Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

There was an electric ripple throughout the journalists and a murmur from the public gallery above Jennifer. The jury exchanged frowned glances.

‘“It wasn’t me. It was Jane,”’ echoed Keflin-Brown.

‘That is correct, sir.’

‘Help us if you will, Superintendent. Who is Jane?’

‘The first wife of Gerald Lomax,’ said Bentley, jolting the media with another electric charge.

‘ There you go, Jennifer. Off to the funny farm with the kind men in the white coats.’

It took the choleric Jarvis several minutes to bring the court to order. Throughout the delay Keflin-Brown retained a statue-like pose matched by that of Bentley, upright and expressionless in the witness-box. Every member of the jury and all the press were looking at Jennifer: the two artists were sketching even more rapidly.

There was a hurried gesture from the wardress with the handkerchief, which Jennifer snatched to clean her face. It meant she was only holding on to the chair with her left hand. She was lurched furiously sideways, to her left, dislodging her grip. She grabbed out frantically, at first missing the wardress’s offered hand and briefly disappeared from sight beneath the court rail, as if trying to hide from the attention, before they righted her again. A fresh hubbub arose, which the agitated Jarvis once more shouted to control.

In Jennifer’s head the voice chanted in rhyme: ‘ Peekaboo, peekaboo. Can’t see me if I can’t see you.’

‘I shall clear this court if this behaviour doesn’t cease!’ threatened Jarvis. ‘Proceed, Mr Keflin-Brown. Let’s stop this nonsense.’

‘Were you subsequently able to discover from Mrs Lomax what she meant by that remark?’

‘Not one that made any sense to me, no.’

‘Did she decline to make a statement?’ demanded Keflin-Brown, eyes wide with feigned surprise.

‘On the evening when I formally arrested her she refused to make a statement without the presence of her solicitor. I made another attempt, later, to interview Mrs Lomax at the hospital, prior to the taking of a formal statement. At that time her barrister, Mr Hall, and solicitor, Mr Perry, were present…’

‘… You were pursuing your enquiries?’

‘I was, sir. Yes.’

‘A particular line of enquiry?’

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Bentley, alert for Keflin-Brown’s guidance on how far he was expected to go.

‘This was in a police-guarded hospital ward?’

‘But the attempted interview was to be taken in strict accordance with the required rules. By which I mean there was an audio recording.’

‘What was Mrs Lomax’s demeanour?’

‘One of anger, mostly. She seemed upset that her legal advisors, their having apparently earlier told her to say nothing, had now agreed to our conducting the interview without prior consultation with her.’

‘Was that all?’

‘There were some remarks from Mrs Lomax which were disorientated.’

Hall rose to his feet, stopping the other barrister. ‘I wonder, my Lord, if we are not endangering privilege here?’

‘The witness has testified to having given Mrs Lomax an official caution. And you were present,’ said Jarvis.

Hall ran his hand over the papers before him. ‘There was no indication that this would be included, in the prosecution’s disclosures.’

‘I’m prepared to admit it,’ ruled Jarvis.

‘I’m obliged, my Lord,’ said Keflin-Brown as Hall sat. Then he said, ‘Angry and disorientated? Anything else?’

‘She demanded the presence of a doctor, to act as an independent witness.’

‘So she was agreeing to be interviewed?’

‘I believed that to be the case.’

‘Why should Mrs Lomax have needed an independent witness with her lawyers being present?’

‘It was never made clear, sir. She seemed to believe she would be cheated. At one stage she indicated she was dispensing with her legal representatives.’

‘Cheated!’ said Keflin-Brown, stressing artificial bewilderment. ‘Cheated of what? By whom?’

‘I never discovered that, sir.’

‘Was there a particular line of enquiry you were pursuing at this time?’

It was coming, thought Jennifer, and Jane said, ‘ You bet your sweet ass it is.’

‘There was, sir.’

‘Tell my Lord and the jury what that was.’

‘I had discovered Mr Lomax’s involvement with a member of staff and wanted to establish Mrs Lomax’s awareness of it.’

‘You mean a sexual involvement? An affair?’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was a stir from both the jury and the press.

‘What was Mrs Lomax’s reaction?’

‘She became hysterical. And collapsed.’

‘Were you able to resume that interview at a later date?’

‘No, sir. When I attempted to do so I was told by Mrs Lomax’s legal advisors that she declined to speak to me further.’

‘How long have you been in the police force, Superintendent?’

‘Twenty-eight years, sir.’

‘A man of considerable experience?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Including, regrettably, experience of murder cases?’

Speaking directly towards the jury again, Bentley said, ‘A total of twelve. All of which have led to a conviction.’

‘In that considerable experience, have people collapsed under questioning before?’

‘Several times.’

‘And in your opinion, based upon your considerable experience, was Mrs Lomax’s collapse genuine? Or faked?’

‘In my opinion, sir, it was faked.’

Keflin-Brown turned away from the detective, to face the jury again. ‘As I told you at the beginning of this case, you must at all times be guided on the questions of law by my Lord. But I would advise you that it has been the law in this country, since 1994, that juries are allowed to draw inference of guilt or innocence from a defendant’s insistence upon remaining silent.’

Jeremy Hall was annoyed but professionally so, still totally under control. Keflin-Brown had massaged the presentation to within a hair’s-breadth of what was permissible and if he’d been the counsel to attempt it Mr-Justice-Bloody-Jarvis would have cut him off at the knees. But then it had been a very long time since anyone had seriously tried to advance a case that the law, any more than life, was fair.

‘There is a lot more with which you can help the court, isn’t there, Superintendent?’ Hall spoke as he stood, a Keflin-Brown type mannerism.

‘I’m not sure that I can.’

No ‘sir’, Hall noted. ‘You were aware of something else at the time of the attempted interview about which you’ve told the court, quite apart from any affair that Gerald Lomax might have been involved in, weren’t you?’

‘I am not sure,’ repeated Bentley.

Trying to hold the knee-jerk temper, gauged Hall. ‘That surprises me.’

‘I am afraid I don’t understand.’

‘You’re a police officer of twenty-eight years’ experience? You’ve successfully solved twelve murders, a commendable record?’

‘Is there a point here, Mr Hall?’ demanded Jarvis.

It was an attempt to help the detective, but Hall saw at once how to use it to his advantage. ‘Very much indeed, my Lord. I am seeking to establish the credibility of this witness.’

‘Credibility?’ queried Jarvis, still to Hall’s benefit although not intending it to be.

‘Very much so, my Lord.’

‘How?’

Beside Hall, Keflin-Brown stirred, discomfited. In the witness-box the colour had begun to suffuse Bentley’s face. Hall said, ‘Upon the very essence of detection, I would have thought. His observation – about which Superintendent Bentley has already talked to this court – and of an incomplete record of an encounter at which, to the great benefit perhaps of my client, I was fortunate to be present.’