Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (29 page)

‘At gone midnight? That’s flimsy.’

‘I agree. She also set Kal up – via Gabriella. She had a key, and let herself in.’

‘Sounds like means, motive and opportunity.’

‘I agree. She was ostensibly the last person in the house. If she didn’t do it, Gabriella did–’

‘And vice versa. What time did Brianna return to the house?’

‘Half twelve.’

‘Wasn’t Gabriella there then?’ Kieran asked.

‘Yes, she was. Both claim not to have seen each other. Gabriella said she had a drink in the kitchen, used the bathroom then went out front for a smoke. Brianna on the other hand claims she found the house dark and the party over. She says she only came in for a few minutes and then left – without seeing anyone or finding the body.’

‘So the only way they could be telling the truth is if Brianna came in while Gabriella was in the bathroom, and left before Gabriella came outside for her cigarette – otherwise they would have seen each other. David, if that’s a coincidence then buy me a lottery ticket, because the odds are insane.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Morton asked.

‘Two options. Either one of them committed an immensely complicated murder but left no conclusive evidence by sheer dumb luck.’

‘Or?’

‘Or they’re working together. They’ve got neatly opposing stories. They’ve made you think they don’t get on, and they’ve pointed the finger at each other without being prompted to do so. It’s a classic cut-throat defence. If Gabriella says Brianna did it, and Brianna says Gabriella did it, then boom, reasonable doubt – and they both walk free. All they need to do after that is have Brianna issue a victim impact statement to minimise Gabriella’s sentence for kidnapping and then split the money later. They’re family so it wouldn’t be illegal to help each other out. It wouldn’t even be that suspicious.’

‘Kieran, you’ve got a cynical mind. I just don’t buy it.’

‘Then what would you have me do? Pick one at random and hope for the best? You’ve got a virtually identical case against both.’

‘Gabriella has proven bad character. She held a woman hostage!’

‘And Brianna would have done the same in a heartbeat. She left a nick in your leg. And you think she’s been dealing.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Charge them together as co-conspirators.’

‘I don’t think they both did it,’ Morton said. ‘Can’t we charge them individually and let the jury decide?’

‘I can’t. If I charge both separately, they can point to the mere existence of two prosecutions as reasonable doubt. Neither case would make it as far as a jury. I have to make the case for them working together to murder Ellis.’

‘I don’t like it. If only one of them did it then you risk sending an innocent to prison.’

‘Nobody in prison is innocent. Not legally. You’re guilty if and when a jury says you are. It’s up to a jury to decide the facts and base their decision on those facts.’

‘This is wrong.’

‘Is it? You said yourself you can only provide the facts as you find them. The facts support a prosecution of both of them as co-defendants. Then it’s up to twelve members of the public to decide. They can find them both not guilty if they don’t think my case is good enough, and they might well do. But we can’t do nothing, and charging them individually isn’t an option.’

‘I’m not going to allow this.’

‘Allow it? I’m the prosecutor. This is my case, Morton. You’re overstepping your authority. I’m charging both of them with the murder of Ellis DeLange. Trust the jury. They’ll make the right decision.’

Chapter 59: Richmond Magistrates’ Court

It took a few weeks for the DeLange murder to wind up on the docket at Richmond-upon-Thames Magistrates’ Court for the first stage of the trial, which was simply to transfer the case over to the Crown Court. It struck Kieran as a bit of an oddity but it was a formality which had to be adhered to, and so he had made an early trip up to Richmond.

The building itself was an unusual one. It was constructed out of whitewashed concrete and Plexiglas, and looked more like an art centre than a working criminal court. It sat at an odd juxtaposition to tree-lined streets filled with expensive apartments with balconies from which the residents could watch criminals being dragged into court.

And this morning there was quite a spectacle.

Camera crews were lined up outside the front entrance, clogging up the entire street, in the hope of hitting pay dirt when the defendants were hauled into court.

They were much too late. The defendants had been moved to the holding cells underneath the court the night before, so the only shots they were going to get were of the lawyers walking into court.

The morning’s real winner was Oscar Bruehl, a civil parking enforcement officer for Richmond Borough Council. He was having a field day working his way along the street, dishing out enforcement notice after enforcement notice to waywardly parked cars. By the time he’d shuffled idly by the news crews, most of the street had been carpet-bombed with black-and-yellow parking tickets, and Oscar had fulfilled his quota for the month – not that he officially had one, of course.

***

Kieran always enjoyed the peace and quiet of the robing room before a court appearance. There was a certain ceremony to going into court, though today would not be a day to wear his wig and gown, as the plea before venue was a mere formality.

Kieran didn’t mind. He was on the payroll. It didn’t matter to him how often he had to appear in court. At the end of the day, he’d collect his salary and go home – unlike the defence counsel, who often had to work for legal aid rates, or wait on payment for months at a time.

He was happy with his lot in life. Being a prosecutor seemed to him the very best of both worlds. He got a salary and a pension, and there were none of the pesky ethical dilemmas of working defence. Every person that Kieran had put behind bars thoroughly deserved it. Morton might not have agreed with the decision, but it was his to make. He would put the case to the jury, and let them decide.

He looked in the mirror, straightened his immaculately pressed tie and Inns of Court cufflinks, and walked out into the hallway – and straight into opposing counsel.

‘Miss Hollis.’ He nodded.

‘Mr O’Connor. Do you have a moment?’

An ambush
. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’d like you to consider dropping the case.’

‘You know I can’t do that. The evidence merits a trial, and I have no intention of dropping anything. You make your case, and I’ll make mine,’ Kieran said and then began to walk away down the corridor.

‘Then you should know that neither I nor Mr Morgan-Bryant intend to attempt severance.’

Kieran stopped dead in his tracks. He’d been expecting defence counsel to argue that being tried in the same courtroom was prejudicial. He’d have pretended to argue, but ultimately subtly lost that argument so that he could present two cases to two juries.

‘You’re not going for separate trials?’

‘No. As we see it, no jury can convict both. The evidence of collusion is almost as flimsy as the circumstantial evidence you’re trying to use.’

‘There’s an entire mountain of circumstantial evidence.’

‘No jury is going to convict two women for the same murder. Your evidence is the same against both. That’s more than enough for reasonable doubt.’

‘I disagree but thank you for sharing your thoughts. I’ll see you downstairs, Miss Hollis.’

‘Mr O’Connor? One more thing. Watch your back. That Morgan-Bryant is out to get you.’

‘I know.’

***

Court One had never been so full. Every seat in the public gallery was full, and a number of journalists waited in the hallway. Morton had to resort to flashing his ID to secure a seat.

The court rose as the district judge walked in, and then sank back into their seats as His Honour Judge Richards sat upon the bench.

‘My, my, we do have a busy courtroom today. I’ll warn you all at the outset to keep quiet during proceedings, and please don’t forget to turn off any mobile phone you may be carrying. If I so much as hear a phone vibrate, I will hold those responsible in contempt.’

An usher stood, and read out the charges. Brianna and Gabriella stood in the dock with only a Perspex divider between them.

‘Who do we have in court today?’ Richards asked.

‘Miss Hollis; I represent Gabriella Curzon. Mr Elliot Morgan-Bryant represents Brianna Jackson, and my learned friend Mr Kieran O’Connor appears for the Crown.’

‘Then down to business. Do the defendants accept that there is a prima facie case to answer here?’

‘We do, Your Honour,’ Genevieve Hollis said. Morgan-Bryant stood for a moment to echo her.

‘Bail?’

Kieran stood. ‘We request remand, Your Honour. Both defendants are a flight risk. Miss Curzon is awaiting sentencing on another matter, and there are additional charges pending against Miss Jackson. We consider that neither defendant has substantial ties to the community and therefore represent a flight risk given that both of them have easy access to capital.’

‘Mr Morgan-Bryant, Miss Hollis. What say you?’

Miss Hollis stood. ‘My client is already on remand for the charge that the prosecution is alluding to. She has proven her willingness to appear when required by attending today. She has already surrendered her passport to the courts to secure bail on that charge pending sentencing. She has a home in London and is currently studying for her final exams, which are due to take place shortly. We would ask that you extend the same courtesy so that she can continue studying, which will minimise the disruption when my client is eventually proven innocent.’

‘Proven innocent? You’re very confident, Miss Hollis. Mr Morgan-Bryant?’

‘I would ask for bail. My client has a home, a job, and is set to inherit a large estate. She has no reason to abscond.’

‘Your Honour, the Crown would respectfully disagree. If Miss Jackson is found guilty, then she will not inherit and thus has every reason to flee.’

Richards nodded, looked down at his scribbled notes and then said: ‘Brianna Jackson, you are remanded pending trial. Miss Curzon, I will release you on the usual bail conditions. You may not leave the jurisdiction. You may not contact any witnesses.’

Hollis rose. ‘Thank you, Your Honour.’

‘Are there any other pre-trial matters which I need to attend to?’ Richards asked, and looked around the courtroom.

‘None, Your Honour,’ Kieran said. ‘Both defendants have received advanced disclosure of the case against them, and the Crown stands ready for trial.’

‘Then pursuant to section six subsection two of the Magistrates’ Court Act 1980, I have no choice but to commit this case forthwith for trial in the Crown Court. All parties will be informed of the court date by post.’

Morton watched on. It was all routine stuff for Kieran, but it still fascinated Morton. In a mere three minutes, bail had been dealt with and the defendants sent off to be tried for murder.

Chapter 60: Three Sundays

The prosecution lawyer had been as good as his word, and once the agreement to testify was signed, Paddy was out of HMP Pentonville once more. Life was good.

He yawned, stretched languorously and looked around the hotel room.
This is so much better than prison.
Gabby had picked well. It was upmarket but discreet, with a large bed, soft pillows and all the anonymity of a big chain.

Nice view too.
Paddy looked across the room towards Gabby. She was dressed in only a bathrobe, and sat next to the telephone. She twirled the cord of the phone around her fingers as she spoke: ‘Three Sundays? I understand. And you can’t do it any sooner?’

Paddy snatched up the complimentary pen and paper by the nightstand. He wrote down a message and then held it up for her to read. ‘
When?
’

Gabriella waved him off, and continued to talk into the receiver. ‘We can’t. We’ll only be able to make it up for the one day. Four weeks from tomorrow? The Tuesday morning? That’s fine with us. No, no, no. We won’t need any of that. Thank you. We’ll see you then.’

Paddy smiled. ‘Is it done?’

‘It is. Now get out. Take the fire escape, and go. I can’t have anyone know we were here. You know I’m not supposed to talk to you.’

Reluctantly, Paddy rose, pulled on his clothes then kissed her goodbye.

Chapter 61: The Old Bailey

It took the better part of thirteen weeks to make it as far as the Old Bailey. It was properly called the Central Criminal Court, but nobody ever used that name.

To Morton, it seemed a fitting place for the sorry saga of Ellis DeLange to end. It was a bright sunny day when Morton decided to sit in. Lady Justice, gilded in bronze, was on fire atop the roof. Something about the Old Bailey felt weighty, important and yet full of hope that justice would be served. Perhaps it was the inscriptions dotted around the Grand Hall.
Poise the cause in justice’s equal scales
was Morton’s favourite.

Yet in this case, justice really did hang in the balance. Morton didn’t buy Kieran’s theory that the two half-sisters had colluded. The animosity between them seemed far too ingrained to be an act. If Morton were right, and he usually was, then justice would be hard pressed to deal with two defendants, one guilty and one innocent, each accused on the same set of facts.

Attending court at the Old Bailey wasn’t like going to just any old Crown Court. There were superficial differences, like dealing with the inevitable queues and heightened security amidst the tourists, but there were substantive differences too.

The Aldermen of the City were entitled to attend court, though Morton had never seen one as far as he knew. More strangely still, the judges sat off centre. He had asked Kieran why this was, and had been told that it was so that, if he so chose, the Lord Mayor could sit in judgement in the centre chair.

Morton wasn’t sure if Kieran was having him on or not, but chose to believe the story. He never could tell when the lawyer was telling the truth, and it appeared that the jury couldn’t either. They were watching Kieran, transfixed, as he turned to give his opening statement.