by Olly Jarvis
‘Do you think Gary’s at his?’
‘No chance, it’s the first place the police would look.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Been on the cards for a while. Panicking about the trial, saying he’ll go down for years. Went back at lunch time, packed a bag and got off.’
‘Maybe he’ll come back tonight?’ suggested Jack.
‘No, he’s long gone.’
‘Did he have any money?’ asked Lara.
‘Few quid, if that.’
‘Have you spoken to the lads?’
‘Yeah, they don’t know nothing, or if they do, they ain’t sayin’.’
‘You know the court will take your five grand if we don’t find him?’ said Jack.
Jammer shrugged. ‘It’s only money. It’s the boy what matters.’
Lara checked her watch. ‘We’ve still got an hour, we’ll have a scout around the area, you never know.’
‘Thanks,’ Jammer replied. ‘I’m gonna hang on, in case he comes back to crash.’
‘He must know they’ll find him eventually?’ said Jack.
‘The boy ain’t that bright, blud.’
Chapter 47
Jack thought it was pointless, but he admired Lara’s refusal to give up on their client.
Daylight turned to dusk as they checked out the shops and takeaways along Slade Lane. Small groups of young people began to appear, making the two overdressed lawyers stick out.
‘That’s the house where it all happened,’ said Lara pointing across the road at a side street with terraced houses.
‘Let’s take a quick look,’ said Jack, crossing over.
‘No, we haven’t got time.’
‘I thought criminals always went back to the scene of their crimes?’
‘Very funny,’ Lara replied sarcastically, catching him up. ‘That’s it there.’
They stopped at the gate as Jack scanned the surroundings. ‘Strange choice,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘No alley at the side, or the back, very open. He had to escape over a load of garden fences. He forced the front door, right?’
‘Someone did, Gary denies it, remember?’
Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Lara’s faith in the defendant. ‘OK, someone chose a very odd house. I mean, burglars don’t go in the front door if they can help it.’
Lara reflected. ‘You’re right, it is weird.’
‘He must’ve knocked first, no one in, so he forces the lock.’
‘And Arthur comes back and disturbs him.’
‘So why are they outside?’
‘The burglar dragged him there to hide the body?’ suggested Lara.
‘But there was no blood inside the house.’
They fell silent.
The front door opened, making them jump.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a middle-aged man, standing in the doorway with a shoebox under one arm.
‘Err, sorry,’ said Lara. ‘We were just looking at the house. We’re lawyers, involved in what happened to Arthur.’
‘I guessed something like that. The clothes give you away.’
Lara laughed. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she asked.
‘I’m his son, Dean, just come back from Oz to sell the house. Do you want to come in?’
‘To be honest, we’re acting for the defendant. I’m Lara Panassai and this is the barrister, Jack Kowalski.’
He stood for a moment, looking at them anew. ‘I suppose you’re only doing your jobs.’ He walked back inside, leaving the door open.
Taking it as an invitation, they followed him through the house, cardboard boxes piled up in the hallway.
‘Was it a young black kid that did it?’
‘That’s what they’re saying,’ Lara replied.
‘He was here earlier.’
‘You’re kidding?’ asked Lara. ‘How long ago?’
‘Couple of hours. Knocked on the door, said he was sorry for everything.’
‘What did you do?’ asked Lara, thrown by the revelation.
‘Told him to get lost. It’s scroats like him that made me leave this city. Manchester’s rotten. Full o’ crime and scum.’ He studied Jack. ‘He don’t say much for a barrister, does he?’
Jack ignored the comment and asked: ‘Do you mind if I look outside?’
‘Be my guest,’ Dean replied, leading him out onto the patio.
The hole was still there, next to a pile of earth and the displaced paving.
‘I’ve gotta sort that before the viewings, but each time I see the…’ His voice trailed off.
‘It must be hard,’ offered Jack, bending down for a closer inspection. He stared at the slabs, splashed with dried blood. Something was out of sync with the expert’s report on the staining. He looked again at the spots and spatters. Something didn’t fit, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He chastised himself for having been so focused on Nowak’s case that he’d neglected to properly consider the evidence in Dixon. He was beginning to realize that he didn’t have the full picture. ‘Lara, let’s take some photos.’
Lara got out her phone and took photographs of the slabs. Jack moved about the patio, lifting some of the dislodged stones so Lara could capture images from every possible angle.
The light began to fade, so they thanked the house’s new owner and made their way out.
With only half an hour remaining before Dixon’s curfew, they walked back to Slade Lane. ‘I knew he wouldn’t go far,’ said Lara. ‘Maybe he just needed time to think?’
‘Before confessing?’
‘Maybe,’ she replied, her faith in Dixon’s innocence beginning to weaken.
They split so Jack could squeeze through a hole in the fence by the railway bridge and search the land along the line. Lara checked out the church and grounds, then peered through the windows of derelict houses.
With only minutes to go, Jack and Lara met up near the entrance to Crowcroft Park. ‘What about in there?’ Lara suggested.
Jack squinted into the twilight. ‘You sure we should do that?’ he asked, knowing the answer.
They walked uneasily along the path, their imaginations creating figures out of every shadow. Having completed a full circuit, they were nearly back at the gate.
‘What’s that?’ asked Lara, pointing at the children’s play area.
As they moved closer, they could make out a person sitting on a swing, with a bag at his feet. ‘Gary?’ Lara called out into the darkness.
The figure jumped off and picked up the bag, ready to run.
‘Wait. It’s Lara and Jack.’
He stopped and stood motionless, watching them draw nearer. ‘What do you want?’
‘To know what’s wrong? We’re working for you, remember?’ She could see his face now. ‘Have you been crying?’
‘Fuck off,’ he replied, wiping his face.
‘You don’t have to carry this on your own, Gary. You’re too young to spend your life running.’
‘And they’ll catch you,’ said Jack, taking a few steps closer.
Gary produced a flick knife from his pocket, rushed forward and held it against Jack’s neck. ‘You know nothing about me.’
‘Gary!’ Lara shouted. ‘Don’t be stupid.’
Jack didn’t move, hoping Dixon’s rage would subside.
‘Jack’s on your side,’ she pleaded.
Tears rolled down Gary’s cheeks. ‘That’s what they all say.’
‘I know what it’s like to feel alone,’ said Lara. ‘I grew up in care, Gary. My parents died when I was a kid.’
He appeared to soften at the disclosure.
‘You need to trust us. We might be able to salvage something from this mess.’ She touched his arm. ‘But you need to tell us what’s going on.’
The teenager was at breaking point. ‘I can’t.’
‘We’re here to help,’ she persisted. ‘Jack’s going to do what he can, aren’t you, Jack?’
‘Yes,’ h
e replied, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the blade.
With a sob Gary lowered his arm and dropped the knife.
Lara guided him over to a bench and sat him down, putting an arm around his shoulder.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
Lara worked on Gary, maintaining a dialogue, and, eventually, talking him into going back to Jammer’s. She left Gary for a moment to check on Jack, who had kept his distance. ‘Don’t take it personally, he didn’t mean anything by it. That’s just abuse.’
‘Really?’ Jack replied, still shaken up.
‘Yeah, I read his file. It’s all locked inside, that’s why he can’t trust anyone.’
‘It’s OK,’ Jack said, but it wasn’t lost on him that Gary Dixon had a dangerous temper. He was more than capable of attacking Arthur Ross.
Lara picked up the knife and threw it in a bin. ‘Jack, you get off, I know you’ve got stuff to do,’ she said as they all walked out onto Slade Lane. ‘I’ll take him back,’ she said, checking her watch to make sure they had time. ‘Thanks for tonight, I owe you.’
‘You sure you’ll be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She smiled. ‘You know, it was pretty cool the way you handled that.’
Gary came over and held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ said Jack. It felt surreal shaking the hand of the man who moments ago had held a knife to his throat.
‘Thank you for everything you’re doing,’ Gary said hesitantly.
Jack felt a pang of guilt for promising his support, when in fact it depended on Nowak’s case finishing the following day. Gary wasn’t a famous footballer, just some messed up kid on legal aid, but if he got the chance, Jack resolved that he would do everything he could to get to the truth.
Chapter 48
Jack let himself into his father’s flat and went upstairs.
Mariusz was sitting in his armchair, a pair of glasses on the end of his nose and some trousers draped across his lap.
‘Tata, shouldn’t you be resting?’ he said, kissing his father’s brow.
Mariusz reached up and held his son’s head to extend the moment. ‘I have lot of work today,’ he replied, gesturing towards a pile of suits on the sofa.
Jack knew his father well enough to know that there was no point protesting.
‘Pani Mila left pierogi, on side. You want me to cook?’
‘Stay where you are, I’ll do it,’ Jack replied, going into the kitchen and putting a pan of water on the stove.
‘OK, but no bacon, doctor say no more fry food for me,’ Mariusz replied, expertly pulling a needle through the cloth.
‘What else did the doctor say?’ Jack called through.
‘You know, he give pills. Always more pills, for thin blood.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me your heart was giving you problems again?’
‘I fine,’ Mariusz replied, dismissing his son’s concern.
‘I bet he said you need to work less?’
Mariusz laughed off the suggestion. ‘What do I do without work?’
Jack’s father would never change, he knew that.
‘How case going?’ he asked.
‘It’s stressful. One minute I think Nowak’s guilty, the next I’m not so sure. I think it’s going to end badly.’
‘Everybody at church depending on you,’ Mariusz replied without looking up.’
‘I know.’ He dropped the pierogi into the boiling water and waited for them to float. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Tata. It’s about religion.’
This time Mariusz did look up. ‘Of course, I glad you thinking about God, ”bout time.’
‘Well, kind of,’ Jack replied, pulling Smart’s letter out of his wallet. He began to read out loud: ‘But if you do that which is evil, be afraid; for he bears not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath on him that does evil.’
‘It’s from Bible,’ said Mariusz.
‘I figured that much,’ Jack said. ‘What’s this person trying to say?’
‘The man with the power is, how you say: worthy, if he do God’s will. Like you, as lawyer.’
‘Like me?’
‘It’s from Romans, Chapter 13,’ said Mariusz. ‘Remind me, what the verse before?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jack replied.
Janusz tutted. ‘Look in your Bible,’ he said, pointing to the bookcase.
Jack pulled out his communion Bible. He hadn’t looked at it for years. He flicked through the pages until he found Romans. ‘Here it is, 13:4. I’m impressed, Tata.’
‘And 13:3?’ Mariusz asked, proud of his biblical knowledge.
Jack read out aloud. One sentence stood out. ‘Do you want to be unafraid of the one in authority? Then do what is right and you will have his approval.’
‘That’s it!’ exclaimed Mariusz.
‘He’s talking about his trial, about me defending him?’
‘Who is?’
Deep in thought, Jack didn’t respond. Then: ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter now.’ He escaped further questions by going back into the kitchen and serving the dumplings. He used a ladle to drop them into two bowls, causing a splash of water to fan out across the worktop. Something in the pattern held Jack’s attention. He thought about the blood stains on the paving. What was he missing? His head was full of too many cases.
Once they’d eaten at the tiny dining table, Mariusz shuffled back to his armchair and began to unstitch some cuffs on a jacket. ‘Will you play some Chopin for me, Janusz, before you go?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, sitting down at the piano. ‘Which piece?’
‘Something to wake me up – a waltz.’
Jack sat down on the stool, placed his delicate fingers on the keys and began to play.
Within seconds, his father was snoring.
Chapter 49
Jack had only managed a couple of hours sleep. The adrenaline kept him going on the walk across town. He wondered if it would always be this way, with work taking every ounce of energy, and no time left for anything else.
His heart sank as he passed the public canteen on the ground floor and saw Jim Smith biting into a bacon barm. How could he confront the journalist who had been so good to him during his first big case? ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Course not,’ Jim replied, his mouth full of bread. ‘They’re thinking of closing this canteen, Jack. Already shut Warrington and Bradford.’
‘I know,’ Jack replied, uncomfortable with the small talk.
‘Don’t the public have the right to eat when they’re at court? Might do a story on it.’
‘Jim?’ Jack cut in.
He had the journalist’s attention.
‘I need to ask you a couple of questions?’
‘Sounds interesting,’ he said, putting down the remains of his sandwich. ‘Fire away.’
‘I saw you in the village yesterday, on Canal Street.’
‘What, you didn’t know I was gay?’ he asked with a wink.
‘It’s not that.’ Jack took a deep breath. ‘I saw you talking to someone.’
‘OK, who?’
‘Scruffy bloke, late forties, outside Queer?’
‘Outside Queer?’
Jack wasn’t sure if Jim couldn’t remember, or if he was just buying time.
‘Oh, I know who you mean.’
The penny dropped.
‘Hang on a minute, was someone following me?’ He studied Jack’s face. ‘No, someone was following him?’
Jack said nothing.
‘This is to do with Nowak, isn’t it?’
‘Look Jim, I just need to know who that guy was.’
He leaned forward. ‘If I tell you, do I get the story?’
‘Only if, and when, it plays out in court.’
‘So what’s in it for me?’
‘Seeing justice done?’
Jim laughed. ‘In these courts?’
Jack’s desperation was obvi
ous.
‘All right, off the record, and only because it’s you, his name is Greg Styles. He’s a freelancer.’
‘What, a journalist?’
‘I suppose you could call him that. Can’t stand him. When I bumped into him, he said he was meeting some kid selling a story on his boyfriend, nothing to do with Nowak, though.’
Jack’s heart was beating faster. ‘So, why don’t you like him?’
‘Gives us all a bad name. He sells kiss-and-tells to the tabloids. I don’t like his methods. He creates the news, if you know what I mean?’
‘Jesus!’ exclaimed Jack, realizing the importance of the discovery.
‘You’re not saying he set Nowak up?’
‘Thanks, Jim, I really appreciate this,’ he said, leaving for the robing room. He checked his watch – he had twenty minutes.
It didn’t take long to find Styles on the internet, email his picture over to chambers with instructions to bring copies to court. He googled the Editors’ Code of Practice, taking in as much detail as he could. Jack’s head was spinning. How was he going to capitalize on this new information?
Robed up, iPad in hand, he headed down to court. The others were waiting for him in their usual conference room.
‘We’ve got some concerns,’ Statham began. ‘We think you should have gone in harder with the complainant.’
Jack shot Statham a withering look.
Nowak was deteriorating fast. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin had turned a greyish colour.
‘Gustaw,’ said Jack. ‘I stumbled on some new information last night that might help us. It’s a bit late, but I’ll see what I can do.’
Desperate for good news, Nowak thanked his barrister without asking more.
‘What’s this information?’ Statham demanded.
Jack ignored him, and on hearing the tannoy, went into court.
McVey explained that the prosecution were ready to call the final witness, a police officer, to read out the defendant’s interview. At the same moment, a clerk from chambers came panting into the courtroom and handed Jack the copied photos of Styles.
Jack jumped up. ‘My Lord, before the jury come in, I have an application.’
Skart half-raised an eyebrow.
‘My Lord will recall my cross-examination of Miss Riley about the man at the bar?’
