A Matter for the Jury

by Peter Murphy

  Joan looked at her thoughtfully.

  ‘It makes sense that they would send a woman,’ she said. ‘Actually, I’m quite relieved that they did.’

  Jess nodded.

  ‘Tell me a bit about your family.’

  Joan poured more tea as Jess started on her sandwich.

  ‘My father is a canon at the Minster,’ she said. ‘Before that he was a priest at different churches in and around York, so the church has always been part of my life. My mother was a teacher, but she hasn’t worked for a number of years. I have a younger sister, Ellen, who is, well, she can’t walk very well. One of her legs doesn’t work properly. She was born that way. The doctors don’t seem to understand why. She’s had several operations, but nothing seems to make it right, so my mother has to take care of her. I help out, of course, whenever I’m at home, but it’s still quite a strain for her.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Jess said. ‘Tell me, how did you meet Ignatius?’

  Joan drained her tea cup and poured more tea for them both before replying.

  ‘It was through the church, of course. Story of my life. He came up to York for a meeting of ordinands while he was in training at Ridley Hall. My father had them all over to the house one evening for sherry and cakes – very Church of England. I talked to Ignatius…’

  Jess suddenly giggled.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. But do you really call him Ignatius? It’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? You must have a…’

  To Jess’s relief, Joan giggled in return.

  ‘I call him Iggy,’ she said.

  ‘Iggy?’

  ‘Yes, but only when he’s not around. He’s a bit sensitive. He really is an Ignatius by temperament.’

  ‘Well, I prefer Iggy,’ Jess replied.

  ‘So do I. Well, I talked to Iggy over sherry, but I also talked to all the other ordinands and, I have to say, he didn’t make any particular impression on me. But he phoned a day or two later, completely out of the blue, and asked whether he could see me again if he came up to York. I didn’t really know what to say. I asked my father about him, but of course, as Iggy was an ordinand, he thought it was a great idea. He would love to see me married to a minister. So I said I would see him if he came to York, which he did. Then I went down to Cambridge to see him there, and that became the pattern, Iggy would come up here, then I would go down there, until he was ordained. It was then that he asked me to marry him. I’d finished my teacher training by then and I was able to get a job at the school at St Ives. So it all worked out well.’

  She paused and picked up the handkerchief.

  ‘Or so I thought.’

  The tears came again. She picked up the handkerchief and dried her eyes. Jess finished her sandwich, giving her companion time to compose herself. At length, Joan replaced the handkerchief in her handbag.

  ‘Look, I know it’s not really walking weather,’ she said abruptly. ‘But would you mind if we walked around for a while and got some fresh air? Do you need to be inside to make notes?’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ Jess replied. ‘I managed to keep my feet on my way from the station, so I am sure I can do it again. Show me the Minster – from the outside, anyway.’

  They paid the bill and walked slowly along Stonegate in the face of wind and light drizzle until the majestic outline of York Minster came into view and, as they got closer, grew ever more imposing until it seemed almost to engulf them. They entered the grounds surrounding the ancient cathedral and stood together under the walls, shielded for the moment from the wind.

  ‘I know what you want to ask me, Jess,’ Joan said.

  Jess nodded.

  ‘I have no reason to believe that Iggy has any… any interest in boys. Of course, I haven’t really seen him with boys, except at church when I’m there as well; so I don’t really know.’

  Jess touched her hand briefly.

  ‘Joan, I know how difficult this must be for you. I don’t want to cause you any more pain than you’ve suffered already. But I know you understand how serious this is, what it means to Iggy, not just in terms of his future in the ministry, but possibly going to prison and then having to live with a criminal record. So his solicitors and his barrister need to know what they are dealing with. Has he… has he ever said anything, anything at all to make you suspicious?’

  Joan turned her head away slightly.

  ‘No, he’s never said anything.’

  Jess nodded. ‘All right.’ She watched Joan carefully. She knew there was more to come, and it was costing her a lot to say it.

  ‘But…’

  She touched Joan’s hand again.

  ‘It’s all right.’

  Joan turned her head fully away for some moments, before turning back to look Jess full in the face.

  ‘I can’t believe that I’m here, talking about things like this with a complete stranger. But… I don’t think he is very interested in me. Sexually, I mean.’

  ‘You were engaged to be married,’ Jess pointed out. ‘Are you saying…?’

  Joan folded her arms tightly around her. Suddenly, her resistance melted away.

  ‘I was assuming that things would be different once we were married,’ she said. ‘I’m sure that was very naive of me. But you must understand, in my family there was never any discussion about sex. It’s not the kind of thing you talk about in a church family.’

  Jess smiled.

  ‘It’s not the kind of thing you talk about in most families,’ she said. ‘It was the same with my parents.’

  ‘I got the usual platitudes about marriage and how wonderful it all is,’ Joan said, ‘but not much information about what to actually expect. But I can’t blame my parents. I’m an adult. All the signs were there, and I didn’t pay attention.’

  ‘What signs?’ Jess asked quietly.

  Joan took a deep breath.

  ‘Obviously, in our situation, there was no question of sex before marriage. Not the done thing, of course. But we had time alone together and I thought: he must have desires and… well, I didn’t see any harm in relieving the pressure occasionally, so to speak. I’m not totally ignorant about the mechanics of sex, you know. I’d been out with another boy a few times. So I… I tried rubbing his… his… you know, his penis; through his trousers at first. He seemed to like it. I mean, he would kiss me and swear his undying love and so on, and he would give my breasts a squeeze. But that was it. He never became really hard at all. The only time he seemed excited was once when I actually unbuttoned his flies and took it out. I think that gave him a thrill, because he did get hard that time, and after I had played with him he even managed to… you know… ejaculate all over my fingers. I felt good about that, but it took a very long time, and he never asked me to do it again. So, in all honesty, I don’t know what to think.’

  She put a hand on Jess’s arm.

  ‘Jess, I’ve never told anyone what I’ve just told you – not even my closest friend. And I’m not sure what it means, if it means anything at all. It’s just that, when you asked me to meet you and talk about being a witness for Igg… well, it’s not that I don’t want to help – I know I owe him that. It’s just that… well, I’m not sure I would make a particularly good witness.’

  13

  Detective Superintendent Arnold and Detective Inspector Phillips made a deliberately vigorous entry into the small interview room, throwing back the door so that the knob crashed into the wall, pulling out their chairs from under the table with a clatter, and seating themselves purposefully. Arnold had arranged for Billy Cottage to be brought up from the cells half an hour before commencing the interview. He wanted to give him time to reflect after a night, and a good part of the following day, in the cells. Phillips was poised to resume writing in his notebook. Arnold folded his hands in front of him on the table.

>   ‘I tell you what, Billy,’ he said. ‘Let’s not waste any more time. I’m going to explain to you what happened on the Rosemary D late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. The young lady who owns the cross you found – her name is Jennifer Doyce. She went on board the Rosemary D with her boyfriend, Frank Gilliam. This was on Saturday night, some time just before midnight. Someone attacked them. With this…’

  Arnold reached down to his left and picked up a thick plastic sack, which had several yellow exhibit labels carefully attached to the tape around its neck. It contained a heavy-looking winch handle with a number of rust-coloured stains.

  ‘This would have been used for lowering and raising the anchor. But of course, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? It’s been in the water for a while. Whoever attacked Frank and Jennifer would have thrown it overboard, hoping it might drift downstream with the silt. But, as luck would have it, it caught on the anchor line, and didn’t go anywhere. The frogmen we sent down to look for a weapon swam right into it. The blood stains are a bit degraded, but there is still enough to be identified as the same blood groups as the victims’.

  Arnold banged the winch handle on the table for emphasis.

  ‘Jennifer is still alive – just,’ he said. ‘She has serious head injuries, and she was raped. She’s in a bad way but, unfortunately for whoever did this, she survived, and she may well make a good recovery over time. In fact, DI Phillips and I spoke to her for a few minutes this morning.’

  He paused to allow this to sink in. Billy appeared cowed, but Arnold was not sure whether his expression changed much in response to hearing the news.

  ‘Frank, on the other hand, is dead. The cause of death was a series of blows to the head with a heavy blunt instrument, resulting in a fractured skull. So we have one charge of murder, one charge of attempted murder, and one charge of rape. And here you are, with her gold cross and chain in your possession, lying to us about where you found it, telling us you found it in the grass, even after we’ve explained to you that it was taken from her neck by her attacker.’

  Billy was staring into the distance at no one and nothing in particular.

  ‘I think I should caution you again, Billy,’ Arnold said, ‘because I must tell you honestly, I suspect that you may be responsible for the attack on Jennifer and Frank.’

  ‘No…’ Billy began to protest, his voice almost plaintive.

  ‘Just listen to me, Billy. Again, I must remind you that you are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be given in evidence. Now, do you wish to say anything? Do you wish to explain where you got the cross and chain?’

  When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire…

  Billy seemed lost in thought.

  ‘It might not have been by the boat. It might have been in the reeds, further along the tow path, closer to town.’

  ‘Might have been?’

  ‘I don’t remember exactly. But it must have been, otherwise the police would have found it before I did, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘So now,’ Arnold said, ‘you’re saying it wasn’t by the lock, on your side of the river, as you originally told us, or by the boat itself, on the other side, as you also suggested. Now, you’re saying it was on the bank but closer to town? That’s what you’re saying now, is it?’

  Full well I served my master for nigh on seven years…

  ‘I think so.’

  Arnold sat back in his chair, pausing, allowing Phillips to catch up.

  ‘Let’s consider that for a moment,’ he said. ‘First question: when was this?’

  ‘I already told you,’ Billy replied, with a show of defiance, ‘on Tuesday morning.’

  ‘Let’s accept that for the moment, even though there would have been police officers walking up and down the river bank all day. What were you doing on the other side of the river, anyway?’

  ‘I often go over to that side. I have to be aware of possible hazards to river craft, reeds, flotsam and jetsam. You can’t see everything from the lock. You have to go and look for yourself. People coming through the lock expect me to tell them about things like that. If I didn’t, and a craft met with an accident, the River Board would be down on me like a ton of bricks.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t cross the river to get a look inside the Rosemary D?’

  Till I took up to poaching as you shall quickly hear…

  ‘Why would I do that? I know where she is. She’s a hazard, like I said. But there’s nothing I can do about it. If the River Board…’

  ‘I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the River Board, Billy,’ Arnold said. ‘I think it’s got more to do with what goes on inside the boat, rather than around her.’

  Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes, you do. All those young courting couples going there and getting up to all kinds of mischief. You know all about that, Billy. You know what goes on. You like to watch, don’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Of course you do. PC Willis nicked you for it before, didn’t he? You were standing outside a girl’s house watching her undress and playing with yourself. You got a conditional discharge from the magistrates.’

  ‘That’s not how it was. I can explain that.’

  ‘No conditional discharge this time, Billy. Not for murder. Not for rape. You went to watch, didn’t you? What happened? Did you decide it wasn’t enough to watch? Did you want to join in? Wouldn’t they let you, is that it? Did they try to send you on your way?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you got angry. I understand that. Why wouldn’t you? Why wouldn’t they let you have a bit of fun with them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you get angry. You start to leave, but then you think, sod it, they’re not going to treat me like this. So you pick up the winch handle, and you go after them. Who do you attack first? Frank, I would think. Get him out of the way, so he can’t interfere. Then you take Jennifer, once you’ve clobbered her over the head as well, and she can’t resist any more. Was she your first, Billy? Do you want to tell me all about it?’

  Billy was rocking back and forth in his chair. He appeared to be having trouble breathing. Phillips looked across at Arnold questioningly, but Arnold raised a hand slightly. There was a long silence. Arnold waited.

  ‘I’ve never even been on that boat,’ Billy said eventually.

  Arnold sat up in his chair.

  ‘I want you to think very carefully about that answer, Billy,’ he replied quietly. ‘I’m going to give you the chance to change your mind, to tell us the truth. Perhaps you were on board, but nothing happened, at least nothing to do with you? Perhaps you discovered the scene and panicked, didn’t know what to do, just ran away?’

  Billy shook his head.

  ‘I never went on board,’ he said. ‘I never had the need to.’

  ‘In that case,’ Arnold asked, ‘why did my forensic officer find your fingerprint on a window ledge in the aft cabin – an inside window ledge? The police have your fingerprints from your last arrest, or had you forgotten? The print has some blood around it, by the way – same group as Jennifer’s, as it turns out.’

  Billy was staring helplessly up at the ceiling.

  Arnold stood up.

  ‘The other strange thing,’ he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘is that when we spoke to Jennifer today, she told us that she remembered the man who attacked her was humming a tune to himself, almost under his breath, but she could hear it. This was while he was raping her, before she lost consciousness. Care to guess what tune he was humming, Billy?’

  Phillips also stood.

  ‘I’m going to arrange for you to see a solicitor,’ Arnold said. ‘I think you need some legal advice. In the meanw
hile, I am going to speak to my superiors in Cambridge, and I am going to recommend that you be charged with the murder of Frank Gilliam and with the attempted murder and rape of Jennifer Doyce.’

  He turned towards the door.

  ‘Oh – and also, larceny of the gold cross and chain. Jennifer recognised it as hers. Mustn’t forget that, must we?’

  Sergeant Livermore was approaching as Arnold and Phillips left the interview room.

  ‘You were asking about solicitors earlier, sir. There is actually a solicitor at the station at the moment,’ he said. ‘John Singer, local chap, well regarded. He was here on another matter.’ He leaned towards the two detectives knowingly, confidentially. ‘Vicar with an unhealthy interest in choir boys. He said he would be happy to have a word with Billy.’

  ‘Sounds like the perfect man for the job,’ Arnold said.

  14

  3 February

  It was a few minutes after seven in the evening. Barratt and Suzie Davis had just settled down in the living room of their home in Kensington with a bottle of White Burgundy, some olives, and a prized recording of Elgar’s Enigma Variations – the London Philharmonic, conducted by Sir Adrian Boult. When the phone rang, they exchanged frustrated glances. They had both had an extremely busy day. Barratt’s clients had been especially challenging. Suzie ran a small fashion boutique with a growing reputation in the Kings Road, Chelsea, and had been run off her feet. This was their time to unwind. For a moment Barratt considered letting the phone ring unanswered, but the habit of a lifetime was not to be broken now. Turning Elgar down a little, he walked slowly across the room, giving whoever was calling ample time to change their mind and hang up. No such luck. He picked up the phone.

  ‘Barratt Davis.’

  The voice on the other end of the line sounded breathless, as if its owner had run some distance to the phone.

  ‘Barratt, this is John Singer. I’m awfully sorry to disturb your evening. I’ve been at the police station all afternoon, and I’ve only just got back to the office.’

  ‘Hello, John,’ Barratt replied. ‘This is a surprise. What’s the matter? Has the Reverend Mr Little been on the rampage again?’