House of Correction

by French, Nicci

  Tabitha wrote the word ‘knife’ on her pad. It was the first note she had taken. She had been looking at the jury while Dr Garner gave his evidence. When they were shown the photographs of the wounds, two of the women put their hands over their mouths and the man-bun man rubbed his eyes and went very white.

  The only surprise came when Dr Garner was asked about the time of death. He said that because of the temperature of the body at the scene and the progress of rigor mortis and the pooling of blood in the body, he put the time of death at between about 1pm and about 3.30pm. Tabitha wrote a note of that with a question mark.

  Simon Brockbank thanked Dr Garner and sat down.

  Again everyone turned to Tabitha. She stood up and for a moment she felt as if the court had rotated slightly. She lurched and had to hold on to her chair to stop herself from falling.

  She had a vague sense that she ought to say something to defend herself, but she wasn’t clear what Dr Garner’s testimony meant for her. Was it actually that damning?

  ‘All right,’ she said, starting a sentence that she didn’t know how to continue. Suddenly she had a thought and she felt herself clutching at it desperately. ‘Stuart Rees was quite big and strong, wasn’t he?’

  ‘I’m really not sure.’

  ‘You did the autopsy. Don’t you take measurements?

  Dr Garner had an open laptop in front of him on the witness stand. He looked down at it and tapped at the keyboard.

  ‘Stuart Rees was just over five feet ten inches tall. I can’t speak to his strength.’

  ‘But he was bigger than me.’

  ‘I can’t really see from here.’

  ‘That’s because I’m stuck in this ridiculous thing. That’s why I have to shout.’

  ‘You don’t have to shout,’ said Judge Munday. ‘We can hear you perfectly well.’

  ‘Sorry, My Lady. All right, I’m five foot one, if that. So he was much bigger than me, right?’

  ‘Bigger, yes.’

  ‘The stab wounds were all from the front, yes?’

  ‘One of them was on the right side of the abdomen.’

  ‘So doesn’t it seem unlikely that someone of my size could do that to someone of his size?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ Tabitha hadn’t expected such a stark response. ‘Well, maybe other people won’t agree with that.’

  Dr Garner turned to the judge. ‘Is it all right if I expand on that?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Judge Munday.

  Dr Garner proceeded to give a detailed account of a recent autopsy he had conducted. In a gang-related incident, the victim, taller and stronger than Stuart Rees, had been stabbed multiple times by a young woman of about Tabitha’s size and build.

  ‘If one person has a sharp knife,’ he concluded, ‘and the other doesn’t, then size is of less importance.’

  ‘Odd, though,’ said Tabitha, a little desperately.

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ said Dr Garner in a dry tone.

  Tabitha looked down at her scanty notes in search of inspiration.

  ‘The knife,’ she said. ‘The one you said fitted the wound. Was it found by the body?’

  Dr Garner paused. ‘No.’

  ‘Where was it found?’

  ‘It was a kitchen knife. I believe it was found in the kitchen.’

  ‘It was just a normal knife, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s probably a knife like that in every kitchen, isn’t there?’

  ‘In most kitchens, probably. Yes.’

  Tabitha looked down at her notes again. She felt like there was something that needed asking but she didn’t know how to put it.

  ‘I saw a documentary once.’

  ‘What?’ said Dr Garner.

  ‘It was about forensics. It was called “Myth Busting” or something like that. One of the things it said was that this estimated time of death stuff is all a bit, you know, dubious. Do you know what I mean? I mean, do you agree?’

  ‘No.’

  The witness box was on the far right of the courtroom, just below where the judge sat. Dr Garner had been looking ahead of him, mainly addressing Judge Munday. But now he turned to look at Tabitha with an expression of distaste. Simon Brockbank had described him as ‘a leading figure in his field’. And now he was having to deal with this.

  ‘You saw the body at about six, right?’

  ‘I arrived at about a quarter past.’

  ‘You knew that the police had arrived at about five, so that bit wasn’t very hard. But what about the earlier time? You said after one pm. How did you come up with that time?’

  When Dr Garner replied he spoke slowly and evenly as if he were talking to a small child.

  ‘As I have already explained, there is a formula for the drop in the core temperature of the body.’

  ‘If there’s a formula, then why don’t you give an exact time of death? Two-forty-three or something like that?’

  ‘Different bodies cool at different rates. So I put forward a range of possibilities based on long experience.’

  ‘Do other things affect it?’

  ‘Affect what?’ Dr Garner was sounding tetchy now. He looked up at Judge Munday. ‘Is this really necessary?’

  She tapped her pen on the desk. She didn’t look entirely satisfied with the situation.

  ‘I’ll intervene if Ms Hardy’s questions are improper.’

  He gave another hum. ‘What was the question?’ he said.

  ‘Time of death,’ said Tabitha. ‘What other things affect it?’

  ‘Many factors. Surrounding temperatures, the way in which the body was kept.’

  ‘You said between one and three-thirty. What about twelve o’clock? Would that be impossible?’

  ‘Unlikely. On the information I was given. Or obtained.’

  ‘Impossible?’

  ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘Eleven?’

  ‘I’m just giving my expert testimony.’

  ‘Ten?’

  ‘Really,’ said Dr Garner, ‘this is absurd.’

  ‘Absurd? I’m on trial for my fucking life,’ said Tabitha.

  ‘Ms Hardy,’ said Judge Munday in a raised tone. ‘You are not to use language like that in my court. And you are not to address a witness like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry. But I just wanted to say that this is just guesswork.’

  ‘You’re not meant to just say things,’ said Judge Munday. ‘You’re meant to ask questions.’

  Tabitha thought for a moment. ‘It’s guesswork, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ said Dr Garner.

  She sat down. She didn’t feel pleased with her performance. She had done what she had promised not to do: she had created confusion for its own sake.

  FIFTY-SIX

  ‘Look what they let me in with,’ said Michaela the next morning, shouldering her way into the cell with her files under one arm and her canvas bags slung over the other shoulder. She was wearing a pinstriped jacket and leopard-print leggings and her hair was tied back in complicated braids. She smelt of tobacco and a perfume that was musky and reminded Tabitha of dark basements.

  ‘Real coffee!’ said Tabitha, as Michaela held out a cardboard cup.

  ‘And’ – Michaela put down all her burdens and rustled in one of the bags – ‘doughnuts!’

  ‘Amazing,’ said Tabitha, though she had no appetite. Her stomach felt loose with the anticipation of the day ahead.

  She took the coffee. It was strong and bitter and gave her a welcome jolt.

  ‘There is a queue going all the way along the side of the building.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘People queuing up to get a seat in the public gallery.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think you made a bit of a stir the last time. Word must have got around. Someone told me they started queuing at six.’

  ‘Christ, that’s all I need.’

  ‘Are you ready for the day?’

&nb
sp; ‘I’ve felt readier. Remind me of the schedule.’

  Michaela opened the first file and took off the top page.

  ‘I put everything in order last night,’ she said. ‘It took ages; everything had got in a bit of a mess what with you dropping things. Here. First off, Pauline Leavitt, whoever she may be.’

  ‘Someone who doesn’t like me,’ said Tabitha.

  ‘Oh.’ Michaela held out a doughnut encouragingly. ‘And then it’s Laura Rees. Have you worked out what you want to ask them both?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Playing it by ear?’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

  * * *

  Pauline Leavitt walked with a stick. It seemed to take a painfully long time for her to reach the witness box. Tabitha glanced at the jury: the serious woman looked even more serious; Blinky in her hippyish clothes was blinking more than ever and slightly nodding as if to encourage the old lady; the ponytail man was chewing his thumb reflectively; the smiley woman in the headscarf was gazing at Pauline Leavitt with an expression of intense sympathy, while beardy guy steepled his hands and rested his chin on them and looked sad. For the briefest moment, Tabitha’s eyes met those of Scary, whose expression was wrathful, the storm clouds gathering.

  There was a lot of unnecessary fussing. Pauline Leavitt was asked if she was quite sure she was comfortable. She was handed a glass of water. She was thanked for being in court. She was told that if she needed a break at any point she should simply say. Tabitha felt her irritation growing: it wasn’t as if Pauline Leavitt had witnessed anything unpleasant or suffered some kind of trauma, and yet because she had white hair and limped – limped, what was more, like she never did in Okeham – everyone was treating her with exaggerated deference and care. Tabitha realised that her face had become scrunched up in a scowl. She tried to soften her expression.

  Pauline Leavitt took her oath on the Bible. She was led, with infinite gentleness, through the throat-clearing bit about who she was and where she lived and how she knew Tabitha.

  ‘I wouldn’t say I know her really,’ she said and gave a sweet smile that to Tabitha seemed a small curl of sheer malice. ‘She doesn’t exactly mix with the rest of us. We pride ourselves on being a welcoming community in Okeham, but she has never been very friendly.’

  Tabitha stood up and rapped on the Perspex.

  ‘Yes?’ Judge Munday looked at her with her eyebrows arched.

  ‘That’s not true, they’re not at all welcoming, or not to someone like me who doesn’t—’

  ‘Please be quiet, Ms Hardy. You will get your chance later, if you choose to cross-examine. If you feel that the witness’s remarks are prejudicial or irrelevant you may object.’

  ‘I object.’

  ‘Ms Hardy, this isn’t an American courtroom. We don’t have objections and we don’t have gavels. If you want to raise a legal point, then you can stand up and make it courteously. But mainly you should wait until it’s your turn.’

  ‘I always had only friendly feelings towards her,’ Pauline Leavitt continued complacently. ‘I felt sorry for her.’ Tabitha bunched her fists. ‘She was obviously lonely, but I’m afraid she was her own worst enemy.’

  The comfy juror gave an understanding nod. The blotchy young man yawned.

  ‘On the twenty-fourth of December you went of your own volition to the police station and made a statement. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Simon Brockbank made a great show of finding the statement. ‘Page twenty-three in your folder,’ he said to the jury. He cleared his throat. ‘The relevant part is very short. I am going to read it out to you. “Sometime in the days before the twenty-first of December I saw Tabitha Hardy talking to Stuart Rees while I was out walking with my dog. They both seemed agitated. She was saying something like, ‘I’ll get you. I promise that I’ll get you.’ ” Do you remember making that statement?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And you stand by it.’

  ‘Most certainly. I remember it like it was yesterday. I am old but I have an excellent memory,’ she added, addressing the jury.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Simon Brockbank. ‘So to be absolutely clear, you saw the accused talking to Stuart Rees in the days leading up to his murder, and you clearly heard her verbally threatening him.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘ “I’ll get you, I promise that I’ll get you,” ’ he said, very slowly and very clearly.

  ‘Yes.’

  Tabitha rapped on the Perspex. The judge looked towards her.

  ‘Or something like that,’ said Tabitha. ‘That’s what the statement says: “something like”.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Judge Munday, and Tabitha felt a surge of triumph: for the first time, she wasn’t disapproving.

  ‘I was coming to that,’ said Simon Brockbank smoothly. He turned back to Pauline Leavitt. ‘ “Something like”: I take it you meant that was the gist of the accused’s words?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘What did you mean when you said “something like”?’ asked the barrister patiently.

  Tabitha scribbled a note on her pad.

  ‘I wanted to be very truthful and not say anything to the police that might not be completely accurate. I just meant that she might have used ever-so-slightly different words. Like, “I promise I will get you soon” or “I swear I will get you” or “I promise I will get you for what you did”, or even—’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Simon Brockbank, cutting her off. ‘And what was the manner of the accused when she was saying these words?’

  ‘She looked angry. And—’ She stopped for a moment.

  ‘Take your time.’

  ‘A bit frightening, if I’m honest. Out of control.’

  Tabitha lifted her hand to knock against the Perspex but let it drop.

  ‘And what about Stuart Rees?’ asked the barrister, after a pause to let Pauline Leavitt’s words sink in. ‘How did he respond?’

  ‘I don’t know. His back was to me.’

  ‘I see. So what did you take from the exchange?’

  ‘I took from the exchange that she was angry and threatening him. But I never thought she would actually kill him.’

  ‘And did you repeat what you had heard to anyone else? I mean, it must have been rather shocking for you to hear such words.’

  ‘It was shocking. It was very shocking. But I didn’t tell anyone else.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Pauline Leavitt pursed her lips and looked solemn. ‘I’m not a gossip,’ she said.

  Tabitha let out a small snort and Judge Munday glared warningly at her.

  ‘I thought it best to keep quiet,’ the old woman continued. ‘Though of course if I’d believed for a single minute that…’ Her voice wavered. She took a sip from her glass of water with a trembling hand. ‘If only I’d known,’ she said.

  * * *

  It was Tabitha’s turn. She stood up and looked towards Pauline Leavitt, who looked calmly back at her. In a rush, Tabitha understood the old woman actually hated her. She took a steadying breath and turned slightly towards Judge Munday.

  ‘How far from me were you standing?’ she asked without raising her voice.

  ‘Sorry? Can you repeat that?’

  ‘It must have been substantially further away than you are from me now,’ Tabitha said in the same even tone, still looking towards the judge.

  ‘I didn’t quite catch—’ said Pauline Leavitt. She halted and looked at Brockbank.

  Tabitha grinned. ‘Thank you. I have no further questions, My Lady.’

  She sat down. Someone in the public gallery gave a loud guffaw and out of the corner of her eye she saw Michaela give one of her thumbs-up signs again. Brockbank rose swiftly.

  ‘The accused cannot seriously be suggesting that there is no difference between hearing a heated argument on the street and hearing someone talk from the dock, with a wall of Perspex seriously impeding audibility.’
/>   ‘I’m just saying,’ said Tabitha, getting to her feet again, ‘she and me are much closer to each other now than we were then and she obviously couldn’t hear me so why should anyone believe what she’s saying? I don’t. What’s more, she’ – Tabitha pointed to Judge Munday – ‘Our Lady, that is, or sorry, My Lady, has already said very emphatically that my audibility is not impeded which is why it’s all right for me to be up here, so are you saying the judge is wrong?’

  ‘You were deliberately lowering your voice,’ said Brockbank. On his face was an expression of studied outrage.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Judge Munday.

  ‘I’m just—’ began Tabitha.

  ‘I know exactly what you’re doing. I do not need your help, thank you. I do the ruling in this court.’ She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, looking suddenly older and less impregnable. ‘Very well, we will break for lunch and after that you may sit on the bench.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Does that mean, My Lady,’ said Simon Brockbank quickly, ‘that my point about the inaudibility of the accused from the dock is accepted by the court.’

  ‘No, it does not. It simply means that the accused can take her place on the lawyers’ bench.’

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  ‘Well played,’ Brockbank murmured an hour and a half later as Tabitha took up her new position.

  ‘This isn’t a game.’

  ‘You should learn how to take a compliment.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Ms Hardy,’ Judge Munday said and Tabitha looked round. Had she been overheard?

  ‘Before the jury come in, I want to warn you. I have grave concerns about allowing you to cross-examine Laura Rees.’ She pushed her wig back slightly to scratch her head and Tabitha was startled to glimpse short red hair.

  ‘I have to,’ she said. ‘It’s my right.’

  ‘It’s for me to decide what your rights are. She is the wife of the man who you are accused of murdering. There are strict rules about this kind of thing. If you step out of line, I will come down heavily on you. Do you hear?’

  ‘I don’t know what the rules are.’

  Judge Munday sighed. ‘Keep to your brief. Don’t ask questions that are irrelevant or unnecessarily distressing. Basically, behave like a decent and rational human being, if that’s not beyond you. If you step out of line, I will force you to have representation.’