Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) (6 page)

Cat could feel her anger rising.

Is this arsehole suggesting that I was drunk and encouraged that bastard to rape me
?

‘I can handle myself,’ she said evenly.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I still have all my wits about me when I’ve had a drink. It’s not a crime for a woman to drink alcohol y’know.’

‘Was going out to drink a regular occurrence for you then, Miss Jurdentaag?’

‘No.’

‘I have it on good authority that you and your colleagues went out drinking every month,’ he said consulting the same bit of paper, which was a witness statement from a girl who had been out on the same night. ‘The first Friday after payday one of your colleagues has claimed. Is this not true?’

‘Once a month is not regular.’

‘Is it not? I see my dentist for a
regular
check-up every six months. I would suggest that twelve times a year is more than regular, Miss Jurdentaag.’

The inquisition continued until Judge Adams called it a day at five p.m. He advised the court that they would reconvene at half past nine the following morning. The questions Charleston had thrown at Cat were there to suggest to the jury that her claims of being raped were not made on sound judgement. Cat hated the fact that she was being painted to be the villain of the piece. Charleston was suggesting that she was drunk and encouraged Green to have sex with her. It riled her.

‘You need to keep your cool, y’know,’ Sharon said as they left the court through a private exit at the rear of the building. ‘Don’t let the barrister get to you. Remember, he’s only doing his job: he is there to try and help his client avoid a conviction. Of course he is going to try and make it look like your fault.’

‘It’s not right!’

‘Cat, I know it’s not right, but unfortunately it’s the world we live in. We might have the vote, but in the eyes of the law, we are still not seen in the same light as men. Maybe one day that will all change.’

‘Here’s hoping.’

‘You need to put today behind you and try not to think about it. The jury will see through Charleston’s bluster.’

‘You really think so?’

Sharon nodded, not quite sure she could lie out loud.

WEDNESDAY

Cat’s cross examination lasted until late afternoon on day two of the trial. Sharon had told her she would be allowed to sit in on the rest of the trial if she wanted to, but strongly encouraged Cat to stay at home.

‘I want to see that bastard get what he deserves,’ Cat had said.

As they arrived at the court, there was still a strong media presence outside the front doors of the building, although it was smaller than the first day. Cat and Sharon pushed their way through without uttering a word. Cat knew that today was the biggest day of the trial: Collinghurst was going to attempt to prove that Nathan Green was guilty of murdering Patricia Tropaz.

Judge Adams settled everyone down by half past nine and invited Collinghurst to call her first witness. The key to proving that Green had murdered Patricia Tropaz was to present the evidence in such a way that any attempt to challenge it by the defence team would be minimal. Elizabeth Collinghurst QC was an experienced criminal prosecutor and when she had been made aware of the crimes Green was accused of, she had pushed to be made lead on the case.

She was a stout feminist, and had been since she was fifteen and a boy in her class had attempted to take advantage of her naivety. She had been fortunate, in that her parents had returned home early from the theatre, and walked in on him trying to pin her down. Elizabeth’s father had kicked him out of the house and threatened to do far worse if he ever came sniffing around the doorstep again. The boy had learned his lesson and never troubled Elizabeth again. Her father had been a greengrocer but he had had such high hopes for his daughter. He had told her the same night that it was important for her to be strong-minded if she wanted to be successful in a man’s world. A teacher at school had slipped her a copy of Betty Friedan’s
The Feminine Mystique
and Germaine Greer’s
The Female Eunuch
, and it had opened her eyes to the way women were generally viewed in society. It had given her all the motivation she needed to succeed at school and earn her place at Cambridge University. From there she had secured a place at one of London’s top firms, even though it had taken her two years longer than some of her male colleagues to obtain her Queen’s Counsel membership.

Collinghurst had worked hard to be where she was and as her fortieth birthday rapidly approached, she hoped that people would remember her for the crusading way she sought to deal with sex offenders such as Nathan Green. Inside, she wanted to see Green punished just as much as Cat Jurdentaag did, but she had to hide this deep-rooted desire from the court.

Collinghurst called the young police officer who had been first to arrive at the scene of Patricia Tropaz’s murder. The police had been called in because Patricia Tropaz had missed work, and this had been unlike her. Friends had knocked on her door and tried to phone but there had been no response. Eventually a neighbour had used a spare key to enter the property and had found her dead body in a pool of blood on the living room carpet. Police Constable Barnes had quickly sealed off the scene when he had arrived and the forensics team had then processed the scene. Barnes explained to the court that bruising around the victim’s neck suggested that she had been strangled. He added that the nature of the cuts and scratches on her body suggested that she had sustained defensive wounds as she had fought with her attacker.

Charleston asked what other evidence of a fight there had been. Barnes confirmed that the victim’s hands had been cleaned, presumably by the killer, as there was no skin or blood found under the victim’s fingernails. Collinghurst was pleased that this question had been raised by the defence team as she hoped to prove later that Green was very experienced with taking care of his own hands and, as such, would have had the necessary experience to clean the victim’s hands so well. Barnes also advised that Miss Tropaz’s hands had been bound above her head by gaffer tape.

Collinghurst continued to question the young officer about his movements on the day, whether all visitors to the scene had been carefully logged in and out and whether anybody had appeared on scene who’d had no reason to be there. Barnes answered each of the questions with ease and Charleston was then invited to cross examine him.

‘Who discovered the supposed bloody thumb print on the bathroom tap?’ Charleston asked.

‘That was one of the Forensics team,’ Barnes replied confidently.

‘When you arrived at the scene, Constable Barnes, did you undertake any cursory examination of the property?’

‘I briefly scanned the property for any sign of life, in case the intruder was still present, but the place was empty.’

‘I see. Did you look in the victim’s bathroom during this cursory glance?’

‘I poked my head around the door, but that was all.’

‘And at what point did you look in the bathroom?’

‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘Apologies,’ said Charleston. ‘Let me rephrase: can you tell the court the manner in which you undertook your search of the property. Which rooms did you look in and when?’

‘I see. We opened the door into a small hallway, which led to the living room and bathroom. There was a smell coming from the living room and it was there that we found the body.’

‘Who is ‘we’?’

‘Police Constable Taylor and of course Mrs Bascombe; she was Miss Tropaz’s neighbour.’

‘The same neighbour who had discovered the body?’

‘That’s right, yes.’

‘I see, I see. So she entered the property with you?’

‘No. Mrs Bascombe opened the door of the flat for us but then we asked her to remain outside while my partner and I entered the living room.’

‘Just clarify for me, Constable Barnes, was this neighbour standing in the hallway or outside the property?’

Barnes thought for a second, not certain, but answered, ‘Outside.’

‘And was the door left open or was it closed?’

‘Open.’

‘Please continue Constable Barnes; where did you go next.’

‘My partner remained with the body while I entered the first bedroom, which was attached to the lounge and then headed to the kitchen. When they were both clear, I headed for the bathroom to check that it was also empty.’

‘And how long do you think this would have taken?’

‘How long? I’m not sure. Twenty seconds maybe? Maybe thirty seconds. It was certainly under a minute.’

‘And all this time, your colleague was standing by the body?’

‘That’s correct. It’s protocol that the body and any evidence are secured as quickly as possible.’

‘I know it is, Constable Barnes, but thank you for confirming it to the court. Where was Mrs Bascombe during this time?’

‘I told you, she was standing outside the property.’

‘That’s right, you did say that. Mrs Bascombe, the same neighbour who had discovered the body and called the police was standing outside the property with the front door open and probably three metres at most from the bathroom where the blood thumb print was located.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Did your partner have her eyes on Mrs Bascombe the whole time that you were searching the bedroom and kitchen?’

‘No…well, I don’t…I’m not sure. You’d have to ask her that.’

‘Don’t worry Constable Barnes, I will do in due course. I have one more question for you, please: in your experience is it possible that while your partner was guarding the victim and you were out of sight for twenty to thirty seconds that somebody could have entered the bathroom and interfered with the apparatus in there?’

Barnes paused.

‘Would you like me to repeat the questions, Constable Barnes?’

He remained silent and then looked apologetically over at Collinghurst and Cat Jurdentaag. He then returned his gaze to Charleston as he answered, ‘Yes, it is possible.’ He was about to add that this had not happened and that he or his partner would have heard or noticed if someone entered the bathroom, but Charleston was already sitting down when he uttered, ‘No further questions.’

Collinghurst’s heart sank. She knew the defence had just played their first card: they had called into question the legitimacy of the thumb print found at the scene.

Judge Adams declared it was time to break for lunch and everyone shuffled from the court, leaving Cat and Elizabeth alone.

‘That wasn’t good, was it?’ Cat eventually offered.

Elizabeth turned, startled by the voice. ‘It wasn’t my finest moment,’ she admitted.

‘Do you think it will affect the jury’s decision?’

‘That depends on how well I can prove that
he
didn’t have an alibi for his whereabouts at the suspected time of death. Don’t worry, there is still a long way to go.’

‘How does someone do something like that?’

‘What? Murder?’

‘No, I mean the other barrister. How can he sleep at night, knowing he is defending someone who is guilty of such despicable crimes?’

‘Oh Charleston’s not all that bad. He is a smarmy trickster who knows how to pick holes in evidence and ask difficult questions, but he has morals. He would only take on the case if he believed that correct protocol had not been adequately followed, and if that is the case, then his client won’t have received a fair trial and therefore is right to be acquitted. It’s a strange system.’

‘You’re telling me!’

‘You did well yesterday.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes I do. I know he was attempting to discredit your story but I think you gave an honest enough account of what happened. It just hinges on me convincing the jury that he is responsible for the three crimes.’

‘The police reckon he is guilty of more than just these three. What do you think?’

‘Well, if he was capable of doing what he is accused of, then I’m sure he will have attempted to do it earlier. People like him practise the art of what they do, until they achieve the satisfaction they are searching for, no matter how gratuitous.’

‘Is that why you took this case?’

‘Sort of. Look, I need to do some preparation for this afternoon, would it be okay if you left the court now?’

Cat nodded her understanding and made her way back to the small canteen outside the room. She found Sharon at a small table with two Styrofoam cups of tea.

‘You look like you need this,’ Sharon said as Cat took the seat next to her.

THURSDAY

Judge Thomas Adams took a long slurp from the mug of coffee his wife had so kindly left for him on the breakfast bar, while he had been in the shower. He had not slept well. The trial he was serving on
Crown vs. Green
had lasted nine days so far, but now the end was very much in sight. The jury had been sent out, to deliberate all the evidence they had seen and heard, at eleven a.m. the previous morning and the Clerk of the Court had indicated at four forty-five the same day that a verdict had been reached on the main charge, that of the murder of Patricia Tropaz. The fact that verdicts had not been confirmed on the other two assault charges, suggested to Adams that the first outcome was likely to be guilty as the additional charges were made on the assumption of the first.

Whilst there was no scientific evidence to confirm Adams’ suspicions, a quick verdict, in his experience, often meant a guilty verdict. But he knew there was always a first time for him to be wrong. The case had affected him deeply, more so than any other he had ever presided over, yet he couldn’t quite decide why. He had heard a handful of sexual assault cases before and this was certainly not the first murder trial he had witnessed in his twenty years on the bench, but there was just
something
about this case.

‘Everything okay, dear?’ asked his wife over his shoulder when she saw how pensive he looked.

He forced a reassuring smile, ‘Just work, that’s all.’

The response seemed to pacify her as she wandered out to the garden to attack some weeds in a flower bed. Adams quickly glanced through the main headlines of the newspaper that had been delivered earlier but his mind kept returning back to Nathan Green and the photographic evidence provided by the police. Some of the accounts of what had happened to each of the three victims made his blood boil, and although he was required to remain impartial, he knew if he was responsible for the verdict, Green would already have been found guilty.

Adams finished dressing and made the short drive to Rickmansworth Underground Station and then caught the first train to Central London. He arrived at the Old Bailey at eight forty-five and entered his office to review the other impending cases that he could preside over. A little before twelve p.m. a knock on the door was followed by a message that the jury had now reached a verdict on all three charges. Adams wondered whether he should delay resuming court until after lunch but thought better of it and began to put on his robes. By twelve twenty, everyone was seated back in the courtroom and the foreman of the jury was asked to stand and read out the verdicts. There was a resounding cheer when the announcement was made: guilty on all three counts.

Unanimously.

Adams watched the defendant as the words were read out, looking for any kind of emotional response from him. He saw Green’s shoulders shrink slightly, and the smirk that he had worn since the first day was now gone, but there was little else to confirm Green had heard what had been said.

Adams ordered Green be taken back to the holding cells beneath the court until sentencing and once he was gone, he turned to the jury and thanked them sincerely for their careful deliberation, and urged them to consider themselves heroes for taking one more killer and rapist off the streets. Once the jury were dismissed, he declared that they would break for lunch and that sentencing would be later that afternoon.

Adams returned to his office and, opening his briefcase, he found a small paper bag containing a bacon and stilton roll. His wife had scrawled a handwritten note on the top corner of the bag:
I know you’ll do the right thing, all my love!

He smiled as he read the message. He knew he was lucky to have her.

He picked up his fountain pen and began to write what would become his sentencing speech.

*

‘It always frustrates me,’ Adams began, when the court resumed, ‘when someone like you comes before me, Mr Green. Clearly you have come from a good background: your father and brother are present today in the courtroom to lend their support despite your despicable crimes. You have come from a background of privilege, afforded the opportunities that others in the country are not entitled to, and what have you done with it? Squandered it by recklessly breaking the law. You could have been anything you wanted to be, achieved a lifestyle that most would envy, and yet you chose to wilfully turn your back on the chances afforded you in order to pursue a perverse and painful path that would ultimately destroy the lives of the three victims in this case.’

Adams paused to look into the eyes of Green.

‘Your actions in nineteen ninety two were truly horrendous. What drove you to such deplorable deeds is simply beyond me and I fail to understand why you continue to show no remorse for what you have done. The family of Patricia Tropaz will never again be able to watch their daughter, sister and auntie laugh, sing or dance. You are the reason for that. They will now begin to grieve properly but I would confidently suspect that each of them would give anything just to have her back with them once more

‘Sarah Hanridge has been so deeply traumatised by the brutal assault you conducted on her that she could not even bring herself to set foot in the same room as you, instead reliving and relaying what happened on that terrible day to a group of strangers so that her words could be heard in this trial. She was a very promising doctor by all accounts but has been forced to turn her back on that vocation, all so that you could satisfy your twisted sexual fantasies. You should understand and consider the cost of your own gratification.

‘Cat Jurdentaag has shown immense bravery to stand before you and relive what you did to her. She told with pained resonance how you hand-picked her as a victim and refused to hear her pleas for mercy before you beat, slashed and raped her. She has shown incredible strength to be here but I am sure that her psychological scars are still very fresh and will remain so for some considerable time, if they ever heal. You picked on her like the merciless bully that you are and for that reason I believe that the sentence you receive for your horrid crimes should be suitably severe to adequately represent what you have done.

You have today been found guilty of murder in the first degree as well as three vicious sexual assaults. I will pass sentence for the crime of murder first. For that I do not believe that anything short of a life sentence will suffice. For the three sexual assaults, because of the degradation each victim was forced to endure, I believe that fifteen years a piece is fitting, with the latter three sentences to run concurrently. You will spend the next forty years in prison for your crimes, Mr Green, with no chance of parole until at least thirty years have been served. Please take him down!’

Adams watched as Green was led away and then looked over to where Cat Jurdentaag had sat for most of the trial. He could see a tear rolling down her cheek, and he imparted a smile and small nod of the head in her direction to indicate he meant every word he had said.

*

‘Are you ready for this?’ Sharon asked Cat as they walked out of the courtroom and sat down in the small canteen area, where they had rested so many times in the past fortnight. Cat knew Sharon was referring to the gathered journalists and photographers, who seemed to have doubled in number since the verdict had been delivered.

‘Do I have to speak to them?’

‘No, not at all,’ said Sharon, rubbing her hand reassuringly. ‘I’m sure Ms Collinghurst and Mr Charleston have probably already shared their thoughts on the verdict, and if they haven’t they will soon enough. Barristers love the limelight, that’s why they do so well in the courtroom. If you don’t feel like talking, you don’t have to. We can exit out the back again if you prefer, or we can hang about a bit longer until the throng has died down. It’s up to you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Cat, conscious that, with the case now over, Sharon was no longer responsible for her well-being. ‘Were you surprised by the sentence?’

Sharon considered the question for a moment before smiling, ‘I think we had a good judge on our side.’

‘I was surprised by his damning condemnation of
him
. I didn’t realise he could be so…blunt.’

Sharon smiled again, ‘As I said, I think we had a good one.’

‘If I do decide to…speak to
them
, what am I allowed to say or not say?’

‘I’m probably not the best person to ask…we have a media-relations contact I can put you in touch with…from my understanding you are free to say whatever you want from this point…within reason, that is. They probably wouldn’t print anything that couldn’t be substantiated…’

‘And if I were to…sell my story?’

Sharon smiled conspiratorially, ‘I can’t really comment on that, but,’ she added, glancing around to check that nobody was listening, ‘after what that bastard put you through, you should try and get every penny you can.’

Cat was relieved that Sharon hadn’t admonished her consideration. She had yet to decide whether she would give any interviews but she definitely wanted a holiday: a chance to escape the madness. Selling her story to the highest tabloid bidder could cover the cost of such a trip.

‘I think I’ll take the back exit again, if that’s okay? I’ll catch a taxi home or something.’

‘Don’t be silly, Cat. My car is parked around the corner; I’ll give you a lift home. It’s no bother.’

Cat thanked Sharon and the two women headed out to start the rest of their lives.