by Vicary, Tim
Harry let go her wrist, and sat watching her intently. ‘Good girl, got it in one. So tell me, Sharon. How do you know him?’
She laughed. ‘Same way I know you, as it happens. All’t bloody same, you men.’
‘He’s one of your clients?’
‘Was, yeah. Not any more.’
‘Why not? What happened?’
She got up, flicked her ash into a glass, and began to pace slowly by the window. ‘If I were a doctor, I couldn’t say, could I? They have clients, and they’re supposed to keep it all secret, aren’t they? Confidential.’
‘Yes, but you ...’
‘I have clients too, even if some don’t pay as they should.’ She glanced at him scornfully. ‘But anyhow, that feller in them pictures, I reckon he needed a doctor as much as he needed me.’
‘Why? He wasn’t diseased, was he?’ Harry squirmed, feeling his groin for any unaccustomed aches or itches.
‘No, not like that. But he couldn’t do it proper. Unlike you, it has to be said.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, there was something wrong with him. He could get it up, see, but he couldn’t do it. No sperm, nothing like that.’
‘He couldn’t produce sperm?’
‘No.’ She tossed her head, drawing deeply on her cigarette. ‘Believe me, I checked. He wore a condom, but it were empty. I gave him a hand job, and - nowt.’
Harry stared, then began to laugh. ‘But ... poor bugger!’
Sharon shuddered, and stubbed her out cigarette. ‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t so funny at the time, believe you me. That feller there ...’ she nodded at the photofits ‘... is built like Arnold bloody Schwarzennegger and he’s got the mind of a fucking terminator as well. He could put you through that wall with one hand. Only there’s one part of his body that don’t work so well, see - his dick! It’s just dry and hard and drives him mad. And guess who he blames for that?’
Harry was still laughing. ‘His mother? Tony Blair?’
‘It’s not funny, Harry. He blamed me. I tell you, I thought I wasn’t going to get out of this room alive. He’s a fucking psychopath, he is.’
‘He threatened you, you mean?’
‘Threatened me? He had his hands round my throat.’ She shook her head, upset by the memory. ‘Anyway, what you after him for?’
‘He’s ... a suspect in a murder case.’ Harry sobered. ‘So when did you last see this Sean?’
‘About a year ago now. Thank God. If I never see him again it’ll be too soon.’
Harry put on his shirt. ‘There you are, Sharon, you see. I knew you had something for me that couldn’t wait. That’s why I came.’
She watched him fumble for his socks and shoes. ‘Oh yeah. Why you came. Sure.’
He stuffed the photofits back into the envelope and put on his jacket, favouring her with what he imagined was a triumphant, sexy grin. ‘Thanks kid. You made my night.’
Sharon watched from the landing as he went downstairs and out of the front door. Then she switched out the light, leaned back against the wall, and slid slowly down it to the floor. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter and sat there smoking, hunched, her arms around her knees, outside her children’s bedroom door.
David Brodie placed his hands on the edge of the witness box nervously, terrified to find himself the focus of so many pairs of eyes. Phil Turner began gently.
‘Mr Brodie, how well did you know Jasmine Hurst?’
‘Very well.’ Brodie smiled at some inner memory. ‘I was her boyfriend. I loved her.’
‘How long had you known each other?’
‘About ... three months, I suppose.’
‘And how did you meet?’
‘At a party. She looked lonely and we got talking. She’d had a quarrel with her boyfriend, and had nowhere to spend the night. I said she could use my spare room if she liked. So she did.’
Sarah watched intently. He was speaking to the gallery, she thought, like Hamlet on stage. He hardly looked at Phil Turner at all.
‘Who was the boyfriend she had quarreled with?’
‘Simon Newby.’
‘Did you see any evidence of this quarrel?’
‘She showed me a bruise on her arm where he’d hit her.’
‘How did you feel about this?’
‘Well, shocked. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hit her.’
‘So she stayed in your spare room?’
‘Yes.’ He blushed, aware of a possible misunderstanding. ‘I didn’t try anything on; I mean I wouldn’t. She just wanted someone to talk to, I think. I was a bit overawed, to tell the truth. She was a very beautiful girl.’
‘So how did your relationship develop?’
‘Well, next morning she went back to Simon to try to patch things up. I mean, they’d been living together for some time, and she had all her things there in his house. So I said fine, but if she needed to get away she was welcome to come back anytime. I showed her where I hide the key in case I wasn’t there. I’m a nurse, you see; I work late shifts at the hospital.’
‘And did she come back?’
‘Sure. One night, when I came home at 11 o’clock, there she was. She’d let herself in and had a meal ready for me in the oven, of all things. It was amazing. She said she’d quarreled with Simon again and was moving out, for good this time. She asked if she could stay for a few days till she found somewhere else to live.’
‘And you agreed?’
‘Too right I did. I said she could stay for as long as she liked and she did. She ... she stayed for the rest of her life, in fact.’ His voice faltered, and his eyes strayed towards the jury to see if they understood what he meant. It’s all a performance, Sarah thought. He’s on stage.
‘And you became lovers?’
‘After a while, yes, we did.’ He looked down modestly.
‘Very well. Now during this time, did you ever meet the defendant, Simon Newby?’
‘Yes, I saw him several times. He found out where she lived, you see, and he used to spy on us and make our lives a misery. He hit me once.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘Well, Jasmine was going out of the house. I heard shouting, and when I came out he had his hand on her arm. So I told him to leave her alone and he yelled at me to, well, fuck off, he said. Then he hit me.’
‘How?’
‘Just punched me in the face. It was bloody hard. He’s strong, you know.’
Several jurors nodded, noting how much bigger and stronger Simon was than the witness.
‘So what happened then?’
‘Well, I fell over and Jasmine started screaming and kicking him. Then he ran off.’
‘Did you report this assault to the police?’
‘No. I wish I had now. If I had perhaps none of this would have happened.’
Again there was a slight, and to Sarah’s ear suspicious, catch in his voice. Or was she just persuading herself, screwing up her courage for action?
‘This harassment of you and Jasmine - did that continue?’
‘Yes, it happened several times. I think because ...’
‘Yes, Mr Brodie? Because ...?’
‘Because she gave in and went back to see him sometimes. Just to talk, she said. I didn’t like it but there wasn’t much I could do. She seemed to think it was amusing. She said he was just a lovesick kid and she could handle him. Just shows how wrong you can be. I should have done something. But it’s too late now.’
This time there really were tears. He struggled with a pack of tissues. This will impress the jury, Sarah thought gloomily. He loved her too, poor wimp.
‘I know this is distressing, Mr Brodie,’ Turner persisted. ‘But could you tell the court, please, exactly when you last saw Jasmine alive.’
‘It was on the Thursday, 13th May. She left about ten; she said ... she was going to the protest. But I knew she wasn’t. She was going to see him.’
‘She was going to see Simon, you say?’
‘Yes. I asked her not
to go. But she went anyway.’ He blew his nose.
‘And was that the last time you saw her?’
‘Yes. I worked from two till ten. When I got home, she wasn’t there. I thought she was still with him, but she wasn’t, was she? She was out there, dead on the riverbank.’ He pointed at Simon in the dock. ‘Where he killed her!’
Phil Turner waited, allowing the moment its full effect.
‘Thank you. Just wait there, please. Mrs Newby may have some questions.’
Too right I have, Sarah thought. And you’re going to hate me for them.
As Harry came in, Terry glanced pointedly at his watch. 9.37.
‘Yeah, okay sir, I’m sorry.’ Harry grinned. ‘But I was out late last night on the job, to coin a phrase. And it was worth it, believe you me.’
‘Oh yes? Tell me then.’
Harry spun a chair round and straddled it, eyes gleaming with triumph.
‘Well, I saw Sharon yesterday, after her meeting with the journalist.’
‘Oh yes. How did that go?’
Harry shrugged. ‘She didn’t talk much about it. But get this, boss. I showed her these.’ He flung the photofits of Sean on Terry’s desk. ‘And she knows him.’
‘She does?’ Terry remembered Gary’s question. Who helped you with these? That bitch Sharon? ‘How?’
Harry laughed. ‘As a man knows a woman, in the biblical sense. Only there’s just one small and stunning difference, you see.’
Dwelling with great relish on the detail, Harry described what Sharon had told him, about Sean’s behaviour and his unusual sexual difficulty. Terry listened, astonished.
‘Is that possible? I’ve never heard of it.’
‘I rang my doctor this morning. Apparently it’s a one in ten thousand thing, the sort of weird example they put in medical textbooks to cheer everyone else up.’
‘But ... the poor bugger. It would drive you wild, wouldn’t it?’
Harry nodded. ‘That’s what Sharon said too. She said he scared her shitless.’
‘So what did he go to her for, if he knew that would happen?’
‘Maybe he hoped it would work this time. I dunno. But what struck me, sir, you see - in the middle of the night I was thinking about this and I remembered. This lad, Sean, he’s a possible suspect for Maria Clayton’s murder, right? And one of the main problems in the Clayton case is that she was raped, but there was no sign of any semen. Well, if this guy did it ...’
‘He wouldn’t have left any. Quite.’ Terry stood up suddenly. ‘And when it didn’t work of course he’d be in a blind rage and might kill her for it. Where’s that damn book?’
He scrabbled through the heap of files on his desk to unearth Maria Clayton’s battered diary. The page he wanted was marked with a yellow sticker.
‘Here it is. Look!’ He held it out for Harry to see. S big promise, no result. Gets it up but can’t get it out. V. frust for him, poor lamb, blames me. Outside? No way, Jose, I say.
Harry grinned triumphantly. ‘By, it’s got to be him, sir! Big promise, no result. Blames me, she wrote - that’s exactly what Sharon said - and his name begins with S. We’ve got him!’
‘Yes, but ... where is he? That’s the million dollar question now, Harry lad!’
The trembling began just before Sarah stood up. She often felt nervous before cross-examination; the adrenaline sharpened her performance. But this time it was different. Huge South American butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. She clasped her shaking hands behind her back, under her gown.
She had thought long and hard about this plan. Without real proof it could easily backfire. But if it worked, she could sow enough doubt to save her son. And that was how the game was played. Not to be fair or decent, but to win. She smiled briefly at her victim.
‘Good morning, David. Now, you’ve told the court how Jasmine left Simon and came to live with you. When you first met her, did you have another girlfriend?’
‘Not really. I’d been out with some nurses, but I didn’t have a proper girlfriend, no.’
‘No girlfriend living with you?’
‘Oh no.’ He shook his head vehemently.
‘In fact, had you ever lived with a girl before Jasmine Hurst?’
‘Well, no ... not actually lived with anyone before, no.’
‘So this was something really rather special for you?’
‘Special? Oh yes, very special indeed. I loved her.’
‘She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?’
‘Oh yes, she ... could have been a film star, easily.’
‘And she was a little older than you, I think?’
‘A couple of years older, yes.’
She was surprised how comfortable he seemed with these personal questions. If she hadn’t been his enemy, she might have felt sympathy for him. She pressed a little harder.
‘Did you want to marry her?’
‘If she wanted .. yes, sure ... I’d have been happy ...’ His eyes filled with tears. Hard to fake, Sarah thought. But it happens; fathers kill their own children and weep afterwards.
‘You were deeply in love with her, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘In fact you’d have done anything, anything at all, to keep her?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘So when she said she was going to leave you, you must have been deeply upset.’
‘Yes, I ... what do you mean?’ For the first time a frown crossed his brow, as if he guessed where the questions might lead.
‘You didn’t only quarrel with Jasmine that Thursday morning, did you? You quarreled two days before.’
‘No, we ... not really a quarrel, no.’
‘You quarreled at the protest camp. Isn’t that right? You were screaming at each other.’
‘It ...we ...’ It struck him that she would only say this if she had witnesses. ‘We did shout a bit, yes. But it was just a silly quarrel. Only words.’
‘Only words.’ Sarah let the implication sink in. ‘I see. What was it about?’
‘About? Oh, silly things ... I’m a very tidy person, and sometimes that annoyed her. I don’t see why, really, I mean that was something she liked about me at first. She said it was better than the filth in his - your son’s house.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Well, of course I’m not as big as him, as crude. She said she liked strong guys, but she didn’t really, she was just winding me up ...’
‘Did it make you angry when she said those things?’
‘Well, more hurt than angry, I suppose. But it wasn’t true. She loved me really ...’
‘But in this quarrel, she said she was tired of you and was going to leave. Isn’t that right?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Well, that’s what other people heard. Are you saying they’re wrong?’
‘People say all sorts of crazy things in quarrels. They don’t always mean them.’
‘But they do sometimes. The truth is you quarreled with her and you were afraid she might leave you. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘No, she couldn’t - I loved her.’
‘But she did though, didn’t she? She went back to Simon and made love to him.’
As Sarah had expected, Phil Turner rose to his feet. ‘My lord, I fear my learned friend is straying into fantasy. There is no evidence for any of this and she is harassing the witness.’
Sarah faced the judge firmly. ‘My Lord, I have witnesses to substantiate all these points. My son claims that Miss Hurst returned to his home and made love to him frequently, and I have a witness to this quarrel and to Mr Brodie’s state of mind at the time. Since his own evidence makes several claims about my son’s state of mind and alleged motivation, it would seem fair to question his also.’
Judge Mookerjee considered, then nodded. ‘Very well, Mrs Newby. Continue.’
Sarah drew a deep, grateful breath. ‘That’s true, isn’t it, Mr Brodie? She didn’t just talk to Simon, she was unfaithful
to you, wasn’t she? She even teased you about it. She said Simon was more of a man, a better lover than you.’
‘No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t do that.’ He was very upset now. Pale, anxious, distressed.
‘I suggest that’s exactly what she did. Jasmine could be cruel, couldn’t she?’
‘No. Don’t say that about her. She didn’t mean it.’
‘Did you follow her, after these quarrels? To see where she went?’
‘I don’t ... I ...’ Clearly this question came as a shock. Sarah watched, and waited. ‘I ... did follow her once, yes. I saw her near his - your son’s house. I watched her go in.’
‘Only once? Or more than once?’
‘I ... followed her a few times, yes. I’m not proud of it.’ He looked around court, afraid, suddenly; his performance was going wrong but the audience were still there.
‘When she went into Simon’s house, what did you do?’
‘I ... waited outside a bit, then I went home. I was upset.’
‘Yes. So when Jasmine came home, what then? Did you tell her you’d followed her?’
‘She found out. She saw me once. She ... she laughed at me.’
‘How did you feel then?’
‘Hurt.’ He looked down, embarrassed. ‘I just wanted her to come back to me, that’s all.’
‘I see. And apart from following her, how did you try to make her do that?’
‘I ... the same as I always did. I’d try to be nice to her, make her feel secure and happy in my home. That’s where she belonged. It was a safe place, clean and decent, not a pigsty like his ... your son’s home. I treated her decent.’
‘So the more cruelly she treated you, the more you tried to please her.’
‘Is that wrong? I loved her.’
‘And she twisted you round her little finger. When she saw Simon following her, she wasn’t frightened, she was amused. And she laughed when you did it too, didn’t she?’
‘You make her sound horrible. She wasn’t like that.’
‘She played with people, didn’t she? She played with you both.’
‘She wasn’t playing with me. I was trying to make her see sense. I loved her.’
‘Exactly. So it must have made you angry when you followed her and saw her going into Simon’s house to make love to him. Were you angry?’
‘Of course I was angry, but ... I knew if she’d stay with me, she’d get over it in the end.’
