Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

‘Better than that carried out at the time.’

‘ So tell them! I want everyone to hear it! I want my trial. Not the trial there should have been but for the truth to come out at last: Jennifer was panting, short-breathed from gabbling Jane’s insistence. The words that followed were measured, a threat the barrister didn’t need to hear. ‘ And I do hope you’ve got it right. Found it all out. I shall be very angry if you haven’t.’

He didn’t have any of the carefully listed notes, the points enumerated: any of the inquest statements or the replies from the American lawyer to the specific queries he’d raised. Everything was back in his own rooms, at the far end of the corridor. ‘I have to collect some papers.’

‘ What? ’

The evidence you need.’

Could he risk the courtroom ploy of engendering anger? ‘Or don’t you want to hear and see evidence to prove you wrong?’

‘ Careful! ’

‘The real truth? Or the truth according to Jane Lomax, not interested in hearing any story other than that she wants to believe?’

‘ I told you to be careful! ’

‘“Not the trial there should have been but for the truth to come out,”’ Hall quoted, throwing Jane’s words back at her.

‘ Hurry. Be very quick before I lose my patience.’

Hall indicated the cluttered table to Julian Mason as he rose, conscious of Jennifer’s pleading eyes upon him. He walked normally to his own suite, refusing to be panicked. It was all prepared, waiting. For a few moments, just seconds, he remained there, composing himself. Or delaying? he demanded. Positively he strode out of the room and back along the corridor. The table was cleared except for water, the dinner debris piled carelessly on to the coffee table by the television. The priest still prayed. Jennifer looked up at his entry, imploringly. Hall poured water first for her, then for himself.

‘ You planning any more delays? ’

‘None. Are you?’

Jennifer looked up at him again, shaking her head.

‘ She doesn’t think you can save her.’

‘We need an undertaking, don’t we?’

‘ What undertaking? ’

‘If I make the case, you’ll free Jennifer?’ pressed the barrister. He’d left normality and the ordinary behind again, he accepted. He wished he knew where that put him now.

‘ Make your case.’

It wasn’t the commitment he’d wanted but it would have to do. Hall breathed in deeply again, readying himself. He sipped some water. ‘Let me make yours, instead. I think you were murdered.’

‘ Hah! ’

A gasp came from Jennifer, too. Her look towards him now wasn’t any longer imploring. It was accusing and at the same time bewildered, the expression of someone who had been deceived and couldn’t understand why. Almost, in fact, one of guilt. The other three men were regarding him with varying degrees of astonishment: he’d discussed some but not all of the inquest disparities with them but said nothing about Humphrey Perry’s findings.

If he was to be the prosecutor, Jane had to be his witness. The realization – the full, incredible awareness – momentarily held him speechless: he was about to cross-examine the victim about her own murder. ‘He did come home that night, didn’t he? The night before you died?’ he forced himself to ask.

‘ Hey, what’s this? ’

‘The way it has to be, if you want the priest and Cox and Mason to hear your story: hear the truth. And the only way you’ll be able to judge whether I am going to get to the truth or not. So, Gerald came home that night?’

‘ Yes.’

‘After ten?’

‘ About ten-thirty.’

‘Were you in bed?’

‘ Just going.’

‘What did he say?’

‘ We’d spoken on the phone, earlier. I told him I had one of my bad headaches. I got them sometimes: Greenaway’s treatment for the stomach pains could have been contributing. Gerald said he’d driven all the way home to make sure I was all right.’

‘You’d already eaten supper?’

‘ Steak.’

‘And cleared away?’

‘ I don’t like leaving a mess.’

‘But you got something for him?’ Hall pushed her water closer to Jennifer. She ignored it.

‘ Steak. There was a lot left over, in the refrigerator.’

‘And wine? Margaux?’

‘ Gerald opened it. He liked wine.’

‘Did you sit with him, while he ate?’

‘ The commission earnings had been calculated that week. He said

…’ There was a break. ‘… He said Jennifer Stone had come out on top again, even though she’d been away from the office…’

Jennifer began to cry, soundlessly, tears edging down her face. She grabbed for the water at last, gulping it.

‘You shared the wine, while you talked?’

‘ I only had one glass: didn’t drink all of that. The headache had begun to go.’

‘Gerald drank the rest?’

‘ He enjoyed wine. Drink didn’t affect him.’

‘And he had a brandy, afterwards?’

‘ Yes.’

‘Did you go to bed straight away?’

‘ I started to clear up, put the wine bottle in the bin, but he told me he’d finish doing it. That he wanted to go to bed…’ There was another break. ‘… It was obvious he wanted to make love…’

Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut, still crying. The other three men were locked on to Jennifer, speaking for Jane. Cox’s mouth hung open.

‘So you went up ahead of him? Put your clothes away, like you usually did?’

‘ Yes.’

‘And put your underwear in the laundry basket?’

‘ Yes.’

‘And took some insulin?’

‘ I’d had problems since Dr Greenaway prescribed the stomach pills, as I told you. Nausea as well as headaches sometimes. I thought there might be a slight imbalance – I’d told Gerald, downstairs – and decided I could correct it. It was quite safe. After so long I knew exactly what I could and couldn’t do.’

‘How much did you inject?’

‘ Twenty units.’

‘Two ampoules, each of ten units?’

‘ Yes.’

‘What did you do with the ampoules?’

‘ Put them into the disposal basket.’

‘And then got into bed?’

‘ Yes.’

‘You didn’t take the syringe into the bedroom with you and put it on the side table?’

‘ Of course not! ’

‘Or any ampoules?’

‘ No.’

‘Or a glass of brandy?’

‘ No.’

‘Tell us what happened when you got into bed.’

‘ I shouldn’t have drunk what little wine I did: the headache came back. I told Gerald when he came up: I didn’t want to disappoint him, after he’d come all the way from London.’

He had to crush every feeling, Hall decided: stick always to the truth, according to the psychiatrist. ‘Disappoint him about making love, you mean?’

‘ Yes.’

Jennifer’s shoulders were heaving but still she wasn’t making any sound. She drank again.

‘What happened?’ Hall drank, too.

‘ He got me something from the bathroom.’

‘Something for the headache?’

‘ Yes.’

‘What was it?’

‘ Gerald didn’t bring a bottle back. Just some pills, in his hand .’

‘Did he say what they were?’

‘ Paracetamol. I could safely take that.’

‘You saw they were paracetamol?’

‘ The headache had got bad again. I was keeping my eyes closed against the light, although it wasn’t very bright.’

‘So he gave you pills and you took them without looking to see what they were?’

‘ Yes.’

‘What then?’

‘ He said it didn’t matter. About making love. He just held me.’

‘He got into bed to hold you?’

‘ No, not then. He sat on the side of the bed.’

‘Not then. What about later.’