‘Who are your witnesses?’
‘We can prove she was close to the scene of the crime. CCTV cameras, DNA evidence, and a damaged car. They’re one hundred per cent.’
‘No such thing in a trial. Expert testimony, doubt thrown in, a dispute over the DNA testing. A myriad of possibilities. What else do you have on the woman?’
‘We found a sample of the woman’s hair on the dead woman’s clothing.’
‘That’s better. If you can place McIntyre’s daughter at the scene of the crime, then fine. But her defence could argue that it was coincidental, they’d met somewhere, had a cup of tea together, were great friends. How do you contradict that? Has the charged woman said that she hated her?’
‘Not in so many words.’
‘You see, one hundred per cent becomes ninety, becomes eighty. There’ll be a jury of her peers, good and honest burghers.’
‘People who don’t understand they’re being manipulated, is that it?’
‘The defence chooses a jury based on who they think will be to their advantage. They don’t want people who are going to reason it through; they want malleable minds. Who’s her lawyer?’
‘Fergus Grantham.’
‘Never met the man, but I’ve heard about him. He’s sharp, knows all the tricks.’
‘We’ve arrested McIntyre’s butler. He murdered two men at a farm owned by his boss. Stewed one in acid, the other he chopped up and put in a compost heap.’
‘Charming.’
‘Not if you were there.’
‘One hundred per cent?’
‘We can prove that McIntyre’s car had been there no more than two days before the discovery of the bodies. We’ve also got the imprint of a shoe, matches with the shoe we found in the boot of the vehicle.’
‘Assume that’s provable, and the CSIs and Forensics will probably find more evidence, it’s a stronger case than the other one, McIntyre’s still not guilty of any crime. I am right, aren’t I? It’s him you want.’
‘We have the murderers of three people, both of them closely linked back to him. But no, not directly. We’re not concerned about who and why he had murdered in the past. We’re only interested in finding out why Marcus Matthews was in your house, and, if we can, solve the murder of Stephen Palmer.’
Larry was looking for a change in Stanford’s countenance, an inkling that the man realised the net was closing in on him. All that Stanford had done so far had been to state the obvious.
‘Palmer’s murder goes back twenty years, according to Inspector Vincent,’ Stanford said. ‘Witnesses long dead, memories distorted due to the transit of time. You’d need a confession for that unless you’ve got DNA evidence. Clearly, you haven’t, and back then forensics wasn’t as good as it is now. You can’t prove that, and even if you could, it’s unlikely that a jury would convict. Who was the murderer?’
‘Marcus Matthews and Hamish McIntyre.’
‘One dead, the other getting on in years: poor health, a tired old man.’
‘A defence ploy to protect him?’
‘The truth. It’ll be used to maximum effect.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘There was an attempt to pin the murder of a drug dealer onto McIntyre. This would have been in 1999.’
‘Devon Toxteth.’
‘The investigation didn’t go far, and no one’s been found guilty of the crime.’
‘You mentioned that McIntyre was in poor health?’
‘The man was a heavy smoker, lung cancer.’
‘He seems fit enough,’ Larry said.
‘He might be, but you’ve not seen him move fast, have you?’
‘He spends most of his time with his orchids.’
‘A complex man. No wonder the daughter is as mixed up as he is.’
‘Do you want to see him convicted?’
‘If I had a gun, I’d shoot him myself,’ Stanford said. The intensity of the man’s admission shocked Wally Vincent, shocked Larry.
‘Are you capable of murder?’
‘I suppose not, but the man brings out strong emotions in me.’
Larry was more than ever convinced that Stanford’s house in Bedford Gardens was not chosen idly by Marcus Matthews and his murderer; there was a reason.
‘Mr Stanford, we’ve solved three murders. That must convince you that we’re not easily dissuaded. Something ties your house in London to Marcus Matthews. We’ll continue until we understand what it is. You do realise this?’
‘I realise it. You’re like that damn dog across the road that Vincent dealt with. Do you suspect me of holding out on you?’
‘We always have.’
‘I visited Yanna White in prison. It was two weeks before her death.’
‘That’s never been mentioned.’
‘Yanna was a very secretive woman; I’ve always respected her wishes. In death as in life, she didn’t want anyone to ever know her true story.’
‘Are you about to tell us now?’
‘For some reason that day, she spoke to me as a friend. She told me things that were never mentioned in court; what had happened to her in Romania and in England. And how she had got away from them and found her way, eventually meeting her husband, forging a career for herself, loving her children. She never wanted them to know.’
‘What are you going to tell us?’
‘Hamish McIntyre was up to his neck in the trafficking of women, not that it could ever be proved.’
‘How did she know?’
‘She saw him with her captors once.’
‘How did she get away?’
‘Whatever his deal with them, she never knew. But McIntyre had seen her, and she became part of the agreement. He set her up in a place, not far from Tower Bridge. For a while, he’d come over once or twice a week, but he soon tired of her. And then one day, he gave her some money and let her go.’
‘He acted honourably towards her.’
‘To her, but what about the others? Yanna was special, the others weren’t. Can you understand the untold misery that she and others were subjected to?’
