“You want me to tell you what they talked about?” Tabitha continued.
“Just say it,” said Dudley irritably.
Tabitha knew she had got under his skin. It made her feel better.
“Wojcik is adamant that he told Stuart Rees that a tree had fallen across the road and that he was stuck in the village for several hours.”
Dudley looked puzzled as if he was wondering: Is that it?
“What do you think of that?” Tabitha asked.
“Not much.”
“Well, I’m going to give you a moment,” Tabitha said. “I’ve spent months in prison and you put me there.”
“I did not put you there.”
“I lie awake every night, looking at the ceiling. Sometimes I’m wondering who’s going to be the next person to die in the prison and whether it’ll be me. But mainly I think about the case, over and over.”
“Please, Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday, “ask a question.”
“This is a question,” said Tabitha. “I just haven’t got to the end of it yet. So, Detective Chief Inspector Dudley, I’ve mentioned the plastic sheet, I’ve mentioned the bloodstains and I’ve mentioned Lev Wojcik’s conversation with Stuart Rees. What does that make you think?”
There was a long pause.
“Nothing in particular.”
“Can I say something that maybe you should think about?”
Dudley didn’t reply. He just made a dismissive gesture with his hands.
“I’ll start with the last bit. Have you seen the CCTV footage?”
“I’ve seen the relevant bits.”
“You saw that Stuart Rees drives out of the village at”—she looked down at her notes—“ten thirty-four.”
“I don’t remember the exact time.”
“And drives back just six minutes later. That’s barely enough time to get out of the village. Why did he come back?”
“Because the road was blocked.”
Tabitha didn’t speak. She just waited. Someone coughed in the public gallery. She could hear traffic outside.
“Ms. Hardy?” said Judge Munday.
“Yes?”
“Do you have a question?”
“I’m just waiting for the detective to think about his answer.”
“We’re not here to watch people think. Please ask another question.”
“All right. Why would Stuart Rees try to drive out of the village when he knew the road was blocked?”
“Because he forgot,” said Dudley.
“Forty minutes after being told?”
“He did, though, didn’t he?”
“You mean Stuart Rees?”
“Who else would I mean?”
“I want to show you something.” She turned to Michaela. “Have we sorted it?”
“I think so.”
It turned out that it hadn’t entirely been sorted. They had a laptop connected to large screens on two walls of the court. As Michaela tapped on the keyboard all that was visible on the screen were the desktop files.
“It’s at about ten thirty-four,” said Tabitha in a hiss.
“I know. I’m clicking on the file but nothing’s happening.”
There were whispers around the court. Someone gave a single snort of laughter.
“Have you tried restarting it?” said Tabitha.
“Hang on,” said Michaela and then suddenly the image was there, and once more, even in the courtroom, Tabitha felt she was back in Okeham. There was only the movement of the tree branches to show that it wasn’t a fixed image. Tabitha looked at the time code. It was coming, coming and then, with perfect timing, the car swept across the screen and disappeared. Tabitha looked at Michaela.
“Can you go back and freeze on the car?”
She did so. Then she fast-forwarded six minutes and showed the car returning and she froze on that as well. Nothing could be seen through the car, not even an outline.
“You can’t make out Stuart Rees as the driver, can you?”
“Who else would it be?” said Dudley.
“Can I suggest a different version?” said Tabitha.
“You can suggest anything you like.”
“My suggestion is that the murder wasn’t committed in my house. It was committed in his house. That’s what the plastic sheeting suggests. Did you search Rees’s house?”
“No.”
“Did you do a forensic analysis of his house?”
“No.”
“Then the killer wraps the body in the plastic sheeting and puts it in the boot of Rees’s car. The killer drives the car out of the village to dispose of the body but the road’s blocked and he or she has to turn back. They arrive back in the village. But where to leave the body? The immediately obvious hiding place would have been my house. Near Stuart’s house, a shed outside. The killer dumps the body, intending to come back for it later. What do you think of that?”
Dudley took a long time to answer. He seemed to be going over it in his mind. “It sounds ridiculously far-fetched.”
“It fits with the evidence,” said Tabitha loudly. “The evidence that you didn’t manage to find.”
“You’re just trying to stir things up,” said Dudley. “None of this shows you didn’t do it!”
“Look, don’t you understand what you’ve done?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nor do you.”
“Your whole investigation was wrong. You just assumed it was Stuart Rees driving out of the village and back and because of that you put his murder after that time. But I’m saying—suggesting—that it happened before his car was captured on CCTV. His body was in that car. It took place between nine-fifty and ten thirty-five, which is a much smaller window of time than the one you’ve been working on. And one that you completely ignored. The time you thought it couldn’t have occurred in was precisely the time it must have. Your investigation all happened in the wrong place and it was based on the wrong time. What a farce. No wonder you ended up with an innocent person in prison.”
The air felt electric; she could almost feel everyone in the court holding their breath.
“That’s crap,” said Dudley finally, and very angrily. His gray eyes looked like gunmetal.
“Fuck you,” said Tabitha.
“Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday, almost shouting. “Stop that. And you too, Inspector. You will maintain decency and respect in this courtroom. Ms. Hardy, have you any more questions?”
“No, I’m done with him,” Tabitha said angrily and sat down.
Seventy-Four
Tabitha sat down next to Michaela.
“Are you all set?” Michaela said.
Tabitha looked across at Simon Brockbank. He was due to
