A Game of Proof

warrior, Mandy Kite, and a nurse, Ian Jinks.

Mandy Kite, after prolonged persuasion, had agreed to tell the ‘pigs’ court’ about David Brodie’s furious argument with Jasmine two days before she was killed, and that he had threatened to ‘sort her out’ on the morning she’d died. She would also say that once when she’d been with Jasmine they’d been followed by someone who might have been Simon but might equally well have been David.

Ian Jinks was a nurse whom Larry and Emily had found. He was prepared to testify about the change David’s relationship with Jasmine had created in him; at first he had been delighted, ecstatically happy, then increasingly worried and anxious as he began to suspect that she was still seeing Simon. On the night Jasmine was killed Brodie, according to Jinks, had been angry and upset, unable to do his work properly. Just before he left he had said he would like to ‘cut someone’s head off’ which was quite out of character.

‘My Lord, my learned friend intends to use these two witnesses simply to accuse Brodie,’ Phil Turner insisted. ‘There is no direct relevance to the guilt or innocence of her son.’

‘That seems a reasonable interpretation,’ the judge murmured. ‘Mrs Newby?’

It was not only reasonable but accurate, Sarah knew. That was exactly what she wanted to do. Her problem was the second part of Turner’s statement. What connection did these witnesses have to Simon?

‘Their testimony is entirely relevant, My Lord,’ she insisted earnestly. ‘This trial is about whether or not my son murdered Jasmine Hurst. If I can demonstrate a reasonable possibility that the murder was committed by someone else, then clearly that is evidence that the jury should consider. If it’s possible that Brodie killed her, then it’s possible that my son didn’t. There is a reasonable doubt.’

Turner frowned. ‘The doubt is only reasonable if you can create a credible case for Brodie’s involvement. As it is, you have no witnesses who put him anywhere near the scene …’

‘Neither do you,’ Sarah retorted. ‘No one saw Simon anywhere near the body. Whereas Brodie lives just a quarter of a mile away.’

‘True, but we have forensic evidence. Semen, blood on his trainers and the knife …’

‘I’ve accounted for the blood and semen in cross-examination, Phil. You know I have.’

‘So you say.’ Turner laughed drily. ‘It depends whether the jury believe your story or not. Anyway why would Brodie kill her?’

‘Jealousy, of course!’ Sarah faced the judge eagerly. ‘This girl was playing them both along, they both had equal reason to be furious with her. That’s the motive — the only motive — which the prosecution have to explain why Simon would kill her. Sexual jealousy. Well, these two witnesses give Brodie exactly the same motive — in fact, they show his jealousy was much stronger. The prosecution have no witnesses to say that Simon threatened to cut her head off …’

‘He hit her, though, didn’t he?’ Turner interrupted. ‘In full public view.’

‘Yes … all right, he hit her, but Brodie was seen to scream at her and make threats …’

‘Not necessarily against Jasmine though,’ the judge pointed out. ‘As I read Mr Jinks’ statement it seems he was threatening to cut Simon’s head off. If he meant it at all, that is.’

‘It’s not clear who he was threatening, My Lord,’ Sarah said despairingly. ‘All I am asking is to put this witness on the stand, then Phil can cross-examine him as much as he likes. Let the jury decide.’

‘Mr Turner?’ The judge leaned back, folding his arms.

‘I understand my friend’s passion, My Lord. But on balance, I believe her argument is flawed. This trial is to establish the guilt or innocence of Simon Newby, no one else. If there were a single shred of evidence to put Brodie near the body, then I would say yes, in the interests of justice it must be put before the jury. But there isn’t. All she has is this suggestion of motive which, quite frankly, isn’t good enough. As I see it, Brodie probably was in love with the girl and is genuinely heartbroken by her death. To allow further suggestions that he’s the murderer, with no evidence to back it up, would seem to be an abuse of process. And rather cruel, too.’

Sarah shrivelled inside. ‘But there is evidence, My Lord. The evidence of these witnesses and his own cross-examination …’

Judge Mookerjee waved a hand to silence her. ‘We’ve been through all that, Mrs Newby. And I agree with the prosecution. The evidence of these two witnesses sheds no light whatsoever on the actions and culpability of the accused, Simon Newby. So I shall exclude them.’

There was no more Sarah could do. She rose, and walked across the street to her chambers. Where she met Lucy, with a pen in one hand and a cheese sandwich in the other.

‘Any luck?’ she queried.

‘No.’ Sarah flung her wig down in disgust. ‘We just lost half the defence before I’ve even started.’

Terry and Harry were in the car outside Gary’s flat. When he arrived, they got out and followed him to his door. He turned and saw them. ‘Oh no, not you again.’

‘This isn’t an arrest,’ Terry said. ‘For once. Just a few questions. Can we come in?’

‘What if I say no?’

‘We’ll do it down the station.’ Terry smiled. ‘You choose.’

Gary scowled, and led them into a room decorated with beer cans and old plates of curry. ‘That cow Sharon been complaining again, has she?’

‘No,’ Terry chose a seat carefully. ‘It’s about those pictures I showed you in the station. Of your mate Sean.’

‘He’s not my mate.’ Gary opened the fridge for a can of export. ‘Who says he is?’

‘Well, quite a lot of people, as a matter of fact. Sharon, for one.’

‘What does she know about him?’ He supped his beer truculently

‘More than you’d think.’ Terry studied the man’s face, on which he thought he detected a sheen of anxious sweat.. ‘Oh come, on Gary, don’t mess me about. This lad was your so-called alibi the night you raped Sharon. Remember?’

‘I were found not guilty, copper.’ Gary slammed the can down on his chair, bringing froth through its top. ‘Christ, how many times? I did not rape Sharon. OK?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Terry sighed. ‘And you weren’t in prison with Sean either, I suppose?’

‘I were locked up with five hundred and odd lads. Doesn’t mean I knew ‘em all, does it?’

‘You shared a cell with this one. Sean Patrick Murphy. It says so here — look, on the prison records.’ Terry held out a paper which Gary ignored. ‘With his photo.’

‘All right, so I did. What’s that to do with you?’

‘I need to talk to him, Gary. About some serious sexual assaults. That’s why we’re here.’

‘We need your help to find him,’ Harry put in.

‘You must be bloody daft, the pair of you.’ Gary shook his head in derision ‘You couldn’t pin owt on me, so now you want to pin it on him. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘We’d remember your help,’ Harry offered. ‘Next time you were in trouble.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Gary took a long swig of his beer. ‘As if I’m a stinking snitch. Which crimes, for instance?’

Was he going to bite, Terry wondered. As neutrally as he could, he said: ‘You remember that woman who was murdered? Maria Clayton? You did some building work on her house.’

‘And you thought I killed her, didn’t you, Mr Bateson? Only I didn’t, see.’

‘Yes, well.’ Terry looked at his hands. ‘Sean delivered some tiles there, for Robsons.’

‘So?’

‘And he screwed her too, Gary. Same as you did. Almost.’

‘She’d screw anyone, for money. Except you, maybe.’

Behind the routine insolence the man was interested now, Terry could see.

‘It doesn’t surprise you, that?’

‘No. Why should it? That’s what tarts are for.’ There was no sign of surprise, Terry noted, no apparent awareness of Sean’s sexual disability.

‘And he delivered some more building materials to the student lodgings where Karen Whitaker lived. Remember her, Gary?’

‘Her with the nudey pics? Yeah — you thought I chased her in’t woods, didn’t you? Prat!’

‘Sean delivered on the day you found those pictures, Gary. Did you show them to him?’