passed. Annabelle Stern had a phone pressed to each ear.
He sat squarely in the witness chair and seemed to fix his stare on a point on the far distance beyond the confines of the hall.
'I asked you whether you had told the whole truth, Mr Strong. You have yet to answer.'
'No, ma'am, I haven't,' Strong said, his words coming from the part of his conscience that was winning the raging battle inside him. 'Some things happened in my church that were nothing to do with me, or with Eva.'