Beyond the Realms

by Gill Mather

  “I hope not. But you must be prepared for what others may think. Not just what you know happened. As I say, just stick to what actually happened.”

  Orielle then spent ten minutes or so going over more general details with him, his background, previous job, any previous convictions (none apparently), general circumstances, etc.

  ORIELLE DIDN’T LEAVE the station until ten thirty. Jim wasn’t charged or bailed and had to spend the night in a cell so Hugh or one of the others would have to take it up the following day. She went home and spent another two hours drinking coffee and typing up her notes of the interview and a statement. Triss was in bed asleep. There being no property in a witness, she thought she’d suggest to Hugh that she should interview the neighbour who’d seen the torch light and do so as soon as possible. And other neighbours. And she would look online at Jim’s title on the Land Registry website and see what it said about services. The reason for the dispute on this occasion may not be of huge importance but it had to be covered. And she’d get out and brush up her old land law notes and check on what “unity of something or other” was all about.

  THE NEXT EVENING as soon as she could after work, Orielle mentioned Jim Bolton's case to Triss to see what he thought. You never knew, he might be able to throw some fresh insight into the case and think of something she had overlooked. He was terminally bored as it was now that he couldn't go to work at PWT, afraid that he might be too unreliable. Having been scathing about tax avoidance before, he now missed the work. Nor could he go to the University much. Some mornings Orielle took him there early and went to collect him in the evening or lunchtime but she was worried about leaving him there on his own. She researched the effects of brain tumours on the internet at work and some sites said that there'd be memory loss, blank moments, things like forgetting where he was or was supposed to be. What if he wandered off somewhere? She bought him a cheap mobile and sent him texts all the time trying to keep them light and if possible funny but it was difficult. And of course he knew perfectly well what she was about.

  So she thought he might enjoy mulling over Jim's case and how they could help him. She was as sure as she could be that Jim hadn't actually hurt the old Solicitor. She gave Triss a copy of her notes and statement and left him to it the next day.

  TRISS WAS READY with some ideas when Orielle got home that evening. Orielle flung her bag down and sat down to listen.

  "You've probably thought of it already, but you could concentrate on the timing of what happened that night," he said.

  "What you mean when Jim got home, that sort of thing."

  "More or less. Since I've nothing else to do, I spend a lot of my time watching dismal afternoon B movies on the TV and quite a lot of them are murder mysteries as they call them. They often focus on the exact time of the injury or death and what the suspect was doing at that time; if the suspect would have had enough time to have committed the crime. That sort of thing."

  "I don't know. The neighbour opposite, Madge, isn't very specific about the time she saw Jim walk to Sharpe's house. She didn't really look at her clock properly. But there's no dispute anyway that Jim went there."

  "Yes but there might be other evidence of times or indicative of times. For example, when we used to do those quiz evenings together, the pubs had CCTV in them. Insurers insist on it, to make sure the staff aren't taking money from the till and so on. There's likely to have been a timed video recording of when Sharpe actually left the pub and you can work out roughly how long it would have taken him to get home."

  "I suppose. But he's old. He'd probably have taken longer than most people. And the evidence was he was quite drunk."

  "Well the fact that he was drunk would help in itself, more likely to have fallen over you know. But the pub was only just around the corner. No roads to cross. I looked it up on the internet. It would only have taken a few minutes. You could see how long it would take you and double it."

  "I suppose," she said again. "But that still wouldn't mean Jim didn’t get back himself and go round there at just the time Sharpe got to his front door."

  "Maybe Jim has GPS in his car. If he did, you could probably fix the time he got home and stopped the car from that. The neighbour said the car door slamming woke her up. Though of course it might have been another car. It's not impossible that someone else arrived back in their car around about that time. Anyway, the point is if the timing worked out that Jim's car didn't arrive back at his house until well after Sharpe would have got to his front door, that would help Jim's case wouldn't it?"

  "Maybe." Orielle knew that juries didn’t like clever arguments about timing that simply threw doubt on what had happened when. That's what Hugh said anyway. He preferred if possible to go into court with something more concrete. Daytime TV murder mysteries were all very well, but this was the real world.

  "I know it's only TV," said Triss, "but in some of these movies the time of death or injury is fixed by a watch being broken and showing a particular time. `Course some of the movies are several decades old and people mostly don’t wear wrist watches any more, but this was a reactionary old man from what you say. He may well have worn a watch and it may well have been damaged and stopped when he fell over. Or so might his mobile phone for that matter if he had one. What about Jim's house? It might have had a smart meter that might have shown when the lights were first switched on."

  "I doubt it. He said being an old house it didn’t even have wiring to switch the landing light off and on from the hall and vice versa. I shouldn't think it had a smart meter."

  "Well these things are just examples. Ask Jim himself if there's anything he can think of. By the sound of it he's not going to be much help on his own. You're going to have to suggest things to him. Maybe he got in and switched his mobile off or set the alarm on it for next day or something. These little gadgets record everything. Perhaps he called his daughter to say he was home safely."

  "It would have been a bit late to have woken her up with an ‘arrived safely’ call."

  "Why are you being so negative?" Triss said. "You're not usually like this about work."

  Orielle's bottom lip started to quiver. He got up from the table where he was sitting with the paperwork, came round to her side and put his arm round her.

  "It's me isn't it."

  "No," she lied. "I'm just tired." She paused and looked up at him. “Triss. Can't you just think your illness away. If you can make other people do things, surely you can do that.”

  "No I can't. I don't have the ability to alter matter.” He sighed. “Shall I walk up the road and get us both a McDonalds? The only good thing about this tumour I've got is that it's given me an enormous appetite." He could say the word "tumour" matter-of-factly. Orielle winced slightly. He did look ridiculously healthy she thought looking up at him. But he'd just been so thin before.

  "I'm not hungry," she said.

  "Georgie would probably like one."

  "Oh all right then, but I'll drive us."

  "Good. I'll leave her a note."

  "COME ON JIM. Surely you can think of something." Jim was in Orielle's small office having to have teased out of him any little snippets that might go to his defence and set him miles away from Sharpe's home at the time Sharpe would have arrived at his property himself. But it was an uphill struggle. Like shelling clams as Georgie would have put it. Orielle had already established that Sharpe left the pub at ten twenty five. Triss had been right about the CCTV in the pub which showed Sharpe leaving and walking unsteadily but still quite briskly out through the car park and back towards his house. Orielle had re-traced his steps herself and it took her only three and a half minutes walking quite slowly to reach Sharpe's gate and walk up his path. So he would have been likely to have arrived home no later than ten thirty, say ten thirty five at the latest. What was proving much more difficult was finding out where Jim was at that time. He wasn’t sure quite what time he got home. No his SatNav was broken. No he hadn't made any calls when he got hom
e or set his alarm on his mobile (he had wanted to sleep in the next day after the long drive - fat chance of that he said as it turned out) and he certainly hadn't got a smart meter. He had laughed at the mere mention of it.

  "OK," Orielle said, "the next day you were arrested before you had a chance to do very much. But if you hadn't been, what would you have done?" She was clearly grasping at straws here.

  "I'd have gone and got some shopping in. I'd been away. I had no fresh stuff in the house. My daughter's always on at me to…."

  "So where do you normally go to shop?"

  "Well I try and shop at the new farm shop, support him like. It's nice stuff. He's having a bit of a time getting going though. It was just spuds at first but now he's got a freezer full of meat and he sells carrots and cabbages and….."

  "Where's this Jim?"

  "About half a mile away." Orielle sighed. This wasn't taking them anywhere.

  "What else would you have done?"

  "Well I make my own bread. In one of them bread-making machines. And I get milk delivered. That's another dying service you know. You have to support them. It's just every few days and I have to pay him on the day of delivery. The bloke was due to come that morning and he doesn’t only deliver milk. There's orange juice and cakes and bread - though I make my own bread usually but sometimes……"

  "OK Jim. So you pay by card or what?" She was barely interested but you never knew. It might throw up something pertinent. He clearly wasn’t going to search his memory himself for anything relevant.

  "Oh no. They want cash. The farm shop hasn’t got round to getting a card reader and that yet. And the milkman wants cash. He can't carry any fancy contraptions around with him."

  "And you would have had enough cash in the house to pay for your shopping?"

  "Oh no. I don’t keep a lot of cash in the house or on me normally. I draw my pension in cash but that's on a Thursday. This was a Wednesday." Again this was leading nowhere.

  "So where would you have got the cash from?" Presumably a service area on the A1 or perhaps back in his daughter's home town during his visit.

  "Barclay at Manningtree of course. That's where I always get my cash out. At the cash point there."

  Orielle sat up in her chair. At last here was something useful, potentially case-breaking. Manningtree was about a fifteen minute drive away from the village where Jim and Sharpe lived.

  "So that's where you would have got the cash out. So did you get the cash out that night, the night Sharpe was injured, the day before you would have done your shopping, when you were on your way back from your daughter's?"

  "Oh aye. You can park outside that time of night."

  "Er, Jim, do you have the withdrawal slip?"

  "I never get one. I press "No". I don’t want the clutter of a…."

  "No. `Course you don’t. So have you got online banking so we could download a statement showing the withdrawal and about what time it was.”

  “No I don't.” This was really tortuous.

  “Jim, how often do you get statements from the bank?”

  “Once a month.”

  “Right Jim. And when was the last time you got a statement?” Orielle tried not to sound too exasperated. The whole experience had been traumatic for him. Even when he was released from the police station, he hadn't been able to go home for several days while a forensic team went over his house with a fine toothcomb. He couldn't leave Colchester either and go and stay with his daughter. She’d had the baby in his absence and he hadn't seen it yet. A little girl Orielle understood. So he’d had to stay at a faceless, featureless chain hotel. When Orielle asked him which hotel, he hadn't even been able to remember the name. The man in front of her wasn't thick but he must be trying to avoid thinking properly about his situation. He just couldn't think in terms of being found guilty of a murder or attempted murder. It was completely outside his sphere of experience. Something that couldn't happen as far as he was concerned. So he was trying to ignore it. She said as much to Jim. The alternative was to start nagging him, telling him off even and risk alienating him.

  Jim nodded and put one hand up to his forehead and rubbed it while shaking his head. He sniffed.

  “Aye, lass. I know you’re just trying to do your best for me and you’ve been very patient. It’s just I can't…..I just can't…..” and he started to sob, managing to look embarrassed at the same time.

  “Jim. It doesn't matter. It’s good for you to get it of your chest.” She reached over and touched his arm.

  “If my Dotty were still alive, this would never have happened.” Mindful, ever mindful of her own situation, Orielle wanted to burst into tears too but the job demanded professionalism. You weren't really a human being she sometimes thought, just a machine to deal with peoples’ cases.

  But Jim was going on: “She would never have let me go round there. `Course,” he laughed mirthlessly, “I wouldn't have sodding well been living there at all if she hadn't died.” Yes, thought Orielle, death changed everything. Like love. It had to. She pulled herself together for the time being.

  “Jim. Sorry but the bank statements. The last one. When did you get it?”

  “About a month previously.”

  “So….?”

  “There’s one at home now I haven't opened yet. It’s just come this morning.”

  “Could you go home and get it and bring it here later do you think?”

  “Yes I’ll do that.”

  “You know what it means Jim don't you? I reckon Sharpe got home no later than ten thirty five that night. So if your cash withdrawal shows you couldn't have been back at your home by that time, then it’ll hopefully prove you didn't do anything to Sharpe.”

  “Aye. I suppose so. But see, I know I didn't hurt him anyway.”

  “I know you didn't Jim.”

  “Lass. That means more to me than anything.” And he started to cry again.

  THE BANK STATEMENT was duly produced later in the day. It showed the cash withdrawal having been made just after eleven pm. Orielle took it to Hugh, and the pub CCTV evidence.

  “You have been busy,” he said. “I’ll think about it but unfortunately an application to the Crown Court to have the case dismissed for lack of evidence isn't really appropriate here. There’s certainly evidence against him. Plenty of it from what I’ve been reading. Unfortunately I think there’ll have to be full trial. We have evidence to actually hopefully disprove Jim Bolton’s guilt. I’m not sure what’s the best thing to do. As I say I’ll have to think about it. We could use it to try and persuade the prosecution to drop the charge but I doubt if it’ll work. Old Sharpe doesn't seem to be getting any better and he’s the only one if he were to come round with his marbles intact to tell us if Jim really did hit him or push him over. That seems less and less likely now. And handing over info won't help Jim at the trial. Forewarned is forearmed. Sometimes a proper hearing helps people anyway. It gets reported. They feel properly vindicated. If a prosecution is just quietly dropped, people may always wonder.”

  “Well for what it’s worth, I think Jim’ll leave the area anyway after all this and go and live near his daughter.”

  “OK. Well better get on. I’ll come back to you about it.”

  CHAPTER 18

  ORIELLE HAD BEEN sitting in on Brad Adams's trial. It had taken a lot longer to come up than expected. There were quite a lot of prosecution witnesses, some of whom were school students. The case kept getting put back. It was difficult to agree on dates because of exams, illness and holidays for the students and on the part of police officers, mysterious trips abroad on the part of Brad himself, and so on. There were also other defendants being tried for drug dealing the same night and Hugh had got Brad's case separated from them so it would be heard alone. Also after those other cases were heard, he tried to get the case dropped altogether on the basis of lack of sufficient evidence but the prosecution were determined to continue probably as a deterrent to others to try dealing at local schools. After tha
t Hugh had wanted to have as little to do with the case as possible. He'd formed an increasingly dim view of Brad and he didn’t even know what Triss had said about him being a sadist and snuff movie-maker. Hugh couldn't wait to get shot of the case. So much so that he wouldn't do the final hearing and didn’t want anyone at The Chambers to have to do it either. Thus exceptionally an outside barrister was instructed obviously at some cost to The Chambers since Brad was still on pro bono. Hugh had sworn when Orielle had told him the fee, recalling that Brad according to his aunt, had almost no mortgage.

  "I bet the bastard could easily afford to pay for his representation. Probably better than I can. Bastard!"

  Accordingly Orielle was sent to sit behind counsel, having had very little to do with the case since seeing Brad back in the autumn which had suited her very well. Several prosecution witnesses were still unavailable and the prosecuting Solicitor was unaccountably weak. Perhaps because he had been brought in at the last moment. Orielle hadn't liked the look of him. He was plump and greasy looking with thick lips, piggy eyes and no eyelashes. He'd spoken in an oily voice. He looked like a pervert Orielle thought illogically. His cross-examination of Brad had been weak to pathetic.

  In truth, there wasn't much concrete evidence against Brad even though his alibi in the form of Pandy had collapsed early on. His online purchases helped a bit but mainly it was just the inconclusive nature of the evidence against him that got him off regardless of how lame or otherwise the prosecuting Solicitor was.

  Orielle knew that as a matter of courtesy she should meet Brad after the verdict, congratulate him and say goodbye but her instinct was to get as far as possible away from him. She was walking fast to her car therefore thinking she had avoided him when she heard steps behind her. She carried on however resisting the urge to look round and was nearly at her car when the man caught up with her and put himself determinedly between her and her car. Why she thought wasn’t she that surprised to see it was Brad. He smiled at her despite the overtly threatening pose. It was the first time she'd actually seen him smile. It wasn’t manifestly unpleasant but not reassuring either. It suggested overwhelmingly to her that he wanted something especially since his attitude towards her during their previous meetings had been dismissive and offhand.