Tim Vicary - A Game of Proof

Sarah bowed. ‘As your lordship wishes.’ It was no more than she had expected. But any appeal court would know that she had tried three times to get this case thrown out. The judge’s decision would have to be proven right in all three instances; no one could say she had not tried.

‘So, Mrs Newby. The jury are chafing at the bit. Shall we begin?’

Sarah sighed. ‘Very well, my lord.’ The jurors filed morosely back into their seats, looking far less eager than the judge had suggested, and she called Graham Dewar.

Dewar was a bricklayer who had worked with Gary for a company called MacFarlane’s. When Lucy had first discovered him Sarah had been delighted. Whatever else, he would embarrass the police. He was a respectable, red-faced man, uncomfortable in his shiny blue suit.

‘Mr Dewar, when you worked with Gary Harker, did you know a man called Sean?’

‘I did, yes.’.

‘Did you know his surname?’

‘Never did, no. Always called him Sean, that’s all.’

‘Was he friendly with Gary?’

‘Quite friendly, yes, I suppose. I think they met in prison, like.’

That’s just what I didn’t need, Sarah thought. Quickly, she moved on.

‘What sort of man was he?’

Dewar considered. ‘Well, a sort of fitness fanatic, I suppose. Did a lot of training. Not very chatty. I didn’t know him right well, like. He were there for two or three weeks and then gone.’

‘Is that unusual?’

‘No. We get lots like him. Work for a bit then go back on t’dole. Happens all’t time.’

‘When did he leave?’

‘Well, I can’t say for definite — but it were about same time as Gary got arrested. Middle of October, maybe. Around then.’

‘I see.’ Sarah glanced at the jury. ‘One last question, then, Mr Dewar. Did the police ever come to your building site, to ask you or your mates if this man existed?’

Dewar shook his head. ‘No. Definitely not. If they’d come I’d have told them like, but nobody ever asked before your solicitor did.’ He indicated Lucy, sitting behind Sarah.

‘Thank you, Mr Dewar. Stay there, please.’ Sarah glanced at Terry in the well of the court, and sat down. Lloyd-Davies, perhaps as a sign of contempt, had asked his junior, James Morris, to cross-examine. The young man stood up eagerly, and began in a well-educated southern voice. ‘That’s all a pack of lies, Mr Dewar, isn’t it?’

Dewar took his time answering, examining the young lawyer curiously, as though he had never seen anything quite like him before and was curious how he was put together. ‘No, young man, it isn’t bloody lies. It’s the truth, like I swore to tell on yon book.’

James Morris flushed. ‘Well, we’ll see what the jury think, shall we? You’re a close friend of Gary Harker, aren’t you?’

‘No, not particularly.’

Sarah glanced at Lloyd-Davies, to see how he was taking his protege’s performance.

‘Well, you came here to testify on his behalf.’

‘Don’t make me his friend, does it? As a matter of fact I don’t like the feller much.’

‘But … if you don’t like him, why have you come?’

‘To tell’t truth, young man. For justice’ sake. In’t that what you do ‘ere?’

Morris was sunk. He floundered on for some time but only dug himself deeper into a hole. Sarah blew Lucy a silent kiss. Despite the unfortunate comment about prison, Dewar was a gem. She had hit the bullseye this time. The only trouble was, he was the only shot in her locker.

James Morris sat down at four o’clock. The judge peered at Sarah over his spectacles.

‘Will your client be taking the stand, Mrs Newby?’

‘That remains to be decided, my lord. I need to take instructions.’

‘Very well. We will resume at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’ The judge levered himself to his feet, the clerk cried out ‘All Stand!’ and court was over for the day.

Lucy came out of court with her. ‘Will you put him on the stand?’

‘I would advise not.’

‘Why? We’re doing well, and he’s consistently denied it.’

‘You know how he talks. Lloyd-Davies will prick him and goad him until he explodes. The jury will loathe him.’

‘But if we don’t, they’ll think he’s got something to hide.’

‘He has. His voice, his temper, the lies about his alibi. He’s got everything to hide. But if he doesn’t speak they won’t hear it from his own mouth. They’ll just hear me.’

In his cell Gary grinned at them. ‘We’re doing well, lasses, eh?’

‘I’m doing well,’ said Sarah coolly. ‘You’re probably going to jail.’

‘Eh? What d’yer mean, you stuck-up bitch? It’s your job to keep me out of jail, in’t it?’

‘Yes, but unless you prove your alibi, the jury are going to draw the obvious conclusion.’

‘What d’you mean? You’ve just heard about Sean, haven’t you?’

‘We’ve heard he exists but that doesn’t mean he was with you that night, does it? And their last witness saw you in Albert Street, for heaven’s sake! What were you doing there?’

‘I’ve told yer. I was on me way home after shagging this bird I met.’

‘A bird whose name we don’t know, with a friend called Sean who’s conveniently vanished. The prosecution will crucify you about that, Gary. It would have been better to say nothing than tell the police a tale about girls whose names you can’t even remember.’

‘Have you never had a feller whose name you forgot next day? It happens all’t time.’

‘To you, maybe, but not to me,’ Sarah said primly, thinking bleakly of her first husband Kevin and how similar he was in some ways to this thug before her. ‘And my girlfriends didn’t do a bunk the next day, either. You do realise, if we could find this shagging companion of yours — Sean — and he confirmed your story, you’d be a free man tomorrow.’

Gary grinned, amused by her unexpectedly coarse language. ‘I know, but he’s scarpered, ain’t he? He always were a devious bugger.’

‘Not much of a friend, then, after all?’ Sarah said sarcastically. ‘If he was ever there.’

‘You calling me a liar, woman?’ He rose suddenly to his feet, six foot three of tattooed brawn and beer belly towering above them. Lucy flinched, but Sarah stood her ground. She was not surprised; she had intended to provoke him.

‘That’s what Lloyd-Davies will say tomorrow. He’ll say you’re lying about this man Sean and the two prostitutes. Sean’s scarpered and they never existed.’

His fists opened and closed like claws. Sarah imagined them closing around her throat. But he looked more sly than angry. ‘Aye, well. It’s not a crime is it, to have the coppers on?’

‘It’s not exactly a brilliant idea to lie to the police when they’re accusing you of rape. Is that what you’re going to say in court tomorrow, that this alibi was just a fantasy of yours?’

‘What if I do? It don’t prove I raped the cow, does it? You said so yourself!’

‘I didn’t call her a cow, Gary.’

‘No. But she is for all that. You don’t know her.’

‘All right, Gary.’ Sarah became brisk, preparing to leave. ‘We’ve done quite well, like you say, and tomorrow is the final speeches. As a defendant you have the right to give evidence on your own behalf if you choose, but as your advocate I strongly suggest you say nothing. If you go in the witness box Julian Lloyd-Davies will do his best to make the jury dislike you, and to be frank I think he’ll succeed. If you say nothing then I can emphasise the weaknesses in the prosecution case, which will give us a better chance. But it’s for you to decide. Do you agree?’

He frowned at her, thinking. ‘You want me to keep me trap shut and tell no more lies?