Chapter 19
The courthouse was a lot fuller than MacAllister could remember having seen before for a case involving hit and run, even if the victim was dead. The public gallery was full to bursting and most of its occupants carried themselves in a manner that screamed, “Press” at him. It was only to be expected. Since his fracas, no lets call it what it was, since his assault on Howlett Senior the subsequent newspaper publicity; the tabloid press had considered the case absolutely red hot. Headlines had announced many variations on the theme “senior policeman assaults garage owner father of his daughters alleged killer.” It was exactly the sort of publicity that turned the judge and the jury against any evidence the police could bring to bear, all because his stupid action had changed the direction of the case. The public sympathy that should have been for Kirsty was now for Rex Howlett.
He looked at the jury, those twelve good men and true, except seven of them were women. Their faces were curiously blank of emotion as if they'd had their feelings surgically removed before entering the courthouse. MacAllister knew this was a normal syndrome of people who had just been given what was probably to be the biggest responsibility of their lives. They would recover when the trial was properly underway and their deep-seated prejudices, those we all keep hidden inside us, would finally decide the verdict they arrived at, those and the strength and opinions of the foreman along with the performance of the Barristers. The Judge, Mr. Justice Bentine, was at this moment explaining to them exactly what the charge against the plaintiff was and how the police had to prove their case beyond reasonable doubt, Jason Howlett having only admitted to being in the car and driving it at the time of the incident, but on the advice of his legal representative making no further comment or statement.
At this point in time that young man was sitting back in his seat looking slightly bored with the whole procedures and stifling occasional yawns. This pleased MacAllister, as he knew no Judge liked anyone to take his or her appearance before him or her as anything other than highly serious. Justice Bentine came to an end of his talk to the jury and called an adjournment for lunch. Everybody scrambled to their feet and waited until he had left the courtroom before them selves hurrying off to find a bite to eat in the various pubs and hostelries that seem to spring up around such places like mushrooms.
MacAllister waited until the court was almost empty and then headed down beneath the main courtroom to where the police had their offices. He had been called as a witness by the prosecution, although Bill Reid had made sure that was his only connection with the case and he wanted to check his evidence with Clive Sayers. He rapped on the door of the police office and walked in. Clive Sayers and Marcus Lomax were sat at a table sharing a flask of coffee and munching thick sandwiches from a large paper bag. Sayers nodded at him and pointed to the bag.
“Have a Doc Pep special, Guvnor. Tuna and tomato.”
The Doc Pep sandwich bar made the best sandwiches in Bristol. MacAllister peered into the bag and decided he was hungry. He pulled out half a round of well-stuffed sandwich and took a large bite, grinning at Lomax who seemed nervous to see him there. Evidently they had received instructions to keep him at arms length. He turned to Sayers.
“Not going to drop you in the shit if I am found sharing your lunch, is it, Clive?”
Sayers gave him a hard stare.
“I decide who I lunch with and if I can lunch with some of the snouts I've eaten with for the good of the force, I reckon I can share a sandwich with you, John.”
MacAllister felt a warm glow of gratitude flood through him. Clive Sayers was a decent bloke who didn't turn from his friends no matter who made the rules. Sayers took a swallow of coffee and continued.
“I am really sorry to hear you are going, Guvnor, end of the week isn't it. I reckon the bastards have given you a really rough deal.”
Marcus Lomax made a slight choking sound, got up and made his excuses to leave and do a bit of shopping. He didn't mind taking a small chance, but Sayers was talking treason and he had a career to think of. MacAllister watched him go with a sardonic smile on his face.
“You have gone and frightened young Marcus now, Clive. You now he gets nervous about breaking the rules.” He sat in the vacated chair. “How are we going to do on this one?”
Sayers leaned back in the chair and considered the question before he answered.
“There is something I can't quite put my finger on that is worrying me. They are too relaxed for my liking.”
He sat up and leaned towards the other.
“Look Guvnor, this kid steals a high powered car using keys he has stolen from his father's garage. He then hits another car and drives on without stopping. Ten minutes later he is seen by us and knows we are on to him. Does he give it up and go quietly? Does he hell. He screams up on the sidewalk drives through a bus queue and injures three young women, one of whom subsequently dies of her injuries. Again, he doesn't stop and only gets caught when he dumps the car in the wrong part of the river and the tide goes out and reveals it.”
He paused for breath and sat back again.
“That's two hit and runs, plus injuries and a manslaughter or death by reckless driving. In my book and he should be breaking out the brown trousers, but none of them, him, his parents or his barrister, John Braniggan, seem too worried about it. I don't like it. I also do not understand why they have brought this come to court with a Barrister of Brannigan's stature. They have pleaded guilty so why not just get on with it. After all, Brannigan's last three defences were for two murders and the rape of a ten-year old girl. He seems a bit heavy for a simple hit and run.”
MacAllister nodded.
“I can see what you mean. They are probably trying to get a softening of his sentence and his old man can afford to pay for Brannigan, God only knows. That Ford dealership must bring in a fair amount of money and have you seen that house they live in. Besides, perhaps they think the fact that I banged his old mans head against a pub wall will make a difference and they think Brannigan's the man to take advantage of that.”
Sayers sighed.
“I hope that's all it is, Guvnor. I can't see that he will get less than a year inside whatever reason they give for what he did.”
MacAllister frowned.
“What's the Judge like? I have never seen this one before?”
“Don't know, Guv. He has only been at it a couple of years and I believe this is his first case involving a death so there is no known form on sentencing worth talking about.”
They sat in companionable silence while MacAllister finished off the sandwiches that Marcus Lomax had abandoned. Then he left the police office before someone else came in and Sayers loyalty cost him more than he could afford. He wandered around the city centre for a while, killing time until the court came back for the afternoon session. When he returned he found his timing was excellent for he had just taken his seat when they were asked to rise again for the entrance of Mr. Justice Bentine.
Chief Inspector George Masters, sitting in for the sick Jack Roper was seated at the prosecution table, but MacAllister could see that it was Clive Sayers who was doing all the talking to the prosecution council, George Sangrin. Sangrin was a tall and severe looking man with a beaky nose and fierce deep set eyes almost hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. It would not have taken a great leap of imagination to picture him in Judge Jeffrey's time, sending the peasants to the gallows by the cartload. However, he was a good prosecutor and knew his stuff even if he was lacking in charisma. He started off by repeating the charges against Jason Howlett, who MacAllister noted was today dressed in the burgundy blazer and grey flannel trousers of his expensive private school. The earring had also gone and the football star haircut had suddenly turned into a smart and tidy, short back and sides. MacAllister gave a cynical little smile and concentrated on what Sangrin was saying.
First of all Sangrin called on several eyewitnesses to the incident. All gave an almost similar version of what had happened, but none of them could identify t
he driver of the car. Next Sangrin called the two other girls who had been injured along with Kirsty. Sharon Hopwood had been the less injured of the three and had obviously prepared for her day in the spotlight with more than usual care. Her make up was of film star quality, her hair perfect and her dress stunning. As a helpless victim she didn't reach first base and Sangrin took her very quickly through what had happened and then dismissed her as quickly as was reasonably politic. The second girl was different.
Jessica Kurly was still using a stick to help her walk and it was obvious that she made a strong impact on the courtroom. Sangrin took her through the series of operations that had been necessary to her injured leg and the further operation, to insert more bone necessary to bring the legs to equal length, that was still to come. The press pencils scribbled furiously and the defence wisely elected not to cross-examine. Then he called Marcus Lomax. Lomax took the stand looking confident, but not cocky. He looked like an efficient professional. Sangrin started his questions.
“You are Detective Constable Marcus Lomax attached to the CID office at Bricewell Station?”
“I am.”
“Can you please take us through the events of the night of Friday 16th September 2004 concerning the incident which led to the arrest of Jason Howlett.”
“On that night at exactly eleven forty six PM, I was in an unmarked police car with Detective Inspector MacAllister, bringing in a suspect for further questioning. We were waiting for the lights at the top of Park street to change to green when we received a radio call instructing all units to be on the look-out for a stolen Ford Focus with a damaged near side wing. The car was bright red and had we had the registration number while we were waiting the said vehicle pulled alongside of us and turned down into Park Street. We followed and caught up with him at the traffic lights at the junction where Crabbe Street joins it from the right and the lights were on red. We gave a short burst on the siren to let the driver of the stolen vehicle know we were on to him and I started to get out of the car to approach the other vehicle.”
Facing the jury and with his back to Lomax, Sangrin asked the question.
“Then what happened?”
“The driver of the other vehicle appeared to panic and as the road in front of the Focus was blocked by traffic he drove up onto the pavement to escape. The pavement is easily wide enough for a car there.”
“He drove his vehicle up onto the pavement?” Sangrin was still facing the jury. “With what result may I ask?”
“ He made it past the lights all right, but when he tried to rejoin the road he was blocked again by a bus and only got halfway off the kerb. He tried to get back onto the pavement and go right round the inside of the bus stop, but he lost control of the vehicle as he mounted the high kerb and slid sideways into a group of people who were about to board the bus, hitting three of them.”
With the fierce eyes still on the jury Sangrin continued.
“And then he stopped?”
“No, Sir. He drove around the bus stop on the pavement, joined the road again and drove off.”
“Knowing he had run someone down he just drove off.”
The objection from John Brannigan and the sustained from Justice Bentine were both predictable and Sangrin rephrased the question.
“In your opinion, Detective Lomax would the driver have realised he had hit someone.”
This time Brannigan's shout of objection was overruled and Lomax gave his answer.
“The sound of the impact when he hit the pedestrians was loud enough where I was and from the damage caused to the car it must have been audible to the driver.”
“In your opinion?”
“Yes, Sir, in my opinion.”
“Thank you, Detective, that will be all.”
Brannigan's cross-examination first covered the state of Lomax's hearing; first class he discovered and then got to the crunch question.
“Detective Lomax, Council for the prosecution just now asked you your opinion on a matter and you were happy to give it. Would you give the court the benefit of your opinion on another matter?”
“If I can sir.”
Brannigan smiled at the court in general.
“I am sure you can, Constable. Would you say that the defendant deliberately ran down those three young ladies in question?”
Lomax looked towards the prosecution table for help, but Brannigan wasn't having it. His voice rang out.
“Answer the question please.”
Lomax's voice was quiet, but clearly audible throughout the courtroom.
“No, Sir. I do not think he ran them down deliberately. I think he lost control.”
“Then you agree it was an accident?”
Sangrin was on his feet like a rocket.
“Objection. Leading the witness.”
“Sustained.”
Brannigan gave in gracefully. He knew the jury would remember his words. He turned again to Lomax.
“One last question. Whose idea was it to use the siren?”
Lomax looked uncomfortable, but had to answer.
“It was Detective Inspector MacAllister's idea, but it is normal procedure.”
“Thank you Constable Lomax, no further questions.”
Sangrin then called MacAllister who duly gave his evidence and Sangrin took the opportunity to raise the subject of the siren and how it was standard procedure to sound it in order to inform suspects that the force of the law would like a few words. Then Brannigan took over.
“Inspector MacAllister I understand that you are not entirely an orthodox policeman in some of your methods, is that true?”
Sangrin was on his feet objecting as soon as the word unorthodox crossed Brannigan's lips. Brannigan waited for him to wind down from the forcefulness of his objections and then addressed himself meekly to Mr Justice Bentine.
“Your Honour. The defence concedes that the plaintiff drove the car that night and was at the wheel at the time of the accident to the three young women. However, we in the defence believe that there were some extenuating circumstances and that the actions of the police did exacerbate the situation quite markedly. That is why I am pursuing this line of questioning.”
“Thank you, Mr Brannigan. Objection overruled.”
Brannigan nodded his thanks and turned back to MacAllister.
“If you would answer the question, Inspector MacAllister.”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon.”
MacAllister stared at him as if he must be deaf before he repeated it.
“No. I don't think I am unorthodox.”
Brannigan's face cleared as he realised that the witness was not refusing to answer his questions. He went on the offensive.
“No, Inspector. No?” He looked amazed. “Am I right in saying that the suspect you had in the car that night was never charged?”
Sangrin's objection and the Judge's overrule were so quick that Brannigan carried on without pause.
“And would I also be right in saying that you had arrested this man on four previous occasions and had to release him without charge?” He continued without waiting for an answer, “that sounds fairly unorthodox to me. Irresponsible even.”
MacAllister just gave him the Kestrel stare which Brannigan ignored as he faced the jury for his next question.
“How long did you sound the siren for, Inspector?”
“I don't recall. Just a short burst I believe.”
“Would you be surprised if I told you it was going for half a minute and was only switched off after the accident, sorry, incident had occurred and the car that Jason Howlett was driving had left the scene.?”
MacAllister wanted to shout at him that he wouldn't have noticed if the bloody world had blow up at that moment, but he just glowered at the other man.
“Are you surprised that Jason Howlett panicked under those circumstances.”
“He still didn't have to drive up on the pavement. The siren does not excuse that.”
Branni
gan seemed to consider that for some moments, then.
“You mean it was not reasonable behaviour in the circumstances?”
MacAllister snapped his reply.
“Of course it wasn't reasonable behaviour.”
Brannigan turned to face the jury.
“Do you think it was any less reasonable than the action you took when you beat his fathers head against a wall enough times to put him in hospital?”
MacAllister didn't answer as he felt the steel of the others trap slam shut around him. Sangrin's objection and Justice Bentine's sustained never registered at all. Brannigan gave him a thin smile.
“Whose decision was it to end your daughter's life, Inspector?”
MacAllister realised where the question was going and with an almighty effort let his professional training take precedence over his emotions.
“My daughter's life was effectively over from the time the car your client was driving smashed her into a lamp post.”
He continued quickly before the other could speak.
“That is not just my opinion, it is the opinion of one of the countries leading neurologists.”
Brannigan nodded.
“But it was your decision to switch off the life support system and yours alone.”
“My wife and I made the decision together.”
“That will be all, Inspector.”
MacAllister went back to his seat blinking away the tears that Brannigan's questions had brought to his eyes.
The following morning Brannigan announced that the defence was only going to call four witnesses, Mr Rex Howlett and three character witnesses for Jason. He started of with Jason's Form Master from the private school he attended, who stated that Jason was a good pupil who had never been in trouble and was well liked by the rest of the staff and boys. Sangrin established that the Form master actually only saw Jason for some two hours a week and then let him go. Next came his ex-Scoutmaster who gave him a similar reference. Again Sangrin did not dispute what the man said, but did establish that Jason had not been to Scouts for eighteen months. Not since his father had bought him a Go Kart and he had joined the local Junior Go Kart League in fact. The last witness was a school friend dressed in the same school uniform, who told the court that Jason was considered a good chap by the rest of the boys and was very popular. Sangrin declined to question. The last witness for the defence was Rex Howlett.
It was obvious from the minute that he took the stand that Rex Howlett was suffering from some deep emotional disturbance. His face was pale and drawn and he had the look of a man who needed a decent nights sleep. His answer to the oath was so quiet that Mr Justice Bentine had to ask him to repeat it, which he did in a slightly louder voice. A murmur of expectation arose as Brannigan stood up to question the witness was quickly silenced by a glare from the bench. Brannigan walked towards the witness box with his whole demeanour expressing sympathy for its occupant. The Prosecution looked at each other. What was going on here then? Brannigan spoke softly to the hunched figure.
“Mr Howlett?”
Howlett raised his head and visibly took a grip upon himself. Brannigan continued while the court waited in expectant silence.
“Mr Howlett, will you tell the court about a previous incident in which Jason drove a motor car that did not belong to him? One that does not figure in this case.”
This caused a buzz of excitement. The Prosecution were stunned. What previous occasion was this, because they knew nothing about it? The court went quiet as Rex Howlett answered.
“About eighteen months ago, on a Saturday morning when only the sales staff were at the garage, I caught Jason driving a customer's car around the back yard where we park the new cars and any others awaiting repair and collection.” His voice grew stronger as he told his story. “He used to come and help get the new cars ready for delivery you see, to earn some pocket money and he had sneaked off during the lunch beak and taken the keys from the office and was driving this car around the yard.”
He gave a mournful little smile.
“Well I gave him the mother and father of a rollicking, especially when it turned out he had been at it for weeks before I caught him and I banned him from the Garage and showrooms. But then I thought about it and I decided if he was that crazy about cars it might be better to channel his desire to drive a bit more productively, if you see what I mean. Anyway, I bought him a Go Kart and we entered him in the local Junior League.”
He gave a small smile of pride at this point.
“He was really good at it. I suppose he gets it from me, the desire to win I mean. He won his class in the first season and was heading it again this year up until a couple of months ago.”
He stuttered to a halt at this point, dropping the head again to his chest and Brannigan came to his rescue.
“What happened then, Mr Howlett?”
The head came up again.
“Well his school work had not been so good this year. He was always a top student and always got straight 'A's in nearly everything, but now a lot a B's and even a C had crept in. It was the racing you see. When he should have been doing his homework and his course work he was down in the garage working on the Kart. If he won the regional league this year he'd get promoted to the National League and that's the first real step on the racing career ladder for most drivers, so everything else was going by the board.”
The head went back down and the voice got quieter.
“I told him if his school work did not improve I would withdraw the Kart from racing.” He explained quickly. “Its entered by the garage you see. Jason is just the driver.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“He didn't believe I would do it. He knew he only needed a few more points from the last two races, just one more fourth place and he was champion and so he didn't believe I would do it. He just ignored me.”
Brannigan's voice was gentle so as not to disturb the atmosphere the story had created.
“So what did you do, Mr Howlett?”
The answer was whispered.
“I withdrew the Kart for the rest of the season and told him if his school work improved he could give it another go next year.”
“When was this, Mr Howlett?”
“Three weeks before he stole the Focus.”
“The act that led to the injury and subsequent death of Kirsty MacAllister?”
Howlett's voice got stronger and he looked at the Barrister with pleading in his eyes.
“It was as much my fault as his, he pleaded with me to let him take part in those last two races, but I wouldn't let him. He promised on his life to do his homework and he did do it for a week until the Saturday of the last race when he asked me again to let him race. But I told him that the decision had been made and he would have to show me that he was serious for more than a week before I would change my mind. He kept on begging me right up until the Thursday before the race when you have to declare your entry, but I wouldn't have it. Then, when it was too late to enter he went out and started stealing cars.”
The man was visibly in tears now and Brannigan's voice was soft and gentle.
“Why do you think he did that, Mr Howlett?”
Howlett did not need to think about it.
“Rage and frustration I should think. He thought I was being unreasonable and that was the only thing he could do to strike back. I don't think he stole the car because he wanted to drive it, I think he wanted to get into trouble because he knew it would hurt me as much as I had hurt him. That's why I say I am to blame as much as he is. We can both be pigheaded, but he is just a boy and I am a grown man. It was up to me to heal the breach and give him his chance. If I had, that girl would still be alive.”
“Thank you, Mr Howlett.”
Brannigan sat and Sangrin arose to cross-examine. Without seeming to he got Howlett to admit that his boy was privileged and that he had many advantages that other boys, who did not offend, lacked. But he could not shake him from his belief that he
was to blame for the whole affair and finally gave up and the court went into recess for half an hour to give both sides time to prepare their final statements.
Sangrin trod very carefully during his final session. He was aware of the strong emotional sympathy Rex Howlett's evidence had created among the members of the jury and did not wish to antagonise them by directly attacking him. He reminded them that this youth had a better education than most and should know right from wrong. He had not been egged into this crime by other members of his peer group, but had decided to commit a criminal act with the sole purpose of spiting his own father, the same father who had dug deep into his pocket and his understanding to buy him the Go Kart in the first place. He then went on to remind them of the girl who had been so tragically killed on the eve of her wedding and the grief to her parents, one of whom had since taken her own life. He also reminded them of the other girls who had been injured and of the pain and suffering still to come for Jessica Kurly in her future operations. He finally reminded them that it could have been one of their families waiting for the bus on that evening and maybe them who could have now been suffering from the loss of a loved one. He ended by saying that the prosecution were not looking for revenge, but only for justice and protection for others from this type of criminal act.
Brannigan's approach was one of apology for the damaged caused by his clients actions, strongly mixed with petitions for his youth and consideration for the disappointment he had suffered. He agreed that his client may be privileged to outside eyes, but from his own point of view and with his limited experience of the world; Jason accepted his lifestyle as normal. He agreed that his client was hot headed and undisciplined, but asked if this was entirely his fault. Up until this last incident his parents had clearly spoilt him. He finally stressed that Jason Howlett, although still alive and on this earth, had also to suffer some damage in this affair in that he would carry the knowledge and guilt of his actions for the rest of his life. He asked respectfully that the court should take this into account. He talked of the Howlett parents sympathy and understanding for the victims of their son's actions, sympathy so strong that they had decided against bringing charges when Inspector MacAllister had assaulted Mr Howlett causing severe concussion.
In his own summing up Mr Justice Bentine directed the Jury that there was really only two verdicts they could come to. If they believed that the defendant had driven through the pedestrians awaiting the bus deliberately without caring if he hit them or not, they had to find for Manslaughter. However, if they believed that the defendant had merely been trying to avoid arrest when he had mounted the pavement and that the subsequent injuries to the pedestrians had been unintentional, he avoided saying accidental, then they must find for death by reckless driving.
He explained that it was his opinion that the death of Kirsty MacAllister was directly caused by the injuries caused on the night in question as the hospital had certified her as brain dead on account of those injuries. He went on to explain what that meant and to give some details of the recent historical case that had decided that the relatives of persons certified brain dead should be allowed to switch of any artificial support and let the person go in peace. He had a few more things to say on the grounds of how their decision would affect several peoples lives for the rest of their time on this planet and the need for them to consider their verdict carefully and then he let them go off to make their decision.
MacAllister went out for a smoke while the jury were considering their verdict; he was already back to forty a day, and then went for a walk around the foyer. Only twenty minutes had passed when he heard the usher calling everybody back into the courthouse. They took their seats and then stood as Mr Justice Bentine swept in and took his seat. At the usual question the foreman of the jury, a matron in her early fifties arose and confirmed it was their unanimous opinion that the defendant was guilty of causing death by reckless driving. MacAllister felt a surge of relief go through him and he relaxed back in his seat. Despite the evidence in the prosecutions favour he had been terrified that Brannigan had been going to spring a big surprise that would get his client off the hook. That had not happened and it seemed that justice had been done. This mood of relief evaporated when Mr Justice Bentine asked the defendant to stand to receive sentence.
“Jason Howlett. You have been found guilty of causing death and injury by reckless driving and it is necessary that you should be punished. You are a young man of privilege who acts were committed not because of want or need, but from petulance and anger at the act of your father.”
MacAllister closed his eye and took a deep breath of satisfaction. They were going to crucify the little bastard.
“However, I must also take into account that neither your parents nor your background have prepared you to meet disappointment in life and that your father did not handle the situation well. I must also take into account your extreme youth and naively for the situation in which you found yourself and I believe that your actions were more of panic than anything else and I recommend the police review their policy of switching on their sirens on these occasion.”
He stared sternly in the direction of the prosecution bench before continuing.
“Because of this and the fact that I do not feel that a custodial sentence would achieve anything of significance in this case, I sentence you to two years, suspended sentence and two hundred hours Community Service. I should point out to you that a suspended sentence means just what it says. If you should offend again, however slightly, the full two years of this sentence will then be served in addition to any other sentence that any further offence should carry. Is that clear?”
The entire Howlett family nodded their heads enthusiastically.
“In that case I declare this hearing closed.”
They scrambled to their feet as the judge swept from the room, all of them that is except MacAllister. He sat for some moments absolutely stunned at the decision Justice Bentine had just made. He glanced across to the prosecution bench, where Clive Sayers could not meet his eye and busied himself with some papers and transferred his gaze to Sangrin, who looked surprised, but resigned. Sangrin had been a police prosecutor for years and nothing that Judges and Juries did could surprise him any more. Then he looked across at the Howlett's. Their faces were beaming and already he could see Jason's old arrogance returning as he realised that to all intents and purposes he had got away with it. He was probably also realising that he had his parents right in the palm of his hand as well. There would be no more taking his pleasures away from him because of bad school results and before his eyes MacAllister could see another selfish and heartless little bastard being formed.
He staggered out of the courtyard and out to his car. Driving up to Clifton Down he parked it with scant regard for making sure it was securely locked and for two hours he walked along the cliff tops of the Avon Gorge where he looked down at the drop a couple of times and wondered, but he knew he was not the suicide type. Finally, when he had walked off sufficient of the hurt and anger to allow him to continue, he went back to his car and drove home.
When he lifted the garage door to put the car away he found his Mackintosh draped over the handles of the lawn mower and remembered Jackie Ward's promise to deliver it. After he had parked the car he carried it into the lounge, picking up the whisky bottle in his left hand and throwing the coat into a chair all at the same time. His aim was bad. It hit the top of the chair and slid to the floor and a small plastic cassette bounced on the carpet and ended up against the skirting board. He looked at it for a moment before he remembered what it was. It was Mitael Khorta's answer phone tape. He left it there while he poured himself out a whisky, making sure it was a moderate one. Then his copper's curiosity got the better of him and carrying his glass with him he picked it up and headed out to his own answer phone in the hall.
Vengeance Page 19
