During the break, some of the orchestra approached Sally to congratulate and thank her on her performance. It was just another occasion to play for Sally and so her cold stare seemed to reject the praise offered until one member mentioned Sally was autistic and the word flew round the orchestra players like a scherzo volante.
The finale in the second half was Beethoven’s Clarinet Concerto. But of course there was no clarinet as the programme stated. The conductor introduced Sally after announcing that Bolton would receive a world premiere performance of Beethoven’s Harmonica Concerto. Initially, this news was met by audience titters but applause broke out and swelled the chests of the good and worthy citizens of Bolton at this special occasion for the Lancashire town.
The harmonica had to wait several bars before entering and this gave the conductor a missed heart beat in case Sally set off prematurely like an errant Ascot horse. But her introductory notes were seamless and the years of perfecting the work in her bedroom came to fruition. After the final chord was heard the conductor stepped down from his rostrum and held Sally’s hand up high to the appreciative orchestra. Then he lifted it aloft to the audience as Sally faced the applause of the proud Bolton town. She was restrained. She could not leave the stage – and the conductor made sure. As the applause began to die down the audience called for more. “Encore!” they shouted and the conductor asked Sally if she had a favourite tune to play.
‘The Romance,’ said Sally.
‘You mean Shostakovich’s Romance from The Gadfly?’
‘Yes,’ said Sally with a frown. What other Romance had he in mind she thought as her stance briefly turned towards the box where Tom was seated with his parents and Sally’s mother. She smiled at them as the conductor informed the orchestra of the selected music. Then she saw the audience before her. They were expecting more music and she would give them that. She could play many different pieces and wondered if the Romance would be appreciated. She moved toward the front of the stage where a young lady sat with her parents. Sally’s eyes focussed on her like a narrow beam of light.
‘Do you like Shostakovich’s Romance from the Gadfly?’ she asked.
The girl did not speak. She was dumfounded at being asked. She smiled at her and nodded. It was a good enough signal for Sally to return to her spot on the stage.
The orchestra keyed in the music on their iPads and placed them on their stands. All knew the piece with its melodic tune but of course no one had ever heard it on the harmonica. Expectation on the audience’s minds was mirrored in the thoughts of the symphony orchestra of Bolton that evening.
Once more a note perfect performance was heard on that warm June night at the Octagon. The local paper music journalist looked forward to writing her report over a glass of claret at home that night. She was inspired by what she had heard.
The following morning Inspector Reeves appeared at the Dunning house.
‘Good morning Mrs Dunning,’ he said, showing his identification. ‘I’d like to take one more look in the attic again. Pieces of chalk from the snooker room board are not showing any conclusive fingerprints. I’d just like another look. Will that be convenient?’
‘I see you have a camera. You mean look for evidence?’ asked Elsie, as she untied her kitchen apron.
‘Yes, a thorough look. That’s why I have the camera,’ he replied with one foot on the door mat.
‘Yes, I suppose that might catch the villains,’ she said as she absent-mindedly adjusted her hair.
‘That’s what I am hoping too,’ the inspector said with a pleasant smile. ‘You know, we think we can get them for a long jail sentence. I’m just hoping I can find some more to lengthen their stay at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’
At that moment Molly escaped. She ran out of the house and round and round the police officer’s car. She barked incessantly. Sally was in hot pursuit.
‘Molly, come to me Molly,’ but it had become a game and Molly would not come back to Sally until she was exhausted. The Inspector took his time. But after only a few minutes he had taken a very significant photo of a chalk fingerprint from underneath the snooker table lip. He felt sure he now had the icing on the cake.
Sally returned to the house holding Molly in her arms. ‘I don’t think she’ll run away, Mum. She does like to chase me though,’ she said as happy as a young child without a care in the world.
12
Light at the End of the Tunnel
Sally did not often have mail addressed to her. This was a rare exception. Her mother brought the letter through to her as she played her harmonica. She handed it over along with a paper knife. Sally did not stop to open it until she had concluded her music. She was playing Bist du Bei Mir by J. S. Bach. Elsie sat down to enjoy the classical piece.
‘Beautiful. That was beautiful Sally. You have not played that for a long time.’
Sally, as usual, did not have a smile even for her mother. She had played the music before many times in her head as well as on her harmonica. It was not a special moment in her mind. Her mother handed the letter to her. Sally opened it and passed it back to her to read.
The letter was from Carolee. Elsie read it silently before informing Sally if its contents. It was, however, good news as Sally could see from her mother’s wide open smile.
‘Sally it seems you have got a record deal, you know, a CD to record. Isn’t that good?’
Sally took a moment to understand the deal.
‘What do I have to do?’ she said, as she tried to cope with the consequences of the information.
‘Carolee says you will record twenty pieces of music. You will be going to London to discuss the contents with a record producer. She’ll make arrangements for that. It seems the local review in Bolton got the music world thinking a harmonica played so well with an orchestra was unique. It’s a selling point.’
‘I’m not selling my harmonica,’ she said as her body tensed.
‘No dear. You are selling nothing but you might be making some money.’
Inspector Mark Rawlings pinged the Dunning case over to the Crown Prosecution Service, turned his computer to solitaire and made a coffee. His part was done. As he lifted his mug to the ceiling, draining the last black grains of his four star strength coffee, the phone rang. It was the Crown Prosecution Office wishing him to come down to talk about the case he had just submitted.
He enjoyed his official walks. Today the sun shone as he made his way down through the shopping mall to the Crown Offices and entered.
‘Good morning,’ he said to the desk official, Simon.
‘And it is a good morning to you too sir. So what can we do for you today busy Inspector?’
‘A request from prosecutor Helen Regan,’ he said with a grin. ‘She wants to see me.’
‘Helen Regan? I’ll give her a ring.’
As he did so Inspector Mark Rawlings wandered round the vestibule. Domestic Abuse and Neighbourhood Watch posters caught his eye. He speed read them, hoping they had an effect in the communities of the town.
‘She’ll be with you in a moment, Inspector,’ said Simon returning the phone to its cradle.
The moment took two minutes before the swing doors opened and Helen Regan appeared. She was dressed in a two piece grey suit. Her heels were at least two inches high but she walked with confidence, grace and rhythm. Between two fingers on her right hand were the stains of a smoker.
‘Hi Mark. Glad you could make it,’ she said throwing the file on the table at reception.
‘Heard of Donkey and Bones?’ asked Mark while Helen smiled with raised eyebrows as if the names were not unknown to her.
‘God, I used to live, breath and dream about these two. They’ve been quiet for a while but they went far too far with this one,’ she said shaking her head from side to side and tut-tutting at the same time.
‘So you dreamt about Bones and Donkey
did you?’ laughed Mark.
‘Oh, yes, I did but not the way your dirty mind is telling me,’ Helen said digging a playful elbow into his ribs.
‘Ouch,’ that hurt.
‘Police assault then?’
Mark laughed. ‘I bet you get enough of those.’
Helen did not need to say any more.
Then she saw the gravity on Mark’s face.
‘Okay, let’s use this room,’ she said pointing with her raised arm.
They entered an interview room where they sat down opposite one another.
‘Run over the case for me. I haven’t the time to take all of this in right now,’ she said flipping her fingers through the bulky papers.
‘Okay, we’ve got housebreaking, fraud, assault, selling stolen goods, possession and selling of drugs, oh and a breach of the peace on Bones who went berserk in the police station,’ then he took a deep breath.
‘Both in custody, I presume?’
‘Yes, you bet,’ he said adjusting his black tie.
‘Since when?’ asked Helen
‘9 a.m. this morning.’
‘Okay first appearance tomorrow. Any bail requests?’ she asked looking over her glasses at Mark.
‘Not that I know of.’ Mark shook his head with pursed lips.
‘What’s your position on that?’
Mark sat forward and spoke slowly. ‘Must be detained; victim at risk and that brings me to the issue.’
‘An issue?’ queried Helen. ‘What’s on your mind then?’
‘It will be on your mind too when this goes to trial. There is the only one victim but she’s autistic and brain damaged. You’ll have to tread carefully or we might lose the case.’
‘A possibility?’
‘A probability on Sally’s evidence. Sure as can be. She’s a Yes woman. She’ll see the accused as friends perhaps and cave in on cross examination.’
Helen looked up at Mark. ‘Vulnerable witness, special measures required then. I’d better inform the bench.’
‘Will that make any difference?’ wondered Mark.
‘It will keep the case on track. As long as I’m not up against Ralph Brown, I’ll have a fairly easy ride.’
‘Yeah, Ralph Brown would defend a mass murderer with all his tricks, get him off and let him roam the streets for his next victim. God, I hope it won’t be him.’
‘I hope so too for my sake and for this Sally girl too.’
The next day Bones and Donkey were taken from the police cells to the Magistrate’s court. The duty solicitor was Peter Kushner. He had spoken to the accused and was ready to proceed.
Miss Helen Regan was pleased to see Peter representing both accused until she remembered he was from the same partnership as Ralph Brown at Brown and Meadows Solicitors. Presumably first appearances were for the rookies in his firm.
Judge Peter Tuchman entered the courtroom. He was a man past retirement years which meant he was thoroughly acquainted with the laws of the land as he was with the couple of accused before him. He turned towards Helen Regan and nodded slightly for her to begin the proceedings.
‘My Lord these are the joint cases of Ms. Donna Riley also known as Donkey and Mr. Barry Ritchie also known as Bones. They are jointly accused of housebreaking, fraud, assault, possession of stolen goods and possession and distribution of class A and class B drugs. Mr. Ritchie is also accused of a Breach of the Peace. The Crown opposes any bail conditions for both accused due to the very serious nature of the offences and as the victim in this case is classified as being a vulnerable adult,’ she said and sat down, the case against release having been expounded.
Peter Kushner took to his feet. ‘My Lord my friend has stated this is a serious case. Well, fraud and housebreaking are, but as the accused have been properly cautioned and charged, the seriousness of the offences have been taken on board and understood by my clients. They will be of good behaviour until the case is called, my Lord.’
Peter sat down and they both awaited his Lordship’s decision. The Judge returned his pen to his inside pocket after a few moments. His decision was not long in the making, nor, it must be said, a very demanding one.
‘Mr. Kushner, you forgot to mention they have also been charged with assault and drug offences. I have not forgotten. You tell me the accused will be on good behaviour till the proceedings take place. Good and behaviour are two words I suggest your clients do not fully understand. Both the accused will be detained on remand for the following reasons: Firstly because of the seriousness of the offences, secondly these alleged offenders are as familiar with the court as I am and therefore not first time offenders and thirdly and last but not least, the vulnerable adult victim needs protection in the intervening time and, I am sure, subsequently too.’
Helen relaxed with a sigh. Mr. Kushner’s pen scribbled away for a while before his file closed.
‘The case is adjourned and will proceed to trial at the Crown Court on Monday 23rd August.’
Helen closed her file, left the court house as soon as the Judge had disappeared and before returning to her office, lit up one of her French Gitans. A trail of smoke danced along behind her bringing to noses the French essence as she walked, slowly, back to work.
Elsie and Sally went to London and met Carolee. They were driven to Abbey Road and after coffee, Geoff Cook, the music director, informed them that what Sally had performed at the Bolton concert had been recorded and her harmonica had come over very well. The concerto was quite long and so he hoped, for variety’s sake, that some shorter pieces of Sally’s music could be recorded.
Sally had already thought of some more music and Sailing By, the tune she never failed to hear each night on Radio 4 before she turned out the light and fell asleep, was accepted.
The orchestra was far from the formal players in Bolton. They seemed to be a ragtag of session musicians but the quality of their harmonies were superb. Elsie had a grandstand seat in the adjoining room where Geoff played with many buttons and slide knobs. She wore headphones while his expertise was in bringing the music to tonal perfection and to the personal modern apps folk had these days.
After lunch Amy McDonald arrived to sing some jazz to accompany Sally. When she sang That Old Devil Called Love and I Want To Know What Love Is, Sally was in her element. But the last track was Spring from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It was her virtuoso spot. It gave the CD depth and quality having some classical music as well as some popular melodies and Geoff was pleased with the production. It was now left to the Warner Music Group record company to promote the disc and they did, so effectively. It was played regularly on Classic FM and its position on the classical chart began to rise.
Sally took her radio to bed for the next three nights and with Classic FM being played till the small hours, she heard her performances time after time. Eventually it bored her. She lost interest and slept soundly.
As the popularity of the disc increased, Geoff was quick to suggest another set of tunes but Sally was not sure about all the fuss around her and had to be persuaded by Elsie before she chose a further set of performance delights.
The following week Sally had a visitor. She was a long haired pale faced woman in her forties wearing chinos styled trousers and some solid loafers on her feet. She introduced herself as Joyce, a criminal justice social worker.
‘Sally it’s my job to make the court case as simple and comfortable for you at each stage.’
‘Yes, I see.’
‘You don’t mind if I sit in on the interview? I can reinforce what you are saying to Sally later on. You understand?’ asked Elsie holding onto the back of an armchair.
‘Yes, I understand. It’s not an interview, however. I’m simply preparing Sally for a difficult time in Court. Please join us Mrs Dunning,’ said Joyce ushering her to a seat with her right hand.
‘Of course, if they accep
t all the charges, then you will not have to give evidence. But perhaps we must prepare for the trial entering a second week. That’s the worst scenario.’ Joyce sat back to gauge Sally’s response but it came from her mother instead.
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst scenario,’ said Elsie ringing her hands. ‘If they are found not guilty then that will only be the start of Sally’s troubles, surely?’
Joyce scratched her head with her pen. ‘I think a finding of guilt is more on my mind. But in the unlikely event that there is no case to answer, that would mean additional support which we would provide. Personally, I am not expecting a guilty plea. I feel it will go to trial.’
Joyce spent the next three quarters of an hour making suggestions, some of which left Sally perplexed.
‘If you have a book, a comic or something to distract you in the waiting room that would be helpful,’ she suggested.
‘I’ve got my harmonica,’ said Sally.
‘Hmmm...well... bring it along anyway but you might not be allowed to play it.’
‘So why bring it?’ asked Sally staring at Joyce.
She looked up at Elsie who herself was distracted by the arrival of the postman. ‘Then don’t bring it, Sally. What about a comic.’
The Trials of Sally Dunning and a Clerical Murder Page 10
