The Aladdin Trial

by Abi Silver

  ‘You think Chambers will go in hard?’

  ‘Definitely. Look at how he baited Ahmad about his daughter. He did it on purpose, you know. I could have warned Ahmad it might happen.’ Judith bit her lip. ‘Ah. Too late now. There is one thing that bothers me though, about Dr Lewis’ evidence, but I think it’s unhelpful to Ahmad to raise it.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘He said there was no blood. Do you remember that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No blood on the railing, in the staff room, in the corridor.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t know how they would have bound up Barbara’s foot after her operation, but I can’t help thinking that if she had walked down the corridor, leaning on that foot, there would have been some traces of blood, however small. Oh, who knows? They might have cleaned again first thing, before the body was found.’

  ‘Listen, Judith, I want to suggest something you won’t like but, well, just hear me out.’

  ‘Ah, I sense a heartfelt emotional plea.’

  ‘Stop it! You think this has all been wrong too, from the very beginning. Can’t we do something to redress the balance for Ahmad, not just get him some measly acquittal?’

  ‘Measly acquittal? You mean save him from a life sentence and his family from a life of penury?’

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘We’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve had one good day. Seymour is notoriously perverse and…’

  ‘I thought you said he was straightforward.’

  ‘I was trying to be optimistic. And Chambers is clever. I don’t want him cross-examining Ahmad. It will be a disaster. It’s bad enough me taking him through things.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, Connie. You play back today’s transcript. He’s so earnest, so keen to explain everything. Chambers will chop him up into tiny pieces. We need to stop things before then, if we have enough material to use.’

  ‘Ahmad deserves more,’ Constance protested. ‘If you won’t do it because it’s the right thing to do, then just think about Chambers’ face.’

  ‘That’s a comment unbecoming of you; please retract it.’

  ‘OK, I’m sorry if I suggested that you were motivated by anything other than the desire to help our client. I am, really.’

  Judith closed her notepad.

  ‘What are you suggesting we do?’

  ‘We tell the Qabbanis’ story in court.’

  ‘We don’t even know their story. What if we don’t like it once we hear it?’

  ‘We know now Ahmad was a doctor and he had to leave Syria. We put Aisha on the stand. She tells the rest.’

  ‘She can’t speak.’

  ‘She can. She just chooses not to. When I was over there the other night I heard her speak; only whispering, but definitely talking. And Shaza let slip that her mother talks to her, sometimes.’

  ‘Ahmad will go berserk. He hyperventilated when her name was mentioned and he would have garrotted Chambers if he could have, when he talked about Social Services.’

  ‘I think you’re underestimating Ahmad. He coped when you told everyone he was a doctor. More than that; he rose to the occasion.’

  ‘It’s a massive risk. And I’m not sure it’s admissible evidence.’

  ‘You can get anything in, Judith, you know you can. And Seymour is interested. You saw his face at the end today. He loved the Aladdin stuff. That’s why he let you ask about the forms and about Morrison. He wants to know their story, why Ahmad is the way he is. And I’ve been doing some research; he’s a good judge for defendants. He hates trumped-up cases. He’ll help us.’

  Judith opened her note book once more.

  ‘I can’t do it. It’s too risky. We don’t know what she’ll say or how Ahmad will respond. We stick to the rules and we go for the acquittal.’

  ‘Will you at least think about it, please? I need to head off somewhere for the next hour or so. I’ll meet you back at my office at 6:30.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I want to talk to Lottie Li again. She’s on duty this evening but she says she will see me just before her shift starts.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘OK. Message me if you find anything useful. I’ll head downstairs now, before they take Ahmad away for the night.’

  53

  Tracy had seen Brian leave court just before lunch and return during the afternoon session. She was determined to get his attention this time. She caught him on the steps of the court house at the end of the day.

  ‘Brian! Brian! Wait a minute.’

  Brian halted. It would be rude to ignore Tracy, even though he knew it was safer to keep his distance, now he had put various negative events in motion.

  ‘Hello Tracy.’

  ‘Brian. I’ve left you messages. Didn’t you get them?’

  ‘Oh, my damned secretary. She’s forgetful sometimes. Funny how the case is going, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s very funny, especially not what we heard today. I just want it to be finished and that man in prison. I don’t want to talk about it till that’s done. Listen, do you have an hour to spare? I want to take you to Mum’s. There’s something there you need to see. We could get a taxi now, if you have time.’

  Brian was going to refuse but then his curiosity got the better of him. And, at worst, he would get some intelligence on the new lock situation. If only he had brought the diaries with him, he could have tried to return them surreptitiously now.

  * * *

  Twenty-five minutes later, Tracy unlocked the door to Barbara’s flat.

  ‘There’s a surprise here for you,’ she said. ‘I hope you like it. Come in and see.’

  They entered the flat and she led Brian through to the lounge area. There, propped up on the sofa was the portrait Barbara had painted of him. Brian stopped dead in his tracks, then his knees went weak. If the sofa had not been close at hand to prop him up, he might have fallen.

  ‘Pick it up if you like. It is good, isn’t it? I’ve been through the whole lot and I think it’s probably her best. You could hang it in your office.’

  Brian reached out and stroked the edge of the canvas. The portrait was truly magnificent. He loved it; he loved it almost as much as he had loved Barbara.

  ‘How long do you think it took Barbara to paint?’ he asked shakily.

  ‘Days,’ Tracy replied, hoping that was the right answer (in reality she had no idea how long her mother had spent on these things, but she suspected they were painted hurriedly, like most things in Barbara’s life). ‘Or even weeks,’ she added.

  ‘Do you really like it?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Yes, I really do,’ Tracy replied. ‘It’s a perfect tribute to you and to Mum’s skill. She loved to paint with real feeling. She must have felt truly indebted to you for all your hard work. Joe and I, we want you to have it. Barbara would have wanted you to have it. Like I said, it will look lovely in your office. But there’s something else too. Wait a minute.’

  She rummaged around in the top drawer of the desk and then handed Brian the letter she had found in a shoe box in Barbara’s wardrobe.

  ‘This is for you, from Mum. I’ll just do some tidying in the bedroom, let you read it on your own,’ she said kindly.

  Brian held the letter with trembling fingers. He was overwhelmed. Barbara had not only thought about him, she had spent many hours painting him. She might have prepared drafts, sketches in pencil, pen and ink or charcoal, and this was the culmination of hundreds of hours of effort. He had heard it had taken Michelangelo four years of constant work to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. No one had ever paid him such a compliment.

  The letter was short and written in Barbara’s erratic, spidery
hand.

  Dear Brian

  You have always been such a good friend and I know you might have wanted to be more. I’m not great with men. All the ones I tried to love found me too stifling or inattentive or frivolous or loud. You stayed constant all these years and for that I am eternally grateful. I know that you will look after the interests of my children and grandchildren in the same loyal and unselfish way you have looked after me.

  Take care always

  Love

  Barbara

  When Tracy returned from the bedroom a respectful amount of time later, she found Brian, the portrait and the letter had gone.

  54

  ‘Lottie. You were so great in court. A real professional,’ Constance began, knowing this was how Judith would have done things to butter up a witness, even though she was privately seething at Lottie’s change of allegiance.

  ‘Thanks.’ Lottie was appreciative in her response, oblivious to the offence she had caused Constance.

  ‘Can I get you a coffee? You must get tired working so late.’

  ‘No. It’s OK. I am used to it. I have just a few minutes before I start work.’

  ‘Yes, of course. This will be quick. Shall we sit down over here?’

  Lottie and Constance were in the café on the ground floor. It had closed earlier but a machine could be operated manually to buy tea or coffee after hours, in desperate straits.

  ‘Lottie, did someone tell you not to return my calls? I had asked you to be a witness for Ahmad. Do you remember?’

  Lottie lowered her eyes.

  ‘I feel very ashamed,’ she said, ‘but Dr Mahmood, he told me that I should not help Ahmad.’

  ‘Dr Mahmood?’

  ‘Yes. He said not to be a witness for him and not to say we were friends.’

  ‘Is that why Maia, the other cleaner, isn’t here too?’

  ‘I don’t know. One day she was cleaning, the next day she was gone.’

  ‘Did he explain to you why you shouldn’t help Ahmad?’

  ‘He said Ahmad was on trial for murder and the hospital shouldn’t get involved in defending him. We should let the police investigate and they would find out what happened.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I am sorry but I am not sure I could help so much anyway. Will you tell Ahmad I am sorry?’

  ‘Yes, I will. Listen, one more thing. Judith didn’t ask you about Ahmad’s family. Of course, it isn’t relevant really, but I wanted to know. Did he ever talk about his family?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He didn’t talk to you about parents or brothers and sisters or about his wife, Aisha, not ever?’

  ‘No.’ Lottie answered. Then, as if she had suddenly made a decision, she said, ‘But his daughter did.’

  ‘You’ve met his daughter, Shaza?’

  ‘Oh yes. Lots of times.’

  Constance swallowed hard.

  ‘But how?’

  ‘He used to bring her, if there was no one to care for her at home.’

  ‘To the hospital?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe seven or eight times. She would come and sit in the room, you know, the one Mrs Hennessy…the staff room, and do colouring and I braided her hair in my break. She liked that. She said her mum did that too.’

  ‘Why do you think he brought her those times?’

  ‘It could be school holidays, I don’t know.’

  ‘Did you ask Shaza why she came?’

  ‘Yes, so she would say Mum’s not well today and Suzy – that’s the lady who looks after her – has to go to work.’

  ‘Was it allowed?’

  ‘No, but no one said anything. She was a sweet girl.’

  ‘She stayed inside all those hours?’

  ‘Yes. I did say I will take her for a walk in my lunch hour but Ahmad said “no”. He was worried she would get lost.’

  ‘When was the last time she was at the hospital?’

  ‘It was around the time Mrs Hennessy died.’

  ‘Would you be able to check exactly which day it was?’

  Lottie thought for a moment.

  ‘It was the Thursday, the day of Mrs Hennessy’s operation, because I had to do a double shift. I was there early and I didn’t finish till late – even later than Ahmad – around ten. But she only stayed a couple of hours. The neighbour, Suzy, came and collected her in the afternoon.’

  * * *

  When Judith spoke to Ahmad after the day had ended she found him quiet and sad.

  ‘Did you have anything to tell me, any observations from the day?’

  Ahmad did not answer.

  ‘Oh come on. Nothing? I think we had a pretty good day.’

  He swallowed noisily.

  ‘OK. I’m sorry I sprung the doctor stuff on you. I should’ve told you before that we knew. Why did you keep it hidden that you were a doctor anyway?’

  ‘I would have lost my job. No doctor wants another doctor washing their floors, watching what they’re doing.’

  ‘They might have helped you get on the course?’

  ‘You’ve seen them. You really believe that? Listen Miss Burton, I…’ Ahmad’s eyes filled with tears and his voice quivered.

  ‘What?’ Judith was on her guard.

  Ahmad’s shoulders began to jerk and he lay his head in his beautiful, willowy hands.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I was thinking maybe I did it?’ he whispered, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘No!’ Judith replied, horrified at Ahmad’s words.

  ‘No, listen. I don’t remember the stuff in the train station, but I know it’s happened to me before. I get this cold feeling and time passes and I don’t know what I do in that time. But then, like Dr Atkins said, afterwards I’m not cold, I’m hot and sweating and my heart is beating so fast. Maybe I didn’t leave the hospital but instead I killed Mrs Hennessy. Or at least took her rings. I don’t remember but it’s possible, isn’t it? That’s what Dr Atkins said.’

  ‘No. I don’t think it’s possible. You took the train home.’

  ‘But I had time. How long would it take to walk down the corridor?’

  ‘Without anyone seeing you? Nurse Li was sitting in there when you left. No.’

  ‘I am thinking, Miss Burton, that I should just say I am guilty and then this will all stop. You, in court, you are just doing your job. I think you enjoy it, the talking and arguing and telling the other lawyer he is mistaken. And Constance is listening and writing and staring at me in case I do something wrong. For me, every word is like a knife. I want it to stop. This could be what I should do.’

  Judith’s phone rang in her pocket and she rose stiffly to take Constance’s hurried call, all the time keeping a close eye on Ahmad, and horrified by the sentiments he had just expressed. When she returned to Ahmad she could not suppress the excitement in her voice.

  ‘That was Connie,’ she began, touching his shoulder lightly so that he raised his head and wiped his eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ He was calmer now.

  ‘She has been talking to Lottie, Nurse Li. Lottie wanted you to know she was sorry she couldn’t help you more.’

  Ahmad shrugged. Judith took a deep breath.

  ‘I apologise if I have not appreciated before now how hard this is for you. You are right; this is my job and I sometimes forget how alien a place a courtroom can be for other people. I even enjoy making them feel uncomfortable, if it’s going to help my case, well, your case.

  ‘I can’t be absolutely certain that you didn’t kill Mrs Hennessy but my instinct and all the facts I have before me tell me that you waved goodbye to her that evening and went quietly home. I am not telling the court that because it’s my job. I am doing it because it’s what I believe. Now, what Lottie just told us, I think it is going to help sort this mess out. So don’t
even think of repeating what you said to me to anyone else, OK? Now please listen to me carefully, and answer carefully. Why didn’t you tell us you took Shaza to the hospital sometimes?’

  Ahmad’s eyes widened.

  ‘You didn’t ask me.’

  Judith tutted loudly and rolled her eyes. Then she reined back the sarcastic comments which were forming in her mouth.

  ‘Lottie says Shaza was with you on the Thursday Mrs Hennessy died. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. She came in the morning. Aisha was ill. I couldn’t leave her. They had some teacher’s day off. Then Suzy was nearby. She collected her early in the afternoon.’

  ‘When Shaza was at the hospital, that day, do you think she might have gone wandering around, into any of the patients’ rooms, into Mrs Hennessy’s room?’

  Ahmad was quiet again, but this time he was focused, dredging back into his memory to find the right images. After a full minute he made a choking noise at the back of his throat.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I mean, of course she had many chances and I would not know. But on that day, she had her school bag full of colouring and some homework, and now I remember, when Suzy arrived it was hard to find Shaza. She wasn’t in the staff room. Lottie found her on the ward. And when I got home much later, she had her schoolbag up in her bedroom and I thought that was strange because she usually leaves it in the hallway. Oh no. She must have…you mustn’t blame Shaza. She is only nine years old. I don’t want you to blame her. Please, Miss Burton. I will say it was me.’

  Judith patted Ahmad on the shoulder gently. She wanted to tell him that everything would be all right but she couldn’t find the words.

  55

  One hour later Constance and Judith were standing outside the Qabbanis’ house. Constance knocked lightly and Mrs Qabbani answered the door.

  ‘Sorry to come by so late,’ Constance began. ‘This is Judith. She’s the lawyer representing Ahmad in court. Can we talk to Shaza please? It’s important. You can be with us all the time. I promise we won’t frighten her.’