Beyond Innocence

by Barrie Turner

  Over the next few weeks, Irene Yarwood had been extraordinarily busy. Besides her normal caseload she had involved and immersed herself in the defence of Harry Thompson. During this time, she and Harry Thompson had discussed all topics of his life with Diane Wilson, including all aspects of their sexual exploits. As a result, he was able to answer all questions in a cool, calm and collected manner. No matter what Miss Yarwood said or how it was put to him he had lost all sign of nerves and embarrassment. At the end of it all, Irene admitted that although she also found it an ordeal she felt confident Harry was at least prepared for anything the prosecution threw his way in an effort to provoke him. Throughout Harry’s ordeal, Irene had studied his body language intently. Now, it was time for her to delve a little deeper into the character of her client.

  Once again, they were seated in the drab and dreary interview room.

  “Harry,” she commanded, “you and I, together with rest of your defence team, have to face facts. Don’t look away when I ask you this. I want you to look me straight in the eye and tell me honestly did you kill either of these two women?”

  Without hesitation, he looked straight at her and answered. “No, I did not.”

  She paused for a moment before continuing, “Concerning your association with Diane Wilson you were the last person to see her before her death. You admitted to having had sex with her and then, after a quarrel, she storms off into the night only to fall prey to her killer. She vanishes without trace. After leaving your house nobody but the killer sees her and your DNA fingerprints are all over her. Without finding the killer we only have a slight chance if we have any chance at all. Then there’s Angela Clarkson. Agreed, there’s only circumstantial evidence to go on but being honest, it’s still quite formidable.”

  Harry knew what was coming next. She was going to ask him to plead insanity and he was determined to get in first. “Don’t even think about it Miss Yarwood. If I did it I’d know I’d done it but I didn’t do it. Furthermore I’m not insane and I won’t allow you to use that as a defence on my behalf.”

  During this session she had been intrigued by his habits whilst discussing all aspects of his case, especially the way he rocked on his chair or wrapped his arms around his body. Deep down, although she thought that in some way he might simply be re-assuring himself. At the same time, she couldn’t stop herself thinking “what if?” as she also recalled her psychology studies under Professor Lambert before she switched to law, when he attributed this, or similar behaviour, to a person attempting or endeavouring to control an interview.

  Whilst trying to dismiss these thoughts from her mind, Irene had paused for a moment, and, at first, Harry thought he had won the point until she retorted, “No Harry that’s where you’re wrong. Schizophrenics usually have no idea they have committed crimes and they can quite easily convince themselves they haven’t done anything as they flit between their personalities.”

  This time Harry looked her straight in the eyes and said calmly, “Now you tell me do you think I did it? Do you think I’m mad?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation his counsel replied. “Harry, I’m being paid to defend you not to sit in judgment upon you. My duty to you is to give your case my best shot. After that, it’s up to the jury. The only thing I can add is that along with your family I have to believe in you.” With that, she scooped up her papers and belongings. Then, with a quick goodbye, she left the room.

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  Paula Harris was sitting on the floor. That’s where her husband had left her after another blazing row. Carefully, and hesitantly, she put her hand to her cheek, which still stung from the blow she had taken. Still badly shaken, she got to her feet, and made her way to the bathroom. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror. There was no need. This had happened so many times before that she knew instinctively there wouldn’t be any tell-tale signs, especially after a few hours. “In the morning,” she murmured, “I know what I’ll do – take a trip into Chester and have a look around the jewellery shops. Maybe I can spot a watch similar to the one shown on the television and, with an idea of the price, perhaps I can find it on his visa or, access card. With that she was up and running taking the stairs two at a time whilst shouting to herself, “Christ almighty, why didn’t I think of this before. If the bastard used his card to pay for it then I should be able to find it and when I do, I’ll bloody well prostitute him the little bastard. She was rummaging through the visa statements at speed looking at the prices of the articles bought. Suddenly, one item caught her eye Harrods £350.00, and the date. “Yes, yes,” she exclaimed excitedly “that fits.” She forced herself to calm down for she knew she had to plan her next moves very carefully. This time, she was going to make doubly sure the slippery bastard did not escape again.

  “By God,” she vowed, “I’ll prostitute the little bleeder in bloody good style this time!”

  She poured herself a large vodka and tonic whilst she thought about her next move. She was well aware that she couldn’t ring up the store for the account was in his name only and, because of this, she knew she couldn’t obtain the information from the bank either but, there was a way. There had to be. As she mixed herself another large vodka and tonic, she reasoned she had no other alternative except to contact Quentin Russell. With his contacts, he must be able to find out but she knew that there was a snag. This time there would be a price to pay. She would have to reveal her identity and that of her husband. It would have to come out; there was no alternative.

  She sat alone in the dark. The shadows cast from the flickering log fire danced around the walls making intricate patterns but tonight, she took no real interest because, through her tears, she could hardly see them. She was crying now because she knew she couldn’t go through with it. Once again, that cheating, lying bastard of a husband looked like getting away with it and all because she was too afraid to reveal her own identity to Quentin Russell.

  Quentin Russell reposed in his comfortable armchair. However he wasn’t relaxing at the moment. He had just finished speaking with Robin Millward, a Liverpool based crime reporter, who worked for one of the parent company’s papers. Robin had been asked to nose around Bromborough and in particular the Roundhead Hotel in order to ascertain whether or not Timothy Harris could be placed with Angela Clarkson. Robin soon discovered that the politician had been registered at the Roundhead Hotel and that he had shared a couple of drinks with the assistant manager. There the trail seemed to go cold until he met Detective Sergeant West. It was from this gentleman he learned that an unnamed person had been exonerated and cleared from police enquiries connected to the Angela Clarkson murder enquiry. The detective told him that he couldn’t add anything further due to the fact that all other details were “classified.”

  Quentin rang his editor with this information and between them, it was agreed that not a word of this would be published in any of the publishing group’s papers until the time was deemed appropriate. For now it was considered to be more than sufficient to let Dennis Panter ask the Prime Minister whether or not Timothy Harris was the Member who had been questioned by Merseyside CID during the investigation into the death of Angela Clarkson, the Liverpool prostitute. Quentin and his editor knew this was just enough to keep the pot simmering until they had enough to break the story.

  With that little matter out of the way, he was now contemplating his next move. For some time this evening he’d been thinking about ringing Mrs. Harris at her home. He had the perfect pretence following his last two telephone conversations. When she answered he would simply say, “Rose.” He reasoned that he wouldn’t need to say anything else. If the phone went dead that would be a confirmation alternatively, if there was a sharp intake of breath at the other end, that would also suffice as a confirmation. In Quentin Russell’s mind it was all beginning to fit. Timothy Harris was the Member of Parliament for the area. He was in the area at or about the time the girl was killed. A prominent person had been excluded from
the investigation. It had to be somebody close enough to that person to be able to point the finger in the first place and there couldn’t be anyone closer to Timothy Harris than his wife. He obtained the telephone number and began to dial.

  Paula Harris had stopped crying and she was gradually regaining her composure when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver and cradling it in her neck, she whispered quietly, “Hello.”

  There was the briefest moment of silence. Then she heard the word “Rose”…

  She was absolutely dumbstruck and she couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. Slowly the phone slipped from her grasp as she fainted and lapsed into unconsciousness. When she came to a few moments later, she replaced the receiver and frantically tried to focus her mind. She knew she didn’t have much time and that she would have to telephone Quentin Russell if only to find out what he knew and, how he intended to use it.

  Snatching the phone from the hook, she dialled Quentin Russell’s mobile number. She didn’t have to wait. The call was answered with great rapidity, and she heard his voice softly whispering, “Rose is that you Rose? Please don’t hang up let me explain.”

  Without being abrupt or cutting him short she interrupted him in order to explain her findings and suspicions regarding the Harrods’ entry on her husband’s visa account. Then she confided her fears concerning the effect this information would have on the lives of her and her husband.

  Quentin assured her he would treat any information in the strictest confidence and that nothing would be published without her consent. He also promised that once he acquainted his editor of the position, he felt certain he would also comply with her wishes. In actual fact, it went a lot deeper than that. Quentin Russell and his editor were well aware that they couldn’t publish anything that might have a bearing on the outcome of the trial due to commence shortly. Paula thanked him for his compassion and, understanding. She gently replaced the receiver and slowly mounted the stairs to sleep a deeply troubled sleep.

  Despite his promise, which he fully intended to keep, together with his informant’s identity, Quentin Russell could hardly contain himself. With the information just laid before him he knew that if the Harrods’ entry on Timothy Harris’s visa bill related to a watch given to Angela Clarkson then, obviously, Timothy Harris had lied to the House. On its own that was bad enough but this went a lot deeper for it was also patently obvious that there had been a cover up to protect the identity of Timothy Harris from being revealed. Without a moment’s further delay, Quentin rang his editor and put the facts before him, at the same time ensuring he was fully aware of the guarantee given to Paula Harris. That night neither man slept as each of them was totally preoccupied with events about to happen.

  In Walton Gaol, there was no thought of sleep for certain people either. Officer Fitzgerald was trying desperately hard not to lose his temper with Royston Chambers. Roy wouldn’t agree to leave his request until the next day. He was also adamant that what he had to say could only be divulged in the presence of Detective Inspector Peter Taylor and Detective Sergeant Jim West. Eventually the Inspector was contacted and Chambers was allowed to speak to him. As a result of their conversation, a car, carrying the two officers, was soon speeding on its way to the prison in order to interview Roy Chambers. When they arrived the prisoner, accompanied by a warder, was waiting in the interview room.

  Dispensing with all formalities, Inspector Taylor asked the prisoner what all the panic was about to which, Chambers replied, “Harry Thompson that’s what it’s about. He confessed that he did the Clarkson girl as well as his girl friend. He just came right out with it. Right out of the blue he just came up real close to me and said, “Roy, you had it dead right all along. You know it really was me that did it but what bothers me is, how on earth did you know?” At first I didn’t know what to say because I was getting a bit afraid, especially as he’s in for topping two of them, but then it got like I had to think of something to say sort of to pacify him. So I just said that it always seemed to me that he had a lot on his mind, as if something was bothering him, and if I left him long enough, he would be only too glad to talk to someone about it.”

  For the detectives this was news they could hardly believe. There could be no doubt about it now. Thompson’s goose was well and truly cooked, but there was a lot more work to be done as they both realised that they needed more than the bare bones of a confession. For a start, they needed to find out where Thompson had met Clarkson and whether or not he was a client of hers. They also needed to know where he had killed the girl and how he got the body to the ditch without being seen. Lastly, there was the watch. Thompson had to say that he hadn’t really found it. He had to say he simply pocketed the watch and, realising later he might have to account for it, what better way than to hand it in at the local station and claim it himself in three months’ time. Regarding Diane Wilson, all they needed there was confirmation that he had struck a violent blow to her jaw before strangling her. Before they left they made absolutely certain Roy Chambers was going to be word perfect. With start of the trial only three weeks away, arrangements were made for both the officers to return the next day in order to take down the full details of Thompson’s confession. Before they left Inspector Taylor told Chambers that although they appreciated what he had done it was vital to get the information requested and if he was successful, it would not go unnoticed by the authorities.

  Chapter 12

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for the paper to obtain confirmation that the watch had been purchased from Harrods and this information was quickly passed to Mrs Harris. As agreed the previous evening, it was now up to her when the information would be used. All persons concerned appreciated that she needed time to think and reflect upon these matters. However, that wouldn’t stop embarrassing questions being asked in the House.

  Around mid morning, the two Merseyside police officers were seated around a table with Roy Chambers. Together they were going over all the points featured in the confession Chambers had obtained from Harry Thompson.

  All the information had been put on tape and now the details were being taken down on paper. According to Chambers, Harry Thompson had confessed to killing both women. After he and Diane Wilson had sex at his parent’s home Chambers alleged that Diane Wilson taunted Thompson about his performance. This led to a violent quarrel, during which Thompson struck his girlfriend a severe blow on the lower jaw. She became hysterical and, in an effort to stop her screaming, he grabbed hold of her tights and wrapped them tightly around her neck meaning to release his grip when she stopped struggling. All of a sudden he realised she’d stopped breathing, and he made frantic efforts to revive her but it was all in vain. Knowing that his foster-mother would soon be home and, in a state of complete panic, he wrapped the body and her clothes in plastic bin liners. Then he drove to the quarry lake at Chorley Wood, near Preston, where he consigned her body to the deep hoping that it would never be discovered.

  Chambers then described how Thompson told him he met Angela Clarkson in the Roundhead Hotel and he admitted he was a client of hers. They left the hotel in his car and he drove to the deserted car park on the edge of Eastham Woods. They got out of the car and, at his request, she got undressed. Because he was having some difficulty getting an erection, she became impatient and wanted to leave. This led to an argument during which she started screaming. In an effort to keep her quiet, he wrapped her tights around her neck. Chambers then described how Thompson told him that, in a state of absolute panic, he looked around for somewhere to “dump” the body then he remembered about the ditch just beyond the fence. He said that after he had placed the body in the ditch he went back for the rest of her clothes and belongings. After rifling through her handbag, he threw everything into the ditch except her watch and the money, together with two plastic sachets, which he assumed would contain drugs. Thinking that he might need an alibi later, he returned to the public bar of the hotel where he purchased a glass of bitter.
After drinking his beer, he went home to bed.

  The document was signed and dated as a true statement freely given by Prisoner Roy Chambers whilst on remand at Walton Gaol, Liverpool. Chambers also confirmed that the statement he had given had not been sought by the police nor had he been offered any inducement or subjected to any coercion to obtain the confession from the prisoner Thompson. The officers duly signed the document. Following this, it was signed by the warder who had remained in the room as a witness to the proceedings.

  Roy Chambers was then led away feeling very pleased and smug with himself. He felt that he no longer faced the prospect of a long gaol sentence and with any luck he reflected, he might even be released without charge. It was simply a matter of waiting for another visit from Detective Sergeant West. “Good old Westy”, he muttered on his way back to the remand wing.

  On their way back to the murder HQ both officers were well pleased with their work so far. The confession altered the run of events dramatically and it would considerably shorten the length of the trial. Furthermore, when it was eventually revealed it was bound to cause a sensation but, as far as both officers were concerned, that was now going to be in the hands of the Barristers. Needless to say arrangements were made, post haste, to get copies of the confession sent to the Chambers of the Barrister leading for the prosecution, Gordon Nuttall-Jones.

  The same afternoon, copies of the confession were faxed by the Crown Prosecution Service lawyers to the offices of the defence Kreiff, Kreiff and Isaacs where it made very bad reading for Irene Yarwood. She felt that the rug had been well and truly pulled from beneath her feet. It was one thing to have very little chance of securing an acquittal, but to be faced with this, just before the start of the trial, this had made it a different ball game altogether. Refusing to panic, she decided pretty quickly what she was going to do. She knew she would have to see Harry Thompson first and, if the confession was genuine, she would advise him there was no other alternative except to plead guilty. As she contemplated this scene she found her temper rising fast. Harry Thompson had better watch out because she knew she would be sorely tempted to throttle him herself. If and this was a big if, the confession was false then she might have to consider asking for a delay to the start of the trial whilst some enquiries were made on behalf of Thompson. Whilst her secretary made arrangements for an unscheduled prison visit, as a matter of courtesy, she went to see Sebastian Kreiff the senior partner. First of all to acquaint him with developments and to see whether he could think of anything else or if he could offer any additional professional advice. It was pretty much as she expected from Sebastian. Go and see the prisoner first. Then take it from there. With that brief case in hand, she left the Chambers and headed for Walton.