Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

“You made contemporaneous notes?”

“Yes, that was how interviews were conducted in those days.”

“These notes?” Hunter opened up his folder and removed three clear plastic exhibit bags each containing a set of interview notes from the original prosecution file. “I am showing the prisoner exhibit numbers HK one, HK two and HK three.”

Alan Darbyshire separated the bags, lined them up straight in front of him and scrutinised their contents. Then he replied, “Yes these are the original notes of those interviews with Daniel Weaver.”

“And they are all signed and dated by yourself and Jeffery Howson.”

Alan Darbyshire nodded. “Yes as I’ve already said, that is what we did in those days. Once the notes were completed, Daniel would be invited to read them and if he agreed with their contents he signed them and then we signed them.”

“I just want you to look carefully at the notes Alan and confirm that numbers HK one and HK two were signed by Daniel, but in the case of the set of contemporaneous notes HK three, instead of Daniel’s signature there are the words ‘refused to sign’ at the bottom of each page.” Alan Darbyshire’s face started to flush pink. “Why is that Alan? Especially given the fact that in those notes he has admitted to killing Lucy and burying her on Langsett Moor.”

The retired DCI gulped. “I can’t answer the reason why he didn’t want to sign them. He just didn’t. But what’s in them is almost word for word of what he said. ”

“Okay, fair enough Alan, I will come back to that later, but for now we’ll move on.” He put the three exhibit bags to one side. “So, based on his admission and the evidence of the handbag found in the shed, Daniel Weaver was charged with Lucy’s murder and remanded to prison?”

“And of course the witness evidence of him and Lucy arguing in the market place yes.”

“And in May the following year he went for trial, and you stood in the witness box and gave evidence regarding everything you have just said.”

“Yes, you know all that. It’s in the file.”

“Okay, thanks Alan. I want to move it on a bit now. You know we are investigating the murder of your old colleague Jeffery Howson, because we told you that when we came to see you on twenty-sixth November.

“Yes, terrible thing that. Have you found out who killed him?”

“We have some leads.” Hunter paused and watched for a reaction as he let the words sink in. Alan Darbyshire’s look remained steadfast. “Putting those to one side, while we have been investigating his murder we have come across some disturbing evidence which impacts on the Daniel Weaver trial.” He caught a reaction in Darbyshire’s face. The retired DCI blinked several times, and gulped, but managed to re-compose himself. Hunter sifted through his exhibits and pulled out the plastic bag containing the contemporaneous notes from Jeffery Howson’s safe. “In his house we found these. I want you to look at them carefully and see if you recognise them?” Hunter turned the clear plastic bag towards him and pushed it across the table. He watched as a trickle of sweat fell from Alan Darbyshire’s hairline and down the side of his face until it collected at his jaw line.

The retired DCI spent the best part of a minute scrutinising the evidence inside the clear plastic bag and then looked up. He shrugged.

Hunter asked again, “Do you recognise them?”

“Should I?”

“Is that your signature at the top and bottom of the notes?”

He glanced at the exhibit again for a few seconds, then looked at Hunter. “Looks like mine.”

“Well those notes are timed and dated exactly the same as the ones I have previously shown you, exhibit HK three, but they are signed by Daniel Weaver and what is interesting Alan, is that in those notes, just like as in exhibits HK one and HK two, he denies his involvement in the murder of Lucy Blake-Hall. What if I also tell you that those have been analysed by forensic scientists and they can be dated back to nineteen-eighty-three. You’ll know what I mean when I say they’ve been analysed, won’t you Alan? The grading of papers and the watermarks have been compared, as well as the chemical compositions of the inks. They were also ESDA tested. For the tape that is Electro Static Detection Apparatus testing, where graphite is poured onto paper and it fills in any indentations. You understand that process, don’t you Alan?”

He nodded.

“The tape can’t pick up nodding.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Testing found indentations of lettering transferred through from exhibit number HK two. You know what that means, don’t you Alan?”

“Enlighten me.”

“These notes from Jeffery Howson’s house must have been at some stage been beneath the contemporaneous notes, exhibit HK two, for the handwriting impressions to have indented through. I therefore put it to you that these notes are the original ones Daniel made during your interview with him, and that notes HK three are a fabrication you and Jeffery Howson put together after interview to convict Daniel Weaver.”

Alan Darbyshire stared hard at Hunter. The corners of his mouth set tight and then he answered, “No comment.”

“You went into the witness box at Crown Court and told lies, didn’t you?”

“No comment.”

Hunter sat back in his seat and grinned. After several seconds of silence, he leant forward. “I want to now ask you questions about the murder of Jeffery Howson.”

“What?”

“When we spoke with you at your home, one of the questions we asked you was, when did you last speak with Jeffery? If I remember rightly, your response was ‘It’d be about two weeks ago now.’ In fact, we know from phone records that Jeffery rang your home on the evening of twenty-second November, the day he was murdered.”

Alan Darbyshire bit down on his lower lip, pondered on the question for a good ten seconds, then the look on his face lightened. “Now now, detective sergeant, I think you need to check your notes there. If I remember rightly you asked me when I had last seen Jeff, not when I last spoke with him.” He threw his own smug grin back at Hunter.

Hunter glanced at Grace for support. She shrugged. He quickly gathered his thoughts.

“Okay Alan, my mistake. Moving on regarding that call he made to you, what did he say.”

Darbyshire looked to the ceiling momentarily then answered, “Nothing much, just passing the time of day, this and that. I think he just wanted to talk to someone.”

“It wasn’t to tell you then that he was going to the police and tell us about the miscarriage of justice he and you had been involved in regarding Daniel Weaver.”

The retired DCI coloured up. “No, definitely not.”

“DS Kerr, that is out of order.” It was the first time the solicitor had intervened.

Although Hunter knew he had struck a raw nerve, he also knew he needed to back off. He held up his hands in surrender, then said, “Changing tack Alan, how well do you know Peter Blake-Hall?”

He seemed to think about the question, then answered, “Long time. You’ll probably be aware, if you’ve done your homework, that Jeff and I used to pay him a visit at his club in the early eighties. Used to drink there occasionally.”

“And you used to work for him.”

“Yep, no secret. I needed a job once I retired, and he had the ideal position of a club manager going vacant. I used to make sure everything ran smoothly at the club regarding his licence and the hiring of staff, et cetera.”

“And when did you last see him?” Hunter paused, then added, “Or last spoke with him?” He put on a fake smile. “I don’t want to get my questions misinterpreted.”

“It’d be a good year or so. I don’t have anything to do with Peter any more. I don’t need to.”