Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

Jarvis held up his hand against Hall speaking, going again to the media. ‘You should all of you be aware of the restrictions when a jury is out of court. But I will once again remind you. Not one single word of what is said in their absence can be reported. I will have my clerk and other court officers read every newspaper, listen to every radio transmission and watch every television broadcast. If I recognize one word from what is about to be discussed, the provider of that report and his or her editor will be jailed for contempt…’ He turned back to the barristers. ‘Mr Hall?’

‘It is my submission, my Lord, that upon the evidence I have brought before you today, it would be legally unsafe to continue the prosecution for murder against my client-’

‘Which it was unnecessary to send the jury out to make,’ broke in the judge. ‘And precisely the guidance I intend to make to the jury.’

‘I’m obliged for that advice, my Lord. But it will not constitute a verdict of not guilty for my client.’

‘Of course it will in everything but pronouncement, Mr Hall. You’re nitpicking.’

‘With respect, my Lord, there is something more that could be done publicly and totally to exonerate my client of any guilt for the crime upon which she has been arraigned.’

Jarvis’s face was furrowed into a frown that made him appear more wizened than ever.

‘ What the fuck now! ’

‘What is that, Mr Hall?’

‘As your Lordship has already heard, the shank of hair recovered from Gerald Lomax’s office is a different colour from that of Mrs Lomax. Last night, with Mrs Lomax’s agreement, samples were taken of her hair. Both are at this moment being subjected to DNA analysis and comparison, not just by Doctor Billington but by a separate forensic expert engaged by the defence. I am hopeful of a result within the next twenty-four hours. Some of the O Rhesus Negative blood is also being subjected to DNA matching…’

‘… Your submission, Mr Hall, your submission!’

‘The grave of Mrs Jane Lomax is in Mortlake cemetery. I am applying to you, my Lord, for an exhumation order for that grave to be opened for DNA tests upon the hair and bone that the coffin will still contain. And for the findings of those tests to be compared with the DNA found in the blood and hair currently being examined by defence and prosecution forensic specialists-’

‘ NO! ’ Jennifer stopped herself echoing the deafening scream but couldn’t prevent being hurled bodily across the dock so violently that she crashed into its side. Her breath was knocked completely from her and the duty doctor who examined her in the dock guessed at two cracked ribs. When the doctor insisted upon X-rays – which later confirmed three – Hall immediately applied for bail, with a condition of residency in hospital. Within an hour she was back in the same private ward at St Thomas’s to which she’d been admitted after the murder. Completing the coincidence, she was put under the care of Dr Peter Lloyd, who travelled from the court with her in the ambulance.

With difficulty, wincing against the pain, Jennifer said, ‘I’m glad it’s you. There’s something I need to know.’ She wasn’t going back to prison to be used as a sex toy, she realized.

Jarvis continued in Jennifer’s absence. The fully co-operative Keflin-Brown hurriedly supported Hall’s application – totally aware of the incredible events and inevitable publicity in the wake of which he was being borne along – and the judge issued the exhumation order with a further injunction against press intrusion, warning that he was extending the precincts of the court for a radius of five hundred yards around the grave of the first Mrs Lomax.

When he arrived at St Thomas’s, Hall realized he’d made an error in not anticipating what would be happening there and by failing to ask the judge for an additional precincts order. The hospital authorities had already complained and adding to the irony of Jennifer’s return Superintendent Hopkins was again in charge of the police unit confronting the press siege. There was none of the officious belligerence he’d shown towards Hall for Emily’s disastrous visit. They were doing their best to prevent any media person entering the premises, he reported formally, and there were uniformed officers in the corridor outside Jennifer’s ward, intercepting anyone who approached. Four journalists and two photographers had already been arrested and charged with behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace: one, an Italian, had been wearing a white coat and insisted he was a doctor.

‘Is it a fact that she’s genuinely possessed by the first wife?’ demanded the policeman, incredulous.

‘I think so.’

‘What’s going to happen to her?’

‘I don’t know.’ He wished he did, thought Hall, moving through the hospital. His responsibility towards Jennifer Lomax ended with the conclusion of the trial, extending beyond that only to any outstanding legal formalities. But the end of the trial was hardly going to be the end of her problems. But they weren’t legal, he warned himself. They were personal: medically – or perhaps more accurately psychiatrically – personal. Not his consideration then.

He was challenged twice at the level of Jennifer’s ward, once directly outside the elevator and again at the police barrier outside the individual room. There it needed Dr Lloyd’s intervention to persuade the suspicious policeman he really was Jennifer’s lawyer.

She smiled wanly up at him as he entered the room. ‘Here we are again.’ She plucked at the hospital-issue nightdress. ‘And the fashion hasn’t changed.’

‘ And I’m still here, too.’

‘How are you?’ asked Hall.

‘It hurts, when I breathe.’ He’d moved the chair away from the bed, not closer, when he sat.

‘ Frightened of you. Frightened of me. Cowardy, cowardy custard, his balls are made of mustard.’

‘The judge granted the order.’

Jennifer was ready, gripping the side of the bed. The movement vibrated though her and the voice screamed, ‘ Mother-fucker. I’d get you too, if I could.’

‘She called you a mother-fucker.’

‘She’s got a dirty mouth,’ taunted Hall.

‘Will I have to go back to the prison hospital?’

Hall shook his head. ‘I got Jarvis to agree to bail, on condition you resided here.’

‘ Well aren’t you the smarty pants! ’

‘Never?’ demanded Jennifer, intensely.

‘Whatever the result of the exhumation, Jarvis is going to direct the jury that it’s unsafe to convict.’

Jennifer closed her eyes. ‘Thank God for that!’

‘ Doesn’t matter a damn.’

‘She says it doesn’t matter a damn.’

‘Why’s she so hysterical then?’

‘ Kiss my ass, cocksucker.’

‘You believed me from the beginning, didn’t you?’ said Jennifer. ‘No-one else believed me but you.’

‘Yes,’ lied Hall. He did now, he accepted, finally confronting the phenomenon. He was talking to a woman inside of whose head there was another woman, a woman he knew all about, a murderer. Believed it so much he was talking to Jane as if she existed: was a real person, in the same room. He shivered, visibly.

‘What’s the matter?’ frowned Jennifer.

‘ Scared shitless, that’s what’s the matter.’

‘Someone walked over my grave,’ Hall said, inadequately.

‘ Leave mine alone! ’

Jennifer held his eyes for several moments. Then, nodding to the corridor outside, she said, ‘There’s more police than before.’

Hall shifted, further discomfited. ‘The hospital is virtually under media siege. The police outside are to keep them away from you. There’s a lot more downstairs.’

‘ Freak. ’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’