A Time For Justice

Chapter Eighteen

Agent Eamon Ritter had made a conscious, considered decision.

He was going to kill Sue Mather.

His life had become intolerable since she had seen him down at Bayside. He kept bumping into her, or so it seemed to him, both in the FBI building and out of it. Every time he turned a corner or came out of a door, she was there. Fat and unmistakable.

Too many times for it to be a coincidence.

She was definitely following him, of that he was in no doubt. And she knew, or at least suspected, he was on the take.

Yet why hadn’t she done anything about it? Over six months had passed since Bayside. Perhaps she was tormenting him, toying with him. Then when she was good and ready, she would either bubble him or go for a piece of the action.

He’d actually considered approaching her and offering money, but he soon put that out of his mind. Just supposing she was straight? He would have played right into her hands.

No, he decided to stick at the viewpoint that she was upright and honest and what she was doing was building up a file of evidence against him before moving in for the kill. Bitch.

He sat at his desk in his office, rocking back and forth, pursing his lips as he considered his position.

There was no way he was going to give up Corelli’s money. He was tied to it.

Firstly he had his lifestyle to maintain. It was discreet and subtly expensive, causing no one to raise an eyebrow. His modest house was well-furnished and he and his wife had decent, but second-hand cars. It was the finishing touches which told the story — the expensive CD players in the cars, the original paintings on the walls of his house, the conservatory which could not be seen from the road, the top-of-the-range golf clubs, his designer clothes, which looked not a great deal different from off the peg — but oh, feel that quality. And the small apartment and boat on Grand Cayman which nobody in the office knew about. All these things needed money, more money than he could ever earn.

And secondly, if he pulled the plug and said, ‘No more,’ Corelli would drop him without a moment’s hesitation to the FBI.

He had to go on.

The pencil he was holding snapped as he imagined his hands breaking Sue’s neck.

The bitch had to die.

Even when a case comes to court, the wheels of British justice turn painfully slowly. On the first day of Jimmy Hinksman’s trial, for no apparent reason, proceedings did not begin until 2.15 p.m.

That did not seem to bother the assembled press or public in the Shire Hall, restricted in their numbers to thirty and twelve respectively. There was a buzz of excitement, an air of anticipation, and a few hours’ wait would not put a damper on that.

However, it did serve to wind Henry Christie up. He knew he would not be called to give evidence until the later stages of the proceedings, but he wanted it to be underway. All this waiting around, killing time, was stress-inducing as far as he was concerned.

After lunch the High Court Judge, Mrs Ellison, took her place on the Bench. She looked quite regally stunning and imposing, despite her sixty-eight years and slight frame. Her wig, red robes and stern expression told their own story. Here was a woman not to be trifled with. This was her court and she ruled it without compromise. Unless it suited her.

The row of QCs, prosecution and defence, bowed to acknowledge her, all dressed in a similar fashion.

It was tradition taken to extreme.

Mrs Ellison indicated that the prisoner should be brought up.

A hush fell across the court. A couple of artists prepared their sketch-pads and pencils.

Henry braced himself. This was the first time he’d seen Hinksman since the committal hearing at Blackpool Magistrates Court.

He held his breath.

Two prison officers led Hinksman up from the holding cell below the court.

He gazed stonily into space, allowed himself to be manhandled and sat down in the dock, flanked by the officers. His handcuffs had already been removed.

Then his eyes began to rove around the court. From Judge to QCs to their briefs, to the security precautions… and finally, to Henry. Their eyes met, their gazes interlocked.

Henry felt his flesh creep.

Hinksman sat back and, unexpectedly, his face broke into the most pleasant smile imaginable… which quickly changed into a sneer of contempt. He kept Henry’s gaze, raised his eyebrows and mouthed the words, ‘YOU ARE DEAD.’

There followed four days of legal submissions by the defence which were countered by the prosecution and vice versa, rather like the opening of a fencing match where the competitors were sussing out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It was all very eloquent and polite and at the same time dull. This legal parrying bored the spectators. They weren’t interested in nitpicking points of law and procedure. A good multiple murder case was what they all wanted to hear.

It was Friday before the jury was sworn in.

Even that did not prove to be simple. Hinksman’s QC objected to eight of the original twelve for obscure but legally valid reasons, and they all had to be replaced by substitutes from the pool of jurors.

In the end there were seven men and five women. Two of the men were black. One of the women was Chinese.

At 4 p.m. everything was set to proceed.

So the Judge adjourned for the weekend.

Hinksman was led out of court after the Judge had left. He indicated to his QC that he wanted to speak to him.

A few minutes later the QC, whose name was Graham, came down to the holding cage for a hushed consultation with his client.

‘ I want you to arrange several things,’ Hinksman told him.

‘ Such as?’

‘ I want you to find out the name and address of each of the jurors. I want the address of the Judge and the addresses of all the independent witnesses, including the cops.’

The QC pushed his pince-nez to the top of his nose, a feeling of discomfort flooding through him.

‘ That is not something I can do. These are details which are not disclosed by the prosecution.’

‘ Well, you’d better do it.’

‘ Why?’ asked Graham, dreading the answer.

‘ So they can be intimidated,’ said Hinksman simply, with a smile. ‘I… I don’t think I can do that.’

‘ Yes, you can. You’ve done it before, I know you have. If you do, you’ll get a bonus. Two hundred grand — in five-pound notes — paid anywhere in the world. And if you get me off these charges, you’ll receive a million dollars, tax free again, anywhere in the world.’

Graham shrugged. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll get them to you as soon as I’ve obtained them.’

Henry walked out of court a drained man. Even though the trial had not yet started, he’d been obliged to spend the entire week outside the Shire Hall and would not be allowed to enter again until called in to give his evidence, which could be weeks away.

The wait was always a nerve-racking time. Then, when the trial actually began, you wondered what the witnesses before had said and if you were going to make a fool of them or yourself by contradicting them or not ‘sticking to the script’.

His week, therefore, was spent pacing the corridors of the ancient building or putting his feet up in the police room and chatting to the other police witnesses, overdosing on tea or coffee; or simply wandering around Lancaster. He took some heart from seeing that some witnesses were in a worse state than himself — particularly the civilian ones.

He was glad to get out of it for the weekend, and looking forward to spending it with his daughters who were over the moon about him living above a vet’s.

An exhausted Karen Wilde arrived home that evening to the sound of her phone ringing. She could clearly hear it as she walked up the garden path, but she did not hurry. It couldn’t be work calling, otherwise they would have ‘bleeped’ her. So it must either be family or a friend, neither of whom she felt like talking to at that moment. It had been a long week — a minimum of ten hours per day — and she was whacked.

Her plan was bath, supper, bed, sleep.

In fact she even slowed her pace to the door and put her key into the lock in slow motion, hoping desperately that whoever it was would give up.

The ringing continued.

‘ Damn,’ she said, entering the house. She picked up the phone and gave a curt, ‘Yes?’ She recognised the voice on the other end immediately and her stomach did a yo-yo.

‘ Hi Karen, how are you doing?’

‘ Karl,’ she stuttered.

‘ So, how are you?’

‘ Fine, fine,’ she said, hurriedly pulling herself together. ‘Where are you phoning from? You sound a million miles away.’

‘ Manchester Airport. I’ve just touched down from Miami, hell of a flight, and I’m about to get a cab to a hotel nearby. I’m over here for Hinksman’s trial- thought I’d see how you were feeling.’

‘ Fine, yes. I expected to see you sooner.’

‘ Your prosecution department told me not to come until the second week.’

‘ It’s not even started properly yet,’ said Karen. Her mind was racing. She made an instant decision, one she knew she might regret. ‘Look, Karl,’ she commenced hesitantly, ‘I know you’re tired, but can you stay awake long enough for me to come and pick you up? We could have a meal together perhaps, maybe talk, you know?’

‘ Yeah, well, sure,’ he said, taken aback.

‘ I’ll be about an hour and a half, OK? I’ve only arrived home this minute myself.’

‘ Yeah but-’

‘ Don’t ask, Karl. Just wait for me. I’ll be at the International Arrivals meeting point in ninety minutes — OK?’

‘ Why surely, ma’ am.’

‘ And do you know something, Karl? I’ve been dying to hear you call me ma’am for ages.’

She hung up and raced to her bedroom to get changed.

At the other end of the phone Karl hung up slowly, the bewilderment on his face fading slowly to a broad grin. It was all he could do to stop himself leaping into the air and shouting, ‘Yee-hah!’

‘ So how’s the crusade against Mr Corelli going?’ Karen asked in the stilted manner which had been a feature of their conversation so far.

They were sitting at a table in the dining room of Donaldson’s hotel and had reached the coffee stage without either of them having eaten or drunk very much at all.

Donaldson sighed. ‘Not well. He’s a very devious son of a bitch. He knows all the tricks in the book — the best one being to kill off any potential witnesses against him. Works like a dream. We’re fairly sure he’s dealing with Lenny Dakin over here and that it’s a good profitable business. But the where, when and how of it constantly eludes us.’ He shrugged.

‘ How’s your partner’s partner? I heard about the letter bomb.’

Donaldson looked into his coffee. ‘To be honest, Chrissy’s face is all messed up — one half of it, anyway. And the upper part of her body

… It’s heartbreaking, especially for Joe. He loves her.’

‘ No nearer catching the offender?’

Donaldson shook his head. ‘Naw, but we’re sure it’s down to Corelli — a warning to us, you know? Joe’s been working his tail off ever since, but he’s getting nowhere. It’s very sad. Every waking moment is spent either dedicated to bringing Corelli down or getting Chrissy back together. He’s a very driven man at the moment. His whole personality has changed. It’s like working with a demon. He’ll crack if he doesn’t ease up, have a breakdown.’

‘ Oh, talking of which, Henry Christie’s been at court all week. I’ve seen him a couple of times, but we don’t talk. I treated him quite badly.’

‘ He’s not one to bear grudges. I’m looking forward to meeting up with him again.’ Donaldson paused, then asked, ‘Why did you say, “Talking about which”?’

She explained Henry’s difficult last six months, most of which she’d heard second- or third-hand.

‘ Yeah?’ said Donaldson, head tilting back as he considered the story. ‘I can see that. He was under strain. He was on the edge.’

‘ Weren’t we all?’ commented Karen.

‘ Yes, we were.’

They eyed each other for a second, then Karen dropped her gaze and stared at her fingers.

‘ I tried to see you before I went back to America,’ he said.

She nodded numbly and swallowed.

‘ I also telephoned you dozens of times from the States, left messages on your machine. You never returned them. Nor did you reply to my letters.’ He was accusing her, but gently, without pressure.

She sat there blinking rapidly.

‘ Did you hear what I said when you ran into the elevator that night?

‘ I shouted it loud enough.’

‘ I heard,’ she admitted, ‘and whether you want to believe it or not, that’s what kept me going. That thought. Those words.’

‘ So why did you run away from me?’

‘ The girl in the room.’ Karen took a deep breath, found it difficult to go on.

‘ Look, I just needed someone and she was available. I know it sounds cruel, but she fulfilled a need there and then. A one-night stand, if you like. I was beginning to react badly to Ken’s death. I needed some sort of release, someone to cling to, I suppose. She meant nothing to me. I meant nothing to her.’

‘ I’m sorry,’ said Karen softly. ‘That night’s gone now. I can’t change it, nor can you. I was very upset and confused and finding you with her made it worse. You see, I needed someone to cling to as well.’

‘ And I wasn’t there for you,’ said Donaldson, regret in his voice.

‘ But what you said gave me strength. I knew I’d be seeing you again, maybe to straighten things out between us. Anyway, maybe I’m being presumptuous. Maybe there’s someone else in your life by now. If that’s the case, I could handle it.’

‘ There’s no one else. There’s been nothing for six months… except the thought of you.’

‘ So do those words still apply?’ Karen looked at him. Her eyes were shimmering and lovely. His breath was taken away by her beauty which seemed to overpower him.

‘ Y-yes, they do,’ he said, stumbling over his words.

‘ Then say them again. I need to hear them — but this time say them loud enough for only me to hear, not a whole hotel.’

‘ I love you.’

‘ Now say it louder.’

‘ I love you. ‘

‘ Louder!’

‘ I LOVE YOU, MA’ AM!’

Everyone in the dining room stopped what they were doing and stared at this crazy couple who’d burst out into a fit of giggles. When their laughter was under control and everyone had returned to their own business, Karen said simply, ‘I love you too, Karl.’

Dave August, dressed in civvies rather than uniform, strolled down from his office at Force Headquarters into the large garage at the rear of the building. His official car was waiting for him — a Jaguar. He dismissed the driver and slid in behind the wheel. This was not unusual for August who had made it one of his quirks that he liked to do his own driving whenever possible. And anyway, as his intended use of the car that day was completely unofficial he didn’t want any witnesses; a previous Chief had lost his job for misusing police transport, amongst other things.

He clicked it into Drive and purred elegantly out of the garage doors, a broad smile on his face.

His last six months in the office of Chief Constable had been very smooth indeed, far smoother than he could have anticipated, particularly after that drunken night with Karen.

But nothing untoward had come of it.

Initially he had panicked, thinking that if she’d decided to make an allegation of any sort, he would be finished. If nothing else it would have exposed their affair and he would have had to resign. He braced himself for a few days but nothing happened. He quickly swept her discipline problems under the table and transferred her to the north of the county, out of the way. That combination of factors had obviously been enough to pacify her. After all, he’d mused, she might have thought she’d been raped. You never could tell with women. They were so touchy. So unpredictable. He’d been sleeping with her for months, after all. It was just a drunken fuck, one that got out of hand. So he’d slapped her a bit too. Well-entitled, he’d reassured himself.

If she’d chosen to squeal about it, he could have been in trouble enough. But there was nothing. Not a word. Just a longish period off sick for her. Now he was sure the whole thing was dead and buried. She was back at work in Lancaster and doing pretty well, by all accounts. Good luck to her. He held no malice against her. And the time had long gone for her to make any complaints.

So he was safe. He was flying high again.

The Jaguar rolled into Preston town centre and pulled outside the Crest Hotel. Dave August leapt out of the car and trotted into the foyer.

She was there, waiting for him. As soon as she saw him, she stood up. ‘David,’ she said, crossing over to him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and smiled prettily.

‘ Janine, you look lovely,’ he enthused.

‘ Thank you,’ she said shyly, colouring up.

‘ Shall we go?’ He had bought expensive ringside seats for a boxing match in Manchester as his new girlfriend was a fan of the sport. She said it made her feel excited…

He beamed and crooked his left arm. She slid hers through it and they walked out of the hotel, side by side.

‘ A Jag! This is exciting.’

August gallantly opened the passenger door for her.

‘ You are a real gentleman,’ she said. ‘I need to kiss you.’

She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely on the lips, holding him slightly longer than necessary. Then she slinked into the car, her skirt riding up, leaving the Chief Constable in no doubt that she was wearing no underwear.

Karen and Donaldson rode in silence up to his floor, holding hands nervously, hardly daring to catch each other’s eye. He fumbled for his room key in his pocket as they walked slowly down the corridor.

He put the key in the lock.

Before turning it, he stopped and said, ‘You don’t have to do this, Karen. I don’t want to rush you. I can wait for as long as it takes.’

For an answer, her arms slid around his neck. Their mouths touched. Hesitantly at first. Then her hips moved against his groin seductively. He felt himself grow to bursting. She felt hot and pulsating inside.

Then she pulled away, gasping slightly. He unlocked the door.

After the boxing, August and Janine were invited to what was described as a ‘little get-together’ at a private house in Wilmslow. It was a big house, one of those neo-Georgian affairs with a well-laid driveway with an entrance and an exit. Out in front of the house was a row of classy cars; the Jaguar slotted in perfectly with them.

August and Janine then walked arm in arm up to the front door, which was open. The sound of disco music wafted to their ears from the back of the house.

‘ Is this where I meet all those police-loving businessmen you promised?’

‘ I’ll do my best,’ she said. ‘It’s a pretty big charity do. Anyone who’s anyone’ll be here and they’ll have paid handsomely. There’ll be councillors, sportsmen, businessmen… all in a good cause.’

‘ And why haven’t I paid to attend?’

‘ Because I know the organiser,’ she said mysteriously.

As they entered the house a photographer snapped away.

Inside it was a mass of people, shoulder to shoulder. The music was loud, but it was a good beat. There were clouds of cigarette smoke and the unmistakable tang of cannabis.

August’s eyes went from face to face. Many of them had been at the boxing. He half recognised a couple of footballers and an MP whose name he couldn’t recall.

Janine led him out through the throng to a large patio at the rear, which doubled as a dance floor. Beyond the patio was a large swimming pool; beyond that was a marquee which seemed to be the focus of food and drink.

A waiter bearing a tray thrust a glass in August’s hand; another held a tray full of sandwiches, pies and sausage rolls under his nose until he made a selection.

He drank the wine in one. It was immediately replaced.

‘ Now, darling,’ Janine said, ‘I promised to introduce you to some people. I won’t be long.’

She left him open-mouthed by the pool and hurried back into the house, where Lenny Dakin was waiting for her.

The businessmen spent an hour with August. One said he had the largest Volkswagen dealership this side of Birmingham and was interested in sponsoring vehicles for the special constabulary. The other said he owned a firm specialising in industrial, commercial and domestic security. He wanted to sponsor neighbourhood watch schemes by providing cut price security items, even free ones to pensioners.

August was hooked. The ease of it amazed him. Getting money out of the private sector was usually like getting blood out of a stone. But this! Pure gold.

Both men promised they would contact him the following week.

Business concluded, the two out of work actors left him beaming with pleasure into his beer. They collected their fee — ?100 each — were told to forget this night ever happened, and left the party. Neither one had any idea why the charade had been carried out. Some sort of practical joke, they assumed.

Janine rejoined August who was sitting at a table by the pool.

He shook his head in admiration. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you. You are brilliant. And sexy. And intelligent. It was a freak of Fate, us meeting like that and hitting it off so well, wasn’t it?’ He was referring to their first encounter two weeks before during a flutter he and a couple of friends were having at a casino in Blackpool.

‘ Mm, she agreed. ‘It was a freak.’

‘ Why did you agree to have dinner with me so readily?’ he enquired. ‘You didn’t even know who I was.’

‘ Yes, I did, actually. I’ve seen you on TV many times. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to get to know you. You’re an interesting guy, to say the least.’

Janine hoped she sounded convincing. The effects of the cocaine Dakin had allowed her were wearing off now and she needed another snort.

Bastard, she thought. I’ll be glad when all this is over.

‘ Anyway,’ she said, raising her eyes to his again, ‘now that I’ve kept my promise, I want you to make one to me.’

‘ Anything. ‘

‘ That you’ll let me fuck your brains out.’

August nearly came there and then. ‘Here?’ he croaked.

‘ My place. I have a house nearby.’

‘ I didn’t know that.’

‘ There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Davey darling.’

‘ In that case, I promise.’

‘ That was lovely,’ Karen said softly.

‘ Yes, it was.’ Donaldson was tired and dreamy.

They were lying facing each other, holding hands, a single sheet draped over their bodies.

‘ I was frightened that it would never happen,’ she confessed. ‘I was terrified that I wouldn’t want a man to touch me again after what I went through.’

Donaldson rested a leg across hers. He kissed her neck.

‘ I’ll help you every step of the way, if you want me to,’ he promised tenderly.

‘ Yes, I do. I want you in my life all the time, for everything, not just that.-’

‘ Sounds fine by me.’

‘ But I want to ask you something… do you think I should prosecute Dave for what he did to me, or just let it lie?’

‘ Er, how could you do it now?’ asked Donaldson. He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘It would be your word against his, wouldn’t it? Pretty damned difficult to get a conviction, especially after six months.’

Karen took a deep breath. ‘Just after it happened I was in deep shock and I didn’t really know what to do about it. I went away for a month to Greece — Skiathos, but before I did I went to a rape crisis centre in Manchester. They were very kind to me. It’s a fantastic place, in its own way. I had a few days’ counselling there and made a statement while it was all fresh in my mind. And 1 saw a doctor too.’

‘ So?’ Donaldson was puzzled.

‘ A specially trained doctor who specialises in sexual assault cases. She took photos of my injuries, made her own notes and took samples, swabs for evidence — and kept them all. It’s the sort of place where they understand that the victim isn’t always completely together mentally and may not be in a position to press charges. So they take the samples and store them at the correct temperatures, just in case the victim wants to pursue it at a later date.’

‘ You mean all the forensic evidence is still there, intact?’

She nodded.

‘ Well I’ll be damned!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s handy.’

‘ I feel I may want to press charges, but I’m still not sure. I’m still in two minds about it.’ Tears stood in her eyes.

‘ Hey, calm down, don’t upset yourself.’ He stroked her hair.

‘ Sorry. I need to discuss it with you, but not now, not here — I’ve a lot of love-making to catch up on — but soon. Do you mind? I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved.’

‘ I want to get involved all right,’ he said, ‘physically and mentally, OK?’

She slipped a hand around the back of his neck and eased him towards her. ‘I love you,’ she said. They began to kiss.

Dave August stirred and rubbed his eyes. He looked at his watch. Six-thirty in the morning. He pushed the sheet back and swung his legs out of bed. Then he realised where he was. Janine’s house, somewhere south of Manchester. A smile spread across his face as he glanced round at the sleeping female next to him in the large bed.

Carefully he pulled the sheet off her and looked at her bare flesh with a tinge of pleasure.

He felt himself move again.

But no. He had to leave.

Janine stirred and moved over the bed to rub her bare breasts against his naked back.

‘ I need to be going,’ he said reluctantly. ‘You said you’d give me directions to the motorway. I don’t know this area at all!’

‘ Later,’ she murmured, and gently slid her hand around to grip his twitching penis, taking it firmly in her palm. She squeezed it, began to manipulate it. It expanded rapidly.

August placed a hand on one of her breasts.

As soon as August and Janine left the house some twenty minutes later, a removal van pulled up outside. Six men descended on the property. In less than an hour every piece of furniture and every fitting had been removed and placed in the back of the van. A ‘For Sale’ sign was erected in the front garden and the van, men on board, drove away.

The house was back on the market, being sold by a small chain of estate agents, ultimately owned by one man.

Lenny Dakin.