Beyond Innocence (19 page)

“Yes,” said Harry. “That’s a thought, although, I doubt if it will do any good especially with me in here.”

Irene stood up to indicate to the waiting observer that the meeting was coming to an end, and, as they parted with a wave, she thought she glimpsed the briefest of smiles cross his face. When she returned to her office in Manchester she found a number of messages waiting for her. One message in particular caught her attention; it was from a fellow QC requesting a meeting for lunch where she would receive important information concerning her client, Harry Thompson. More than intrigued by this message, she dialled the number given, and she soon found herself connected and talking to Peter Ravenscroft QC. Within minutes she had agreed a time for lunch at the Wig and Gown, a local pub frequented by members of the legal profession. Peter Ravenscroft imparted no useful information during this conversation. As a consequence, she found herself in a quandary regarding the value of any information he might have, and where on earth it could have come from.

She saw him the instant she entered the bar, which was beginning to fill up rapidly, and by the time she reached him he had already secured the drinks. He motioned to a table where they quickly sat down. Without waiting he began, “Just listen to what I have to say, then, after we have had a sandwich or two, I’ll let you decide where we go from here. I’ve just defended a client who figured prominently in your recent murder trial. Yes, you’re so right, Royston Chambers, none other. Well, to keep matters short and simple, I couldn’t get him off, and he ended up with a five year stretch which caused him a considerable amount of annoyance as he was under the impression that a certain detective sergeant was going to plead on his behalf for a very lenient sentence, taking into account his evidence against your client Thompson. As the detective did not appear, Chambers is firmly convinced that five years is far too long, and the copper has reneged on his promise. As a result, Chambers is now threatening that, if he does not make an effort on his behalf when his appeal comes up, then he’s going to announce to the press, not only was his evidence totally false, but it was all set up with the connivance of Detective Sergeant West, and his boss Detective Inspector Peter Taylor.

To Irene, this was earth shattering news, and, if it was true, then at a stroke the evidence against her client in the Clarkson case could be almost wiped out. The fact that there was still the evidence of the prostitute Bridget Riley was of no consequence, because Irene knew that her evidence was a tissue of lies, and armed with this new evidence in court, she was certain she would be able to break her down once she had her in the box again. She could hardly contain herself, and lunch was almost forgotten in the excitement of the moment. “How did all this materialise, Peter, and where does it leave us?”

Peter Ravenscroft thought for a moment before replying, “By allowing you to become his brief, and letting you take the matter from there. I must stress that before he was taken off into custody he was already saying that he had a good QC in mind if I failed to deliver, and I can only assume this was a direct reference to you, so getting yourself appointed shouldn’t be too difficult. The main stumbling block here is any part the police may have played in ensuring your client was convicted. Because of this, I’d like to see if I can get some cooperation from Detective Sergeant West when I apply for an appeal for Chambers. The way I see it is, if the detective does give his backing and support to Chambers, it’s not going to make the slightest difference. You see, my client is absolutely adamant on this, whether the support is there or not, he is still going to cause trouble. This is because he maintains that he was as good as promised he wouldn’t get a custodial sentence for his offence if he supplied the goods against your client, and he certainly did that didn’t he?”

Irene thought for a moment before replying, “Yes, he certainly did that. If what you’re saying is true, surely if you apply for the appeal and the police appear as requested, he gets out a lot sooner, then presumably, he’s still going to come over to our side, because he’s continuing to be upset about the police stitching him up. Alternatively, if the appeal fails, he comes over anyway doesn’t he?”

“Well that’s the chance. Just suppose he wins his appeal, and he does get out how does anybody know he’ll do what he says? After all, once he’s out, it’s a different ball game. Right now, I think I have to proceed with his appeal against sentence and, before the actual hearing, let’s just see whether or not things have fallen into place. Once I’ve done that, we can have a little conference, and who knows we may decide to get the court to order Sergeant West to attend.”

With all kinds of possibilities flying through her mind, Irene agreed with the proposal, and vowed to make another visit to Harry in Strangeways Gaol. They shook hands, making a promise to keep in constant touch in order to monitor future developments.

For the next few days, the information she had received dominated the thoughts in her mind. Even at night, she found it difficult to dismiss the case from her mind. As a result sleep was very difficult to come by. All the time, she kept wrestling with the problem of how to proceed with Harry’s appeal in the Wilson case. She knew the evidence was circumstantial, and the prosecution had relied on the DNA tests together with the confession. Now, with only the DNA evidence, it left the conviction looking far less safe, but to her it still left that nagging doubt as to whether it would be sufficient to convince the appeal court judges. Over and over again, she told herself there was something else, another way. There just had to be, but what on earth was it? In an effort to resolve the matter, the cases had even been discussed in chambers, but so far she and the other partners had all drawn a blank. During these discussions, her colleagues had been fully supportive of her in connection with the Clarkson case, and they were all of the opinion that, without the confession, that case all but fell apart, provided the defence had Chambers on board.

After another troubled night, she was preparing herself for work. As usual, the radio was playing on the customary Radio 2 station when she heard an announcement concerning the case of Edwin Hurst, due before the European Courts later that day. Although she did not hear the announcement in full, nevertheless, the part she did hear was sufficient to set her pulse racing. Apparently, Edwin Hurst had been arrested by the police in Birmingham, and he’d been convicted and sentenced to a period of imprisonment. However, the most important part, as far as Irene was concerned, related to his appeal being heard in The Hague on the grounds that, under Article Six of The European Convention, his human rights had been abused when he was denied his right to silence when he was charged. The moment she heard that snatch of the bulletin she had an idea that this case might throw up something which could possibly affect the verdict in the Wilson case, and she resolved to arrange to have all the relevant details of the case faxed to her chambers as soon as possible after the verdict.

In turn, this led her thoughts to the Clarkson case and, more importantly, to the procedure to be adopted. She was now aware, with confirmation that the confession was false, that she wasn’t really in a position to take over from Peter Ravenscroft QC as this might later be construed that there was a conflict of interests.

As she climbed into her car to make the journey to the prison, she decided that, when she returned to her office, she would contact Peter and ask him to keep the case, and when he next saw Chambers he should tell him in no uncertain manner, that, if he was to persist in his chosen line of defence, he was almost certainly facing a longer term of imprisonment if he was then found guilty of perjury. Before setting off, she made a note to remind herself that the best way forward would be to get Chambers on their side for Thompson’s Appeal. Then, after admitting his trial evidence was false, it might be possible to get the courts to view his case with a greater degree of sympathy, should it then be shown he had been coerced into lying by the police. In addition, if it was possible to use the same approach with Bridget Riley, then things would look decidedly better. She made another note to contact Michael Mulrooney in order to ask him to initiate discreet enquiries amongst Bridget Riley’s fellow prostitutes to see whether any of them had been approached by the police to provide information to assist the police in their earlier investigations into the Clarkson case.

She started the car and made her way to the office. During the journey, she found it difficult to concentrate due to the constant stream of thoughts and ideas whirling around in her brain. With a minimum of time, she had completed all her tasks and she was soon making her way out of Manchester heading for Strangeways Prison.

Once again, she was in the same dingy prison interview room waiting for Harry to arrive. She didn’t have to wait very long before he appeared, and she began as soon as he sat down. “Please sit down,” she said quietly. This is simply a quick visit to let you know how things are going right now. First of all, there is a case before the European Courts today concerning human rights violations. Once the verdict has been reached, it’s possible that the fall-out from it could affect your verdict in the Wilson case. Secondly, and you must keep this strictly to yourself, we may have a chance to prove that the evidence of Chambers was nothing but a tissue of lies. Now please, don’t run away from here thinking all you have to do is appear in court, and this nightmare is over, because, it doesn’t work like that at all. Behind the scenes, there’s a lot of work to be done, and I wanted you to get this information first hand so that you know we are all still trying to do our bit. Once we get all the pieces in place, we’ll arrange for the Clarkson case to be appealed first. Everybody is confident this is really winnable now, especially taking into account the new developments. Afterwards, and if the case before The Hague bears fruit, we’ll go through the same procedure after exhausting all possibilities here. In effect Harry, what I’m saying to you is this. If I can find any evidence to show that, during your trial in the Wilson case, your human rights were abused, then the verdict can be overturned and the conviction quashed. This means that you would be free! What do you say to that then?”

Irene sat back, feeling elated. She thought she was beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. However, she was totally unprepared for Harry’s response.

“Well actually I do not like it. You see, first of all the Clarkson case is quite all right because I can see that I might be found not guilty, but this other case that procedure leaves me cold. What you are saying to me is that you might be able to engineer my release on a technicality. Well, I don’t want that, and I’ll tell you why. If you pursue that line and I get out, I’ll always be known, and pointed out, as the man who got away with murder. Quite frankly, I couldn’t live with that. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for everything you, and the team, are doing for me, but please don’t just consider my feelings. At the same time, consider the feelings of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. How do you think they will feel if they saw me walking out of here on a technicality?”

His statement completely deflated Irene. Whereas she had confidently expected to see some sign of hope from him, there was nothing. She said quietly, “Very well if that’s your decision I’ll respect it, but you must realise that, at the end of the day, it may prove to be your only way out of here, so, please bear it in mind and give it some thought in the future won’t you?”

Harry nodded then added, “I took your advice about the adoption society. I’ve written to them to say I would like to meet my real birth mother, but I’ve also told them they must tell her who I am, and exactly what I am doing in here. By doing it this way, she has a choice, either to get in touch or leave me out of her life altogether. Naturally, I have told her about Sally, my adoptive mother, and I’ve also told her about trying to get my case reheard, so now we shall have to wait and see what happens.”

With the meeting over they went their separate ways.

Paula Harris alighted from the Taxi outside the offices of the Manchester and District Children’s Adoption Society. Her hands shook with excitement as she paid the fare, and, as the cab sped off, she took another look at the drab façade and peeling paintwork of the building. Before going inside, she took out the letter she had received from the society, and she checked the date before reading the contents for the fiftieth time to make certain she was in the right place at the right time. As each measured step took her into the building, she could feel the tension mounting within her. Already, the questions were flooding her brain. Has my son said he will meet me? If so, where, and more importantly, when? Where on earth is he living? What does he do? Is he married? Has he any children, and if so how many? What will he say when he knows he has a brother? Then again, the haunting doubts. What will I do if the answer’s no? Will they let me write to him if only to explain? As each step took her up toward the offices she had visited a few short weeks ago she stopped, aware that the excitement of the moment was getting to her. Her heart was pounding, and her breathing was coming in short sharp gasps. She stopped again for another brief pause, during which she urged herself to show a little self restraint. Then, she was at the doorway entrance. Another very brief stop for breath, she pressed the bell, and entered.

With a flourish, the yellowing window panel was thrust back to reveal the smiling features of the Matron, Edith Farrell. She recognised Paula at once from their previous encounter, and she immediately opened the door saying, “Please do come in Mrs. Harris, and take a seat whilst I arrange for a pot of tea. It’s so nice to see you again. Now please sit down, and make yourself comfortable. I really won’t keep you a moment. Paula sat down as instructed, her thoughts raced through her brain, telling her it was going to be all right. It must be. That’s why she’s making the tea. It’s good news; I know it is, otherwise they wouldn’t bother. Within a few minutes, Edith Farrell was back with a tray containing a pot of tea and two cups. Do hurry up, Paula silently pleaded, as it seemed to take an age before the hot steaming liquid was poured, and placed in front of her, together with a plate of biscuits. She lifted the cup to her lips whilst the matron began talking, “as promised we contacted your son by letter. He has replied, and that’s why we’ve asked you to come down here today. You do understand we have to guard against every eventuality, and we ask everybody to come whether the response is favourable or not. Anyway, as I just said, your son has replied, and he has asked us to give you this letter. As she passed the three sheets of prison paper over for Paula to read, Edith Farrell could see she was shaking like a leaf. Nevertheless, she carried on talking by saying, “Your son has insisted we give you this letter to read before we proceed any further, and once you have read it, I’m sure you will understand why.”

That was as far as she got. Throughout the Matron’s commentary Paula had been furiously scanning the pages, and she began to stand up as the implications of the contents began to sink in. With a cry, which sounded more like a sigh, she fell across the table, sending the contents flying in all directions, as she suffered a massive stroke to her right hand side which rendered her unconscious, blind, and almost, completely paralysed.

The Matron summoned an ambulance, and made Paula as comfortable as possible, pending her transfer to the hospital across the busy Manchester city streets. From today, she would only be able to move the little finger on her right hand and, although she would be able to hear events going on around her, she would not be able to see. Over the ensuing weeks, and months, she would endure many agonising moments, as she desperately tried to come to terms with her illness, and the almost certain knowledge that she would never physically see either of her sons again.

The news of the massive stroke suffered by his wife was relayed to Timothy in the Commons tea bar, and he made arrangements to leave for Manchester as soon as possible. Messages of condolence came flooding in from all parties, and he acknowledged them all with as much grace as he could muster, although deep down he was cursing the fact that, somehow, she had survived. As far as he was concerned, it would have been a lot better, and far easier for him, if she had died. That way, there would be no divorce, he would be even more secure financially, and he could devote more time to Julie, his pregnant mistress, and the problems her presence was causing. As he settled into his seat on the plane, he was still deep in thought about the inconvenience his wife’s illness was likely to cause him. He decided that, when he saw the doctor in charge at the hospital, he would ask how long she would be kept alive on the life support system.

Later that evening, Paula was visited by her husband Timothy. Doctor Peter Woods was still on duty when he arrived, and he told Timothy the same bleak prognosis, after which they entered the ward occupied solely by his wife. To the doctor, he was kindness personified, but to Timothy it was all an act, and he found himself wishing it was all over. For his wife, although no one could see it, it was an ordeal, especially since she did not want him near her. Eventually, Doctor Woods led him away to his office where they could talk more privately.

“Tell me doctor, if things are as bad as you say, is there any point in keeping my wife alive? Surely, it would be far kinder to switch everything off now?” Timothy sat back in his chair whilst he waited for the doctor’s reply.

Peter Woods was taken aback by the question, and although he knew the decision would have to be made at some time, he was shocked that Timothy had broached the question so soon. Giving the man the benefit of the doubt, and assuming he was tired after his long journey, he answered, “Sometimes miracles do happen, and it’s early days yet. Besides, as far as we can ascertain, your wife isn’t in too much pain, or discomfort, because she is almost completely paralysed. Consequently, she is devoid of feeling in all her limbs. Rest assured, we’ll monitor the situation carefully and review everything on a daily basis. Obviously, we’ll keep you informed of any developments.

This reply didn’t satisfy Timothy and he put his cards straight on the table saying, “It’s all very well for you to say that doctor, but how do you know that she isn’t suffering when she can’t communicate? Also, I think you should consider my feelings in this matter. How do you think I feel coming in here, seeing my wife in this state? I’m telling you straight, I don’t like it, and I won’t allow this state of affairs to continue for too long. If there’s no improvement soon, I’ll be asking you to remove any support systems that are being used to keep her alive. Do you understand?”

Doctor Woods had now taken a firm dislike to Timothy. There and then, he decided and resolved that he would do his utmost for his charge.

Irene had finally arrived home, but the day was far from over. First of all, she telephoned Peter Ravenscroft to see if he had made any progress with Royston Chambers and the police involvement. She was surprised to learn from him, following his own visit to Stafford prison, that Chambers was now prepared to sit it out and take his chance, rather than risk any sentence increase on charges of perjury. What Chambers had not told his lawyer was that he had received a cell visit from one of his fellow inmates, who told him, in no uncertain manner, he would never walk out of prison if he tried to make trouble for a certain detective.

Next she telephoned Michael Mulrooney, her able defence solicitor. When he answered, Irene said she had a job for him, and she proceeded to outline the most recent developments in the case, including the latest admission from Chambers. Irene wanted Michael’s help locating friends and associates of Angela Clarkson and Bridget Riley in order to seek additional information about the watch. She also wanted to ascertain whether the police, or Detective Sergeant West in particular, had tried to put pressure upon them in order to obtain evidence. She knew it was a long shot, but she reasoned that, if this had happened, perhaps one of the girls would talk about it. Given the right result, this could provide the ammunition to shoot down Bridget Riley when the time came.

Michael readily agreed to assist and promised to set about it straight away. Before the conversation ended, he enquired if she had heard the news about Paula Harris suffering a massive stroke whilst visiting the offices of the Manchester and District Children’s Adoption Society. Irene replied that she hadn’t heard the news, and asked Michael why he thought it relevant. She wasn’t prepared for the reply. It was perhaps as well she was sitting down as he explained that Paula Harris, the lady in question, was the wife of Timothy Harris, the errant MP who had been the subject of so much rumour and speculation recently.

“Christ, Michael,” Irene exclaimed, “This is a whole new ball game now. Something tells me Paula Harris is the real mother of Harry Thompson. Please don’t quote me on this yet until I have it confirmed, and even if it does prove true we should still keep this strictly to ourselves, or until such time as we are in court winning our case.”

Irene’s brain was in overdrive as she thoughtfully added, “One more thing Michael, I think I might even be way ahead of you on this one. As you know, before these cases came to court, all kinds of rumours were circulating that Timothy Harris and the Merseyside police had engineered a cover up in the Clarkson case. In fact, I think it went a little further than that, as I’m almost sure they said a man, not named, had been exonerated from their enquiries. I’ll bet you a case of vintage champagne that the person exonerated was none other than Timothy Harris. The picture is beginning to get a lot clearer now, because, if they had named him, it would have probably come out that he was one of her customers, and in all probability he was her client and that he gave her the watch. Now then, Michael, prepare yourself for the big one. I’ll bet you another case of champagne that Timothy Harris bought Angela Clarkson that watch. You see, it all fits. It has to be him, and although it doesn’t prove that he had anything to do with her death, it certainly puts him right in the frame. She could feel the excitement mounting within her as she continued, “Assume Harris was her last client, also assume that he doesn’t kill her. Then the police are looking for a killer and, without the watch, they have no leads. Even when the watch is found, they have nothing on Harry, until that prostitute comes along to say that the watch is Clarkson’s. Michael, I’m telling you now, it stinks. Remember, at the time the watchmakers themselves could supply proof of purchase of all the watches sold then with the exception of one, and even in that case they know that it was not purchased anywhere in the north of England.

“I think we’ll have to tread very carefully on this now, and concentrate on getting all the information in before we make any moves at all. When we do Michael, boy, will the shit hit the fan, because there’s another aspect to this which disturbs me now more than ever. If what we have just discussed is subsequently proved to be true, then Timothy Harris perjured himself in his recent libel action. See what you can dig out from Clarkson’s associates, and be very careful, Michael, because something like this could turn out very nasty. As soon as you get something give me a ring, and we’ll meet for a chat somewhere. Ok?”

Michael confirmed his agreement, and replaced the telephone having already decided that tonight he would start to look for information.

Later that evening, Michael could be observed walking along Rodney Street in Liverpool. He had taken the precaution of notifying a contact within the Merseyside Police that he was going to be in the area, and the exact nature of his business. He was well aware that the police had tightened up considerably on kerb crawlers, and their like but tonight there didn’t seem anything to worry about as there were no girls out. He walked straight on to the “Hookers”. He spotted Bridget immediately, then he saw Theresa standing alone at the bar. He edged his way to the bar, and obtained a spot next to her. As the barman placed her order on the bar he swiftly placed a ten pound note on the counter saying, “Let me get those Theresa,” and whilst he waited for his change he whispered, “can we talk somewhere quiet? I need some information, and I am quite willing to pay for your time.” As the barman returned with his change, he collected it and slipped one of his business cards to her saying, “I’ll wait here, and I’ll have a drink while you think about it.”

He didn’t have time to finish his drink before she was back at the bar saying, “Let’s take a quick walk and I will see if I can help you, but it’ll cost you. Twenty-five,” she said smiling at him, “that alright?” He nodded in reply, and they left the bar. Once outside he told her, “I’m the solicitor who represented Harry Thompson, the man who was convicted of the murder of your colleague Angela Clarkson. We all know that your friend gave evidence, and I’m wondering if your friend was told what to say by the police. We also know the confession produced in court was false, and, without these two pieces of evidence, there is no case against our client. Now I’m sure you want to punish the guilty person, but I’m equally certain you don’t wish to see an innocent man punished for a crime he did not commit. I am now asking you to tell me, did you ever see your friend Angela Clarkson wearing that watch? Or did she ever tell you that she had been given a watch, or even bought a watch of that description, before she died?”

Theresa became very nervous before answering, “I don’t know anything about that. You will have to ask Bridget about that. After all, she was the one who gave the evidence why don’t you ask her? Leave me out of it; I don’t want to get involved.”

Michael tried a different approach, “Look I am not here to cause trouble for Bridget, but if I can find evidence that she was forced into giving false evidence by the police, she will have nothing to be afraid of. But first, before I can do that, I have to know if the police tried to get anybody else to testify besides Bridget, plus, I need to know whether, or not, you saw Angela with the watch.”