The devil you know, p.22
The Devil You Know, page 22
Augustine folded her arms. Jabal watched her with his hands behind his back.
“DI McGarry is our first witness this morning,” Beck said with a half-smile. “Let’s ask her if it’s significant.”
Augustine glared.
“The defense’s request is granted,” the judge said, holding out the file to a court clerk. “The silencer is hereby submitted as evidence. The details will be emailed to you and hard copies made for your files. Then we can start.”
“This is it, boss,” Beck murmured, scrolling on her phone as they re-entered the courtroom. “The break we’ve been waiting for. Got the files. I’ll add them to our slides.”
“Do you really think Bukhari did it?” Hilary asked quietly, trying not to stare at the grim-faced young man who again sat near the back, staring at nothing.
“Dunno,” Beck said, following his gaze. “But we don’t have to know, do we? Just make the jury think it’s possible.”
“What’s happened?” Amelia asked, standing with Dom as they returned to the table. Eloise was talking on the phone and turned away.
“Some new evidence,” Hilary said as the clerk brought him their paper copies. He explained in an undertone. A light lit in Amelia’s pale eyes. Dom clenched his jaw.
“This is it,” Amelia said. “This is what proves he didn’t do it.”
“It’s a good start,” Hilary said. “We just need to get McGarry to admit it’s significant.”
“She won’t do that,” Dom said. He was staring at Bukhari. As if sensing the look, the young man returned his gaze. The hatred that twisted his face was intense. “He did it?” Dom’s voice was low, his expression tight. “It was him? He killed them?”
“We don’t know,” Hilary said. “And neither do the police. It’s circumstantial evidence at best. But anything that points the focus away from you is good.”
Dom met his eyes. Pain darkened them to jet. Hilary’s heart clenched. But then the judge was announced, and the jury filed in.
“Defense counsel, if you’d like to call your next witness?”
“Defense calls Detective Inspector Sharon McGarry.”
McGarry strode to the witness box with her back straight and her head held high. Her graying hair was tied in a tight bun and her round face was calm, her mouth a thin line as she took her oath and sat, contemplating Hilary with keen, amber eyes.
“DI McGarry, thank you for joining us today. You oversaw the investigation into the murders of Lizzie and Dean Wood, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“How much involvement would you say you had in the case?”
“I coordinated the investigation, analyzed the forensic reports and conducted the bulk of the interviews.”
“Including those with my client, is that right?”
The hard eyes slid past Hilary to Dom. “That’s correct.”
“What was the first thing that made you suspect Mr. Hart-Gosford?”
“When we discovered Lizzie Wood’s former employment at Homes with Hart.”
Hilary raised his eyebrows. “So you began to suspect my client purely on the basis that one of the victims had, up until a few weeks before her death, been employed by his wife’s company?”
“Yes.”
“A bit tenuous, don’t you think?”
McGarry regarded him levelly. “Not when we considered his criminal record…his violent past.”
Hilary took a breath, resisting glancing at the jury. “Yes, let’s talk about that a bit more. You were the arresting officer in how many of my client’s previous offenses?”
“Three.”
“So three out of the five times my client has been arrested prior to this crime, you made the arrest?”
“That’s what I said, yes.”
“Why is that?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “The crimes were committed within my jurisdiction.”
“Would you say, Detective Inspector, that your history with my client has biased you against him?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not. I deal with the evidence presented to me and make a judgment based on the facts. Nothing more.”
“But there are so few facts in this case,” Hilary went on, not breaking eye contact. “So little actual evidence.”
“We have your client’s DNA at the scene. We have witness testimony stating that your client was in a sexual relationship with one of the victims—”
“Miss Holden’s testimony was hardly conclusive. Her revelation about the condoms wasn’t in her initial statement. And she didn’t even know the name of the person she claims Lizzie planned to blackmail.”
“Objection,” Jabal said, standing. “Attempting to antagonize the witness, my lady.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll rephrase,” Hilary said. “So, you are stating before this court that you believe the evidence presented to this court is utterly conclusive? That it’s not possible for anyone else to have committed this crime?”
“I am.”
“Even though it is a matter of public record that you’ve arrested him three times in the past, including once for drink driving, even though, on that particular occasion, he passed the breathalyzer test?”
McGarry’s eyes glinted. “Your client was drunk, Mr. Whyte. There’s CCTV footage of him unable to keep in his lane. He nearly knocked over a cyclist.”
“But he passed the breathalyzer, correct?”
“He did,” McGarry added after a pause.
“A fact that meant he was never charged?”
“I know the law, counselor. I also know that your client is a violent criminal who was being threatened with blackmail by Lizzie Wood, and we have built a very strong case to prove as such.”
“You are using words like ‘know’ and ‘prove’. But you don’t know, do you? And you haven’t proved anything.”
“I have been a serving police office for almost twenty years,” McGarry stated. “My experience has taught me that unfortunately people who are either desperate or evil are capable of pretty much anything.”
Hilary raised his eyebrows, even as his blood cooled in his veins. “Evil’s a strong word, Detective Inspector.”
“I don’t use it lightly,” she said. “But to answer your question, counsel, it’s important the court understands that the evidence against your client is highly suggestive, even if you want to spin it as inconclusive. They also need to understand that in cases without hard evidence, which do happen, we look at everything else.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. Your client has a violent criminal past. He has no alibi. He had access to the sort of weapon used, and there is evidence that he had a motive.” She transferred her hard stare to Dom. Dom held it steadily, his hands folded on the table in front of him, not moving, his face unreadable. “You say my personal history with your client is an obstacle to my judgment. I and any other police officer would say it’s exactly the opposite. I know what that man is capable of, and I know he killed those people. I just can’t prove it.”
A murmur went through the court. Augustine was staring at the jury, and he knew she was trying to work out, just like him, which part of the arresting officer’s statement had hit home the most.
Hilary pulled out the TV remote and clicked the display on. Beck swiped on her iPad until the file photograph of the silencer came up.
“Can you tell us what this is, DI McGarry?”
McGarry paused. “It’s a silencer.”
“This turned up just this morning,” Hilary said to the jury. “The defense has attained permission from Judge Fotheringham to submit it as evidence. Can you tell me where this was found, Detective Inspector?”
“It was found in the drain of an alley in Hammersmith.”
“Whereabouts in Hammersmith, exactly?”
McGarry met his eye with a sharp look. “Behind Curzon Street.”
“This is bullshit.” All eyes turned toward Bukhari, who was now on his feet, red-faced, stabbing his finger at the screen. “I’ve never seen that fucking thing before. You’re setting me up! You—”
“Mr. Bukhari,” Judge Fotheringham attempted to interrupt, but the young man raved on, weaving between the chairs toward Hilary.
“You put that there! You fuckers are trying—”
Security intercepted him and tried to steer him toward the doors. He shouted louder, pulling at the guards’ grip, ignoring Fotheringham’s warnings of arrest.
He only shouted louder as he was dragged toward the exit, gesturing wildly at Dominic. “You did this. You fucking killed her, you bastard, murdering asshole. I loved her. You—”
The doors shut behind them and an eerie hush fell. All eyes turned toward Hilary. McGarry sat ramrod-straight in the witness box, her face set.
“For those of the court who don’t know, Mr. Bukhari lives on Curzon Street—”
“Objection,” Jabal stood. “My lady, the defense is making accusations he neither has the evidence or the authority to make—”
“My lady agreed to me submitting the silencer as evidence,” Hilary cut him off, “along with the fact that it was found this morning in a drain almost directly behind Mr. Bukhari’s house—”
“My lady,” Jabal protested again as chatter broke out on all sides. “This is simply unacceptable—”
Fotheringham banged her gavel until quiet was restored.
“Your objection is overruled, Mr. Jabal,” Fotheringham said evenly. “You will have your chance to question the significance of this evidence in cross. Until then, you should allow the defense to finish its questions.”
“Yes, my lady,” Jabal said grimly, resuming his seat.
Beck was fighting a smile. Dom was staring at the courtroom door. Amelia was looking quietly triumphant. Next to her, Eloise sat bolt upright in her seat, her eyes on the screen, her phone forgotten in her hand. Hilary frowned at her but then the judge called for him to continue.
“Detective Inspector,” he said, “we haven’t yet had your opinion on this finding.”
“No forensic evidence was found on the silencer,” she said. “There is nothing to link it to the crime under discussion.”
“Apart from the fact that it is a fit for a nine-millimeter handgun? And found in close proximity to an associate of Miss Wood?”
“Environmental forensics suggest it was only put in the drain within the last few days,” McGarry went on, giving him a level look. “I fail to see why Mr. Bukhari would dispose of evidence so clumsily at this particular time.”
Hilary shrugged. “You said yourself that desperate people do desperate things.”
“There is currently no evidence to implicate Mr. Bukhari in this crime.”
“But you have to admit, it’s possible?”
“Mr. Bukhari was cleared. He has an alibi—”
“Provided by his family,” Hilary cut in. “Not exactly objective witnesses, even by your standards, surely?”
McGarry’s jaw tightened. “There is no proof of Mr. Bukhari’s involvement.”
“There’s no proof of my client’s, either,” Hilary said. “One hair, Detective Inspector. One hair…that’s all you have.”
“And the defendant’s link to the victim—”
“What about Mr. Bukhari’s link?”
“Objection.” Jabal stood. “My lady, Mr. Bukhari is not on trial here.”
“Sustained. Mr. Whyte, please withdraw that question.”
“I withdraw it,” Hilary said levelly. “I don’t think the jury needs an answer to appreciate there is just as much, or as little, evidence against Mr. Bukhari as there is against my client, and that the only reason Mr. Hart-Gosford is sitting in this courtroom is because of DI McGarry’s personal—”
“Objection.”
“I resent your implication, Mr. Whyte—”
“Quiet.” Fotheringham banged her gavel and both Jabal and McGarry fell silent. “Mr. Whyte, are you done?”
“No more questions, my lady.”
Hilary returned to his chair. Beck’s eyes glittered with triumph. Amelia gave a tiny nod as he resumed his seat. Eloise was again typing on her phone and didn’t look up. Dom’s gaze remained on McGarry as Jabal rose from his seat.
“Detective Inspector,” he said, “you’ve been a serving police officer for almost twenty years, you said?”
“That’s correct.”
“Have there ever been any formal disciplinary proceedings taken out against you?”
“No.”
“Have there ever been any complaints?”
“Yes,” McGarry said carefully. “Families of perpetrators often complain. They don’t like to believe their loved ones are capable of the things they’ve done.”
“Have any of these complaints been upheld? Or taken to the Independent Police Commission?”
“No.”
“Haven’t you, in fact, received several commendations for your service?”
“I have.” Her eyes slid to Hilary.
“So would you agree that you have a wealth of experience behind your professional judgment?”
“I would.”
“Good,” Jabal said, stepping out from behind his desk. “I would say so, too. This silencer the defense has pinned so much hope on,” he said, gesturing at the screen. “What is your explanation for its being found now?”
“I don’t have one,” McGarry said smoothly. “As there is nothing to prove it is linked to this case.”
“Do you at least have an opinion?”
“My opinion?”
“Yes. Your considered, expert opinion. What does your experience as a police officer tell you about this silencer turning up at this location at this time?”
“Objection,” Hilary said, standing. “Calling to speculate.”
“I understand that, my lady,” Jabal went on smoothly. “But we’ve established the witness is an experienced police officer and a commended, acclaimed investigator. I think her speculation, just like Mr. Gowan’s, is worth consideration.”
Fotheringham examined McGarry for a moment. “Overruled.”
“My lady—”
“Mr. Jabal is right,” Fotheringham went on. “DI McGarry’s opinion has weight. Detective Inspector, please answer the question.”
Hilary sat, heat flooding his face.
McGarry’s eyes swung to Dom. “I would never pursue this as a line of inquiry with so little to go on. But my personal opinion is that it has been planted there to mislead the court and muddy the waters of this trial.”
Hushed chatter went through the audience. Augustine sent Hilary a level look. Jabal smiled.
“No more questions, my lady.”
“Mr. Whyte?”
Hilary’s heart was thumping in his chest. His palms itched.
“Mr. Whyte?” Fotheringham prompted. “Any further questions?”
“No, my lady.”
Ripples of conversation filled the room as McGarry departed the witness stand. She did not look back.
“We shall have a break,” Fotheringham announced, banging the gavel. “Five minutes, counsel, to get yourselves in order. Then the defense can call its next witness.”
“It’s okay, boss,” Beck started. “We can work with this. We—”
Hilary didn’t hear the rest. He made for the door in a daze, trying not to hurry. The doors seemed heavier than lead. He stepped into the corridor, slipped behind a marble column and leaned against it, loosening his tie and taking deep breaths until the world stopped spinning. He took his glasses off and cleaned them, willing the familiar action to calm his nerves. But then he remembered his old pair breaking, Dom’s touch burning on his skin, him crying out as they came together. He remembered the faces of the jury as the Detective Inspector accused them of planting evidence and Dom’s black, hard stare as he listened and grew angry.
He shook his head and put his glasses on, willing his throat to loosen so he could breathe again.
It was then that he spotted Eloise, phone to her ear, her kitten heels clicking on the marble as she hurried from the courtroom. Her face was set, lips pinched.
“—did you think you were doing? Of all the utterly stupid…” She stopped, glaring at the wall, color flooding her pale cheeks. “I don’t care what you thought. This wasn’t… That’s not what I told you to do. We had a plan. I don’t care. Just fix it. I don’t care how…” Eloise froze, spotting Hilary. “I’ll call you back,” she said and hung up, folding her hands in front of her and sending Hilary a narrow look. “Mr. Whyte. Are you well?”
“Quite well, thank you. Everything all right with you?”
“Apart from the jury thinking Dominic has planted evidence now on top of everything else, you mean?”
“Who was on the phone, Mrs. Hart?”
Eloise shoved the phone in her bag. “And how is that remotely your business?”
“If it’s involved with Dominic’s case, it’s my business.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So it’s ‘Dominic’ now, is it?”
“Boss?” Hilary swallowed his response as Beck joined them. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, fine,” Hilary said.
“We should get back in.”
“Yes, you should,” Eloise said, tugging her handbag higher up on her arm. “It seems Dominic’s case hangs in the balance. I suggest you pull yourself together…and fast.”
“What was all that about?” Beck murmured as Eloise swept away, back to the courtroom.
“I don’t know,” Hilary said as he watched her go. “She was arguing with someone on the phone. Something about a plan.”
Beck frowned. “What plan?”
“I don’t know. But someone didn’t stick to it.”
Beck stared after the retreating figure. “Do you think it’s connected?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Boss, we gotta act fast. I don’t know if McGarry helped us or screwed us, but whatever she did, we need to undo some of it for sure.”
“I know,” Hilary said, making for the doors, his mind starting to spin again as he returned to the defense table just as the judge and jury resumed their seats. Dom was staring straight ahead whilst Amelia muttered in his ear, holding his shoulder. Hilary looked away as he sat, pretended to rifle through papers as he tried to think. Beck was whispering urgently, suggesting they bring Bukhari back.
