by Vicary, Tim
The judge leaned forward protectively. ‘Nevertheless, I think it might help the jury if the Detective Inspector were allowed to give his reasons, Mrs Newby. Inspector?’
Thank God for judges, Terry thought. ‘The reason was simple, my lord. I wanted to see what his reaction would be if he thought he’d been recognised. And his reaction was quite clear. He was silent, as you could hear on the tape, and he went very white. That convinced me that he was guilty.’
Sarah glanced at the judge. It seemed he had finished, for the present at least. Once again she had the electrifying feeling that all eyes were on her. Mostly hating her, at this moment.
‘I see. What would you say, Detective Inspector, if I told this court that at lunchtime you put your hand up my skirt and indecently assaulted me?’
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the court. Someone in the public gallery began to giggle helplessly. Terry opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
Before he could recover Sarah went on, smoothly: ‘I think the jury can see exactly what you would say. Your face has gone white and you are lost for words. Well, let me reassure the jury straight away that that was a hypothetical question. The Detective Inspector did not assault me, members of the jury. But even though he knows the suggestion is untrue he is shocked and lost for words, as you see.’
A young jurywoman laughed and her neighbour grinned. The other expressions ranged from delight through dismay to disgust. She had their undivided attention, at least.
But it was not a line of attack she had planned - where did she go from here? When you’ve made your point, move on. In a quiet, reasonable voice she asked:
‘Detective Inspector, did you find a balaclava hood in Gary Harker’s flat?’
‘No, my lord, we didn’t.’ Terry’s voice was wooden, stolid, but underneath he was seething. What a bitch the woman was! Was she planning this in the pub? Her questions continued, swift and relentless.
‘Did you find the watch that Sharon Gilbert described?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘No hood, no watch. You did search the flat, I suppose?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘But you found no hood and no watch. Did you find any evidence at all in the flat, to suggest that Gary Harker had raped Sharon Gilbert?’
‘No, my lord. But ...’
‘So your only justification for arresting Mr Harker at five o’clock that morning was Sharon Gilbert’s identification of a man whose face she had not seen. Is that correct?’
‘It ... was the main reason for arresting him, yes.’
‘Was there any other reason?’
‘No.’
‘So it wasn’t just your main reason, it was your only reason, wasn’t it? Tell me, Detective Inspector, when you interviewed Ms Gilbert that night, was she sober?’
‘I ... understood she had been drinking, my lord, but she didn’t seem particularly drunk. She was quite clear about what she was saying.’
‘Not particularly drunk, you say. Ms Gilbert has told this court that she drank five vodkas and a double gin at the party, plus a vodka just before you arrived. But she was not particularly drunk, in your view. Detective Inspector, how many units of alcohol can a woman drink without exceeding the drink drive limit?’
Terry hesitated. ‘Er ... one or two, I believe. Maybe three, if it’s consumed with food.’
‘You believe? You’re a police inspector. Aren’t you sure?’
‘It varies with circumstances and body weight. Anyway I’m not a traffic policeman.’
‘Let me tell you then. An average woman is unfit to drive if she has consumed more than three units of alcohol in three hours. Sharon Gilbert had consumed at least eight units of alcohol. She was nearly three times over the driving limit. And yet you say she wasn’t drunk.’
‘I didn’t say she was fit to drive. I said she could identify the man who raped her.’
‘Even though that man was wearing a balaclava hood?’
‘Yes. He was a man she knew very well.’
‘Well, look, Detective Inspector, it seems to me that you’re asking this jury to believe one of two impossible things. Either you believe that a woman who has drunk six vodkas and a double gin is perfectly sober, or, if you accept that she wasn’t sober, you are saying that a woman who was hopelessly drunk can positively identify a man with a hood over his face. Which is it?’
There was smothered laughter from the jury box. It sounded like applause to Sarah, mockery to Terry, who sighed.
‘Neither of those. As I said, she wasn’t completely sober but she was clear enough in her mind to identify the man she believed had raped her. And she repeated those allegations the next day when she was perfectly sober. She has always been perfectly clear about that.’
‘I see. Well, is it also true, Detective Inspector, that Mr Harker denied the allegation of rape when you first arrested him, and has clearly and consistently repeated those denials every time you’ve asked him?’
‘That is true, my lord, yes.’
‘Very well. And you found no other evidence whatsoever in his house or on his clothing to substantiate this charge. That’s correct too, isn’t it?’
‘That’s true, my lord.’
‘Very well. That’s all I have to ask.’
She folded her gown about her and sat down. And as he made his way to the back of the court she watched him with a slight enigmatic smile on her face. A smile signifying what, Terry wondered. Irony? Mockery? Self-satisfaction?
Bitch.
Chapter Ten
THE FINAL prosecution witness was a man called Keith Somers. His testimony was straightforward and damning. He knew Gary Harker, and he had seen him in Albert Street just after one a.m. on the night of the rape. Gary had been wearing black jeans and a black shirt, and had even acknowledged him with a wave.
The significance of this was that Albert Street ran parallel to Thorpe Street, where Sharon Gilbert lived. The houses had small back gardens with low fences which backed onto each other. The rapist could easily have left Sharon’s house, climbed the fence and come out in Albert Street.
From Sharon’s phone bill, Lloyd-Davies demonstrated that she had phoned her friend Mary at 1.08 a.m., and the police at 1.22 a.m. Somers had seen Gary at about 1.05. This, Lloyd-Davies insisted, put Gary in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.
As Sarah stood up to cross-examine she felt her pager tremble in her pocket. Looking down she saw her husband’s work number. What did he want - more problems with Emily? Nothing she could do now, anyway.
Somers was a good, credible witness. She tried to cast doubt on the time he had seen Gary, but he would have none of it. He had been at a friend’s house watching a film which ended at 12.50 a.m. He’d left immediately: no lingering conversations, no cups of coffee. He’d had a few beers but he wasn’t drunk. He’d seen Gary’s face clearly under a streetlight. Sarah tried to turn this, at least, to her advantage.
‘You could see all of his head, could you?’
‘Yes. He was bare-headed.’
‘So he wasn’t wearing a balaclava hood?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see any sign of a hood - something in his hand, a bulge in his pocket, perhaps?’
‘No. No, I can’t say I did.’
‘I see. Well, thank you very much.’ She sat down. It was the best she could do - Gary admitted being in the area that night, after all. Sarah remembered the pager again. What did Bob want? She felt suddenly tired, unaccountably low after the adrenalin rush of the early afternoon.
Julian Lloyd-Davies said: ‘That completes the case for the prosecution, my lord.’
‘Very well.’ The judge looked inquiringly at Sarah, who stood up. ‘My lord, I would like to address the court on a point of law.’
‘I see. In that case, members of the jury, I must ask you to retire for a short time.’
As the jury filed out of court the barristers digested the phrase a short time. Lloyd-Davies
knew very well what Sarah was about to say, and no doubt regarded it as a forlorn hope. But she was determined to give it a try.
‘Before I present the case for the defence, I would like to invite your lordship to dismiss the case as being unsafe to put before a jury. As your lordship will have seen, the prosecution have completely failed to produce any evidence which puts my client at the scene of the crime. They have no forensic evidence at all. My client has consistently protested his innocence, and the only evidence against him is that of identification. The evidence of the victim’s child has been discounted, and that of the victim herself is highly suspect and tainted by her own extreme animosity towards my client, whose face she never saw. In view of all these points it seems to me that the only proper course for your lordship is to dismiss the case now rather than running the risk of an unsafe conviction before a jury.’
Julian Lloyd-Davies stood to reply but the judge waved him away.
‘No, Mr Lloyd-Davies, it won’t be necessary. I hear what you say, Mrs Newby, and I agree with you that there are a number of difficulties with the identification evidence, and the child’s evidence has been excluded. But the fact remains that Ms Gilbert was very well acquainted with the defendant, and can be presumed able to recognise his voice, even from behind a mask. The last witness puts your client in the area at precisely the time the rape was committed. Even if the Crown have not been able to produce the watch, its existence does give your client a motive, in addition to the intention to rape, for entering the house, and its theft suggests that the intruder knew the layout of the bedroom. So in view of all these points I am satisfied that the Crown have produced a case to answer.’
Sarah bowed. ‘As your lordship wishes.’ It was no more than she had expected. But any appeal court would know that she had tried three times to get this case thrown out. The judge’s decision would have to be proven right in all three instances; no one could say she had not tried.
‘So, Mrs Newby. The jury are chafing at the bit. Shall we begin?’
Sarah sighed. ‘Very well, my lord.’ The jurors filed morosely back into their seats, looking far less eager than the judge had suggested, and she called Graham Dewar.
Dewar was a bricklayer who had worked with Gary for a company called MacFarlane’s. When Lucy had first discovered him Sarah had been delighted. Whatever else, he would embarrass the police. He was a respectable, red-faced man, uncomfortable in his shiny blue suit.
‘Mr Dewar, when you worked with Gary Harker, did you know a man called Sean?’
‘I did, yes.’.
‘Did you know his surname?’
‘Never did, no. Always called him Sean, that’s all.’
‘Was he friendly with Gary?’
‘Quite friendly, yes, I suppose. I think they met in prison, like.’
That’s just what I didn’t need, Sarah thought. Quickly, she moved on.
‘What sort of man was he?’
Dewar considered. ‘Well, a sort of fitness fanatic, I suppose. Did a lot of training. Not very chatty. I didn’t know him right well, like. He were there for two or three weeks and then gone.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘No. We get lots like him. Work for a bit then go back on t’dole. Happens all’t time.’
‘When did he leave?’
‘Well, I can’t say for definite - but it were about same time as Gary got arrested. Middle of October, maybe. Around then.’
‘I see.’ Sarah glanced at the jury. ‘One last question, then, Mr Dewar. Did the police ever come to your building site, to ask you or your mates if this man existed?’
Dewar shook his head. ‘No. Definitely not. If they’d come I’d have told them like, but nobody ever asked before your solicitor did.’ He indicated Lucy, sitting behind Sarah.
‘Thank you, Mr Dewar. Stay there, please.’ Sarah glanced at Terry in the well of the court, and sat down. Lloyd-Davies, perhaps as a sign of contempt, had asked his junior, James Morris, to cross-examine. The young man stood up eagerly, and began in a well-educated southern voice. ‘That’s all a pack of lies, Mr Dewar, isn’t it?’
Dewar took his time answering, examining the young lawyer curiously, as though he had never seen anything quite like him before and was curious how he was put together. ‘No, young man, it isn’t bloody lies. It’s the truth, like I swore to tell on yon book.’
James Morris flushed. ‘Well, we’ll see what the jury think, shall we? You’re a close friend of Gary Harker, aren’t you?’
‘No, not particularly.’
Sarah glanced at Lloyd-Davies, to see how he was taking his protégé’s performance.
‘Well, you came here to testify on his behalf.’
‘Don’t make me his friend, does it? As a matter of fact I don’t like the feller much.’
‘But ... if you don’t like him, why have you come?’
‘To tell’t truth, young man. For justice’ sake. In’t that what you do ‘ere?’
Morris was sunk. He floundered on for some time but only dug himself deeper into a hole. Sarah blew Lucy a silent kiss. Despite the unfortunate comment about prison, Dewar was a gem. She had hit the bullseye this time. The only trouble was, he was the only shot in her locker.
James Morris sat down at four o’clock. The judge peered at Sarah over his spectacles.
‘Will your client be taking the stand, Mrs Newby?’
‘That remains to be decided, my lord. I need to take instructions.’
‘Very well. We will resume at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’ The judge levered himself to his feet, the clerk cried out ‘All Stand!’ and court was over for the day.
Lucy came out of court with her. ‘Will you put him on the stand?’
‘I would advise not.’
‘Why? We’re doing well, and he’s consistently denied it.’
‘You know how he talks. Lloyd-Davies will prick him and goad him until he explodes. The jury will loathe him.’
‘But if we don’t, they’ll think he’s got something to hide.’
‘He has. His voice, his temper, the lies about his alibi. He’s got everything to hide. But if he doesn’t speak they won’t hear it from his own mouth. They’ll just hear me.’
In his cell Gary grinned at them. ‘We’re doing well, lasses, eh?’
‘I’m doing well,’ said Sarah coolly. ‘You’re probably going to jail.’
‘Eh? What d’yer mean, you stuck-up bitch? It’s your job to keep me out of jail, in’t it?’
‘Yes, but unless you prove your alibi, the jury are going to draw the obvious conclusion.’
‘What d’you mean? You’ve just heard about Sean, haven’t you?’
‘We’ve heard he exists but that doesn’t mean he was with you that night, does it? And their last witness saw you in Albert Street, for heaven’s sake! What were you doing there?’
‘I’ve told yer. I was on me way home after shagging this bird I met.’
‘A bird whose name we don’t know, with a friend called Sean who’s conveniently vanished. The prosecution will crucify you about that, Gary. It would have been better to say nothing than tell the police a tale about girls whose names you can’t even remember.’
‘Have you never had a feller whose name you forgot next day? It happens all’t time.’
‘To you, maybe, but not to me,’ Sarah said primly, thinking bleakly of her first husband Kevin and how similar he was in some ways to this thug before her. ‘And my girlfriends didn’t do a bunk the next day, either. You do realise, if we could find this shagging companion of yours - Sean - and he confirmed your story, you’d be a free man tomorrow.’
Gary grinned, amused by her unexpectedly coarse language. ‘I know, but he’s scarpered, ain’t he? He always were a devious bugger.’
‘Not much of a friend, then, after all?’ Sarah said sarcastically. ‘If he was ever there.’
‘You calling me a liar, woman?’ He rose suddenly to his feet, six foot three of tattooed brawn and beer belly towe
ring above them. Lucy flinched, but Sarah stood her ground. She was not surprised; she had intended to provoke him.
‘That’s what Lloyd-Davies will say tomorrow. He’ll say you’re lying about this man Sean and the two prostitutes. Sean’s scarpered and they never existed.’
His fists opened and closed like claws. Sarah imagined them closing around her throat. But he looked more sly than angry. ‘Aye, well. It’s not a crime is it, to have the coppers on?’
‘It’s not exactly a brilliant idea to lie to the police when they’re accusing you of rape. Is that what you’re going to say in court tomorrow, that this alibi was just a fantasy of yours?’
‘What if I do? It don’t prove I raped the cow, does it? You said so yourself!’
‘I didn’t call her a cow, Gary.’
‘No. But she is for all that. You don’t know her.’
‘All right, Gary.’ Sarah became brisk, preparing to leave. ‘We’ve done quite well, like you say, and tomorrow is the final speeches. As a defendant you have the right to give evidence on your own behalf if you choose, but as your advocate I strongly suggest you say nothing. If you go in the witness box Julian Lloyd-Davies will do his best to make the jury dislike you, and to be frank I think he’ll succeed. If you say nothing then I can emphasise the weaknesses in the prosecution case, which will give us a better chance. But it’s for you to decide. Do you agree?’
He frowned at her, thinking. ‘You want me to keep me trap shut and tell no more lies?
‘Exactly. If you’d done that in the beginning you’d be better off now.’
‘I’ll think on. I’ll tell you in’t morning.’
‘All right. But think hard, Gary. Juries don’t like liars. Nobody does.’
With that she left. In the corridor outside she looked at Lucy. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Tell no more lies,’ Lucy sighed.
‘Quite.’ Sarah took a deep breath and walked quickly up the stairs. Crossing the entrance hall with her solicitor was Sharon Gilbert. As Sarah watched, another woman, her friend Mary probably, met her on the steps outside with two small children - one of them the little boy who had dared to attack the brute who was raping his mother.
