Silks (32 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty nervous, too.’

I sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off my shoes and lay down, putting my feet up on the bedcovers. I tapped the hard plastic shell beneath my shirt.

‘This damn thing doesn’t help either,’ I said.

‘Let me look after you,’ she said, coming over and lying down beside me.

And she did.

All my apprehension drifted away to nothing and all my fears were unfounded. Maybe it really was like riding a bicycle, I thought. Once you had learned the knack you never forgot it.

Eleanor helped ease my itchy body out of the plastic straightjacket and also out of my clothes. I lay naked on the bed as she washed and cooled me using damp towels from the bathroom, and then she herself stripped off and climbed in beside me, between the sheets.

Making love with a broken back is, by necessity, a gentle and tender process. But we discovered it could also be a sensual and passionate one.

Afterwards, we lay entwined together for a while, drifting in and out of light sleep. I would have been so happy to stay like that all night but I needed to do some reading, ready for the morning.

I rolled over gently to look at the digital clock on the bedside cabinet. Seven forty-five. I tried to ease myself up, although it
was against my back surgeon’s rules. Eleanor stirred as I tried to remove my arm from beneath her waist.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling up at me. ‘Going somewhere already?’

‘Yup,’ I said, smiling back. ‘Got to get back to my wife.’

She suddenly looked alarmed, but relaxed when she saw I was joking.

‘You kidder,’ she said, snuggling into my chest.

‘But I really do need to get back to my work,’ I said. ‘I have to be prepared for tomorrow. And, what’s more, I’m hungry.’

‘I’m hungry for you,’ Eleanor said back to me, seductively fluttering her eyelashes.

‘Later, dear. Later,’ I said. ‘Man cannot live by sex alone.’

‘But we could try,’ she said. Then she sighed and rolled off my arm, releasing me.

She helped me back into my plastic corset and then into a towelling robe.

‘Let’s have some room service,’ I said. ‘Then I can work and eat.’

Eleanor called down for the food while I set about looking through the papers that I would need in the event that the judge did not rule in our favour over the defence submission. To be honest, I didn’t really expect him to. Even though much of it was circumstantial, there was probably enough evidence to convict, and certainly enough to leave the question to the jury.

If it was in the balance, the judge might simply allow the trial to continue because the decision was then taken out of his hands and passed to the jury. And Steve Mitchell’s conduct during the afternoon had almost certainly not endeared him to the judge – not that that should be a consideration, but it probably would be.

Since the Criminal Justice Act 2003 had come into force, the prosecution had the right to appeal rulings by judges over whether there was a case to answer, and, in my experience, judges had since become less inclined to so rule for fear of having their decision overturned on appeal.

All in all, I wasn’t too hopeful, and so I still had to do my homework.

However, over our room-service dinner, eaten in our bathrobes, I told Eleanor about the news I had heard from Nikki at lunchtime.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ she asked.

I explained to her about the defence submission I had made to the court at the end of the prosecution case.

‘If the judge doesn’t rule in our favour in the morning,’ I said, ‘and I don’t think he will, I intend calling a couple of witnesses to explore what Nikki found out.’

‘Can you call anyone you like as a witness?’ she asked.

‘Yes and no,’ I said.

‘Explain,’ she said.

‘I can call whoever I like as long as their evidence is relevant to the case,’ I said. ‘But if I’m going to call the defendant as a witness, I have to call him first. I couldn’t call someone else first and then go back to Steve. But I don’t think I’ll be calling him anyway in this case. He’s a bit too volatile. And our defence is that he’s being framed, so all he could say is that he didn’t do it, and he knew nothing about it, and I can say that to the jury anyway.’

I paused to take a mouthful of my dinner.

‘I did think about calling character witnesses but I’m not sure that would be a good idea. Steve’s character is hardly as pure as the driven snow.’

‘You can say that again,’ she said. And she should know.

‘I asked my solicitor, Bruce Lygon, to contact both my new witnesses this afternoon,’ I said. ‘I am still waiting to hear what he says but I fully expect that at least one of them won’t want to come to court.’

‘But what happens then?’ Eleanor asked.

‘In the end, they don’t get any choice in the matter,’ I said. ‘I can apply to the court for a witness summons which is then served on the potential witnesses and then they have to be there. If they don’t turn up, the judge can issue a warrant for their arrest.’

‘But surely that doesn’t mean they also have to answer your questions.’

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But if they don’t, they have to give a reason not to answer, and the only reason here would be that in doing so they might incriminate themselves. And that should, at least, do some good as it ought to put some doubt into the minds of the jury as to Steve’s guilt.’ I took another mouthful. ‘But what I really need is time. Time to get the witnesses I need to court, but mostly time for more investigating.’

‘And what will you do if the judge doesn’t give you time?’ she asked.

‘Probably lose the case,’ I said.

At least Julian Trent would then be pleased.

As I had expected, on the Thursday morning at two minutes past ten, and prior to the arrival of the jury in the courtroom, the trial judge rejected the defence submission that there was no case to answer.

‘If it then please My Lord,’ I said, standing up. ‘The defence would like to submit a list of witnesses we wish to be summonsed.’

‘And how many witnesses are there on this list, Mr Mason?’ the judge asked rather sternly.

‘Initially I have two names, My Lord,’ I said, picking up a sheet of paper. ‘But there may be more, depending on the evidence of these witnesses.’

I passed the paper to the court usher who delivered it to the judge. He looked down at its brief contents.

‘Why have these names not been previously submitted to the court, so that summonses might have been issued to them in good time?’ he asked me.

‘My Lord,’ I said. ‘Information came to our knowledge only yesterday which indicates that these witnesses are essential to our case.’

‘And how is that?’ he asked.

‘Our case, My Lord,’ I said, ‘as detailed in the Defence Case Statement, previously submitted to the court, is that the defendant is innocent of the charges and that he is being framed for a crime he did not commit. In the light of fresh information, the defence now wishes to further this argument by calling these witnesses.

‘My Lord,’ I continued. ‘Mr Mitchell’s solicitor made an attempt to contact these potential witnesses during yesterday afternoon and evening. One of them indicated verbally to the solicitor that they had no wish, or intention, of attending court to assist the defence in this matter. Consequently, I would like to apply to the court for a witness summons.’

‘How about the other?’ asked the judge.

‘As yet we have been unable to contact the second one, My Lord,’Isaid.‘But I have every reason to expect the same outcome.’

‘Mr Mason,’ said the judge. ‘Have you shown your list to the prosecution?’

‘I have, My Lord,’ I said. ‘I gave a copy to my learned friend just prior to the court sitting this morning.’

The judge invited the prosecution to respond to the request.

‘My Lord,’ said the smarmy prosecution QC. ‘The prosecution has no objection to the summonsing of these witnesses if it is likely to aid justice. However, the defence has had ample time to prepare for this case and further procrastination should not be tolerated.’

Or in other words, I thought, we don’t object but, oh yes, we do after all. Anything to sound reasonable, while not actually being so.

The judge, God bless him, chose to hear only the first part of the QC’s statement.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘As the prosecution have no objection, I will allow a witness summons to be issued for each name. But be warned, Mr Mason, I will take a firm line if I consider that the defence is in any way wasting the court’s time. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Absolutely, My Lord,’ I said.

‘Will these witnesses be ready to be examined by this afternoon?’ asked the judge.

‘My lord,’ said the prosecution QC rising rapidly to his feet. ‘The prosecution requests more time to consider the names of these witnesses and to prepare for cross-examination.’

It was exactly as I had hoped, because I was not in any position to call my witnesses. Not yet, anyway.

‘Would you be ready by tomorrow?’ asked the judge.

‘We would prefer Monday, My Lord,’ said the smarmy QC.

‘Any objection, Mr Mason?’ asked the judge.

‘No, My Lord,’ I said, trying hard to keep a grin off my face. ‘No objection.’

‘Very well,’ said the judge. He was probably already looking forward to an extra day on the golf course. ‘Court is adjourned until ten o’clock on Monday morning.’

Excellent, I thought. Just what I had wanted, and just what I needed.

I ordered a taxi to take all my papers back to the hotel. I had previously been to the court office to get the witness summonses issued for Monday, and Bruce Lygon had departed eagerly to try and personally deliver them into the correct hands.

As I waited inside the court building lobby, I called Nikki.

‘I now have the documentation,’ she said excitedly. ‘It all came through this morning.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘Now I have something else for you to do.’

‘Fire away,’ she said.

‘I need you to go to Newbury to ask some more questions,’ I said.

‘No problem,’ she replied.

I explained to her exactly what information I wanted her to find out, and where to get it.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Call you later.’

She hung up as my taxi arrived.

The taxi took me to the hotel and then waited as the porter carried all the boxes up to my room and I packed a few clothes into one of my new suitcases. Then the taxi took me and my suitcase to Oxford station, where we caught a fast train to London.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Arthur as I walked into chambers soon after noon.

‘The case has been adjourned until Monday,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Sir James will be ready to take over from me by then.’

‘Er,’ said Arthur, floundering. ‘I believe that his case is still running on.’

‘Arthur,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I pay you to lie
for
me, not
to
me.’

‘Sir James pays me more than you do,’ he said with a smile.

‘Just so long as we know where we stand,’ I said.

I had no intention of telling Sir James Horley anything about my new witnesses. The last thing I wanted was for him to now
feel that the case wasn’t such a lost cause after all, and for him to step back in and hog all the limelight. No way was I going to let that happen.

I went through to my room and set about looking a few things up in my case files and then I telephoned Bob, the driver from the car comapny. I urgently needed some transportation.

‘I’ll be there in about half an hour,’ he said.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I have some more calls to make anyway.’

One of them was to my father on the new mobile phone I had bought him.

‘Having a nice time?’ I asked him.

‘I suppose so,’ he said, rather reluctantly. ‘But everyone else here is so old.’ Just like him, I thought, rather unkindly.

I had sent him to the seaside, to stay in the Victoria Hotel in Sidmouth, Devon, where he could walk along the beach each day and get plenty of healthy fresh air, and where, I hoped, Julian Trent wouldn’t think of looking for him.

Next I called Weatherbys, the company that administered British horse racing, the company that had paid Scot Barlow his riding fees as detailed on his bank statements. I needed some different information from them this time and they were most helpful in giving me the answers.

I also called Eleanor and left a message on her mobile phone.

She had left the Oxford hotel early in the morning to get back to work in Lambourn, but not so early that we hadn’t had time for a repeat of the previous evening’s lovemaking.

She called me back on my mobile as Bob drove me away from chambers.

‘I got my time from the judge,’ I said to her. ‘And the witness summonses, too.’

‘Well done you,’ she replied.

‘I’m in London,’ I said. ‘The judge adjourned until Monday morning. I’ve already been to my chambers, and I’m now on my way to Barnes to face the mess. And I’ll probably stay there tonight.’

‘I won’t plan to go to Oxford, then,’ she said, laughing.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I won’t be back there until Sunday night.’

‘Sunday night!’ she said. ‘Don’t I get to see you before then?’

‘You could always come to London,’ I said.

‘I’m on call again,’ she said.

‘Isn’t anyone else ever on call?’ I asked.

‘It’s only for tonight,’ she said. ‘I could come tomorrow.’

‘I have plans for during the day tomorrow,’ I said. ‘And then I thought I’d come down to you for the night, if that’s OK.’

‘Great by me,’ she said.

The state of my home was worse than I had remembered. The stuff from the fridge that Trent had poured all over the kitchen had started to smell badly. It had been a warm May week with plenty of sunshine having streamed through the large windows into the airless space. The whole place reeked of rotting food.

I was sorry for my downstairs neighbours for having to live beneath it all for the past week, and I hoped for their sake that smells rose upwards like hot air.

I opened all the windows and let some fresh air in, which was a major improvement. Next I found an industrial cleaning company in the Yellow Pages and promised them a huge bonus if they would come round instantly to do an emergency clear-up job. No problem, they said, for a price, a very high price.