Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

Jarvis’s mouth became an even tighter line. ‘There could be an explanation for one of your disparities, regrettable though such a mistake might be.’

‘But not for the other,’ argued Hall, easily. ‘Since last night I am in a position to prove from the prosecution’s own witnesses, given your permission to recall, as well as from my own, that the second matter is incontrovertibly conclusive.’

‘We heard yesterday from eight witnesses who saw your client murder her husband,’ persisted the judge.

‘We also heard, from those eight witnesses, how she stood hands outstretched against the window after appearing to have carried out that murder. Each account of which further supports my request this morning.’ There had been a chance for him to sleep, after about 3 a.m., but the adrenalin had been Everest high and he hadn’t even bothered to try. Instead, having found the key, he had forced himself yet again through Jennifer Lomax’s entire file, sometimes consciously mouthing the words he read in his determination against missing anything else by being dulled by his familiarity with what he already knew. Now he was absolutely sure there were no more oversights.

To Keflin-Brown the resistant judge said, ‘You have no objection to the introduction of a new defence witness?’

‘None, my Lord,’ said the older barrister, at once.

‘What time is he due to land?’ Jarvis asked.

‘Just after midday,’ responded Hall, prepared for every query. ‘Arrangements have been made to convey him immediately to court.’

‘With hearsay evidence?’ challenged Jarvis, hopefully.

Another door he was going to enjoy slamming in the old bastard’s face. It had been Humphrey Perry’s suggestion to extend the enquiry. Which had produced the most dramatic – as well as perhaps the most inexplicable and frightening – evidence to support his application that morning. It was, Hall knew, what was unsettling everyone, something none of them understood and didn’t want to think about. ‘The court benefits from the time difference between this country and the United States of America: it was only 11 a.m. in Washington DC when your Lordship rose last night. The defence had already engaged an American lawyer, prior to the developments before your Lordship today. He was able to locate the doctor who took the original samples and have him swear an affidavit before an American judge in chambers that his findings were a true and accurate record. I would ask you to accept, my Lord, that it is therefore legally admissable and not hearsay evidence…’ Closing the lid on the box, Hall finished, ‘If that is not your view, then I will make arrangements to fly the doctor here, personally to appear before you.’

Jarvis shook his head, in defeated rejection. He looked intently and individually at the two barristers, then at Perry and Robert Morley behind. ‘Have any of you thought of the implications of this?’ he demanded, voicing the unspoken bewilderment of them all.

Keflin-Brown and Hall exchanged looks, each inviting the other to respond. Taking the responsibility, as the applicant, Hall said, ‘I cannot explain what I believe I can prove.’

‘Your application is granted, in full,’ Jarvis surrendered. There was a pause, ‘I’m minded to add God help us.’

No-one considered the remark an exaggeration or out of place. Perry was actually thinking the same thing himself.

It had been one of the most horrific times of the total horror, not as bad as having her mind taken over, or the murder itself or the lesbian rape but close behind. Jane had erupted against Jeremy Hall’s refusal to explain what was happening, screaming so loudly and so long Jennifer had screamed herself, at the physical pain it caused. Twice, despite Jennifer’s efforts to prevent it, she’d been thrown violently to the ground and had once been unable to stop herself suddenly striking out, catching the barrister a glancing blow on the side of the face. The fury had reached apoplexy at Hall’s reaction to it all. He’d greeted every outrage as if he wanted it to occur – making no effort to avoid the slap – unnecessarily pointing the worst of her behaviour out to the people before whom she was paraded, very often like an exhibit. She recognized some, like the two detectives and the prosecuting barrister and court officials, but not others. They’d ignored her too when Jane had made her demand to know their names and what they were doing, snipping a sample of hair and fingerprinting her and taking yet another blood test. Jane had made her jerk her arm when the needle went in, breaking it off, so she had another sore wound in her arm: it had taken all her own effort as well as Hall physically holding her arm for the sample and the fingerprints to be taken. All that had been done by someone she didn’t know, in her cell, although the prison doctor had attended as a witness. Hall and Perry and some other strangers were there, too, and so much official activity had obviously frightened the matron. Jennifer had used it further to scare the woman after everyone had gone, lying about an authority inquiry. There hadn’t been any cream residue when she’d awoken that morning and Jennifer hadn’t detected anything during the night, which she believed she might have done. Jane had maintained an unrelenting barrage of noise, penetrating even the sedative, so Jennifer had always had a vague awareness of her surroundings. It had been a pill, not an injection – further evidence the matron didn’t intend drugging her beyond any awareness of what was happening to her – and Jane had succeeded in making her vomit the first one up before managing to swallow the second.

The tirade had continued that morning. Jennifer’s hand had been jerked and pulled when she’d tried to make-up and dress her hair, so the effort was very much worse than at the beginning of the previous two days, although better than at their end, after Jane had made her drool. She’d chosen a dress today, dark blue again to minimize the inevitable staining and intended trying hard to remember to have more clothes brought up from Hampshire: both suits were too crumpled and sweat-and-saliva stained for a second wearing. She doubted if cleaning would help.

The threats had approached hysteria, on the way to court. There was: ‘ Find out what’s going on! If you don’t, I’m going to make you do things you can’t even begin to imagine! ’ And then: ‘ Forget the attack on Emily: Gerald even. You’ll go out with the biggest bang ever .’ Followed by: ‘ You find out or by tonight you’re in the funny farm, for life.’ And then that most familiar of all: ‘ Don’t fool yourself, Jennifer. You know you can’t fight me – resist me – sufficiently.’ Before a return to the beginning: ‘I want to know what’s going on! ’

So did Jennifer. Desperately. From the fact that Keflin-Brown and his junior were involved, as well as the stone-faced Bentley and Rodgers and a lot of obvious specialists and experts it had to be important. Vital. Yet she’d been in court all the time, heard everything that was said. And there hadn’t been anything: nothing, that is, that had meant anything to her. So what was it?

‘ Find out: I keep telling you to find out! ’

Jennifer didn’t have to talk. Thinking was enough. Really knocked you off your perch, hasn’t it Jane? Really beating you this time. Said it would happen, didn’t I? Not as clever as you thought you were. Panicking. Don’t know what to do. Now you’re lost, not me. Will lose. How’s that feel? Lost and going to lose a lot more. Finished, Jane. Not just dead once. Dead twice.

‘ Dream on, bitch! Enjoy, as long as you can. Which won’t be long. That dock’s really going to be your bear pit today. You’re going to dance to every tune I want to play and I’m going to play the lot. Should have kissed sticky-fingered matron and your dyke friends goodbye. You won’t be going back to them. Got a special place for you in the looney tune chorus. Here’s a joke, just for you. A celebrity goes into an asylum, part of a compassion therapy experiment, and says to the first man he sees: “Hello. Do you know who I am?” and the man says: “No. But ask matron. She’ll tell you.” ’