As the court clerk switched off the tape, Lloyd-Davies turned to Terry Bateson in the witness box. ‘Now, officer, I have a few questions about that interview.’
‘Very well.’ Terry glanced at Sarah, who sat watching him intently. There was nothing flirtatious or friendly about her eyes. They were as cold as those of a lizard watching a fly.
‘Did you look for this man Sean — Murphy, or Mulligan, or Moriarty?’ Lloyd-Davies was practised in the use of sarcasm and it oozed from him now. ‘The one Mr Harker claims to have spent the evening with?’
‘Yes, sir, we did. Without result.’
‘I see. Well, were you able to find these two prostitutes that he claims to have met?’
‘No, sir. We had no name or address, no real description …’
‘So what is your opinion of Gary Harker’s alibi, as I suppose we must call it?’
‘I think it’s a pack of lies, sir.’
‘Thank you. Now, in the interview you repeatedly told the accused that he had been recognised by Ms Gilbert. How did he appear to react to that?’
‘Well, I think you can hear it on the tape, sir. He was really surprised and upset. But he wasn’t upset when I told him she’d been raped, or even that it had happened in front of her kids. That didn’t seem to worry him much. What really got to him was that she claimed to have recognised him. He went white when I said that. He couldn’t speak.’
Lloyd-Davies stood silent for a while after Terry had finished speaking, pretending to think, while Terry’s last words echoed in the jury’s minds. The silence continued until judge Gray raised a quizzical eyebrow and Lloyd-Davies reluctantly sat down.
‘Thank you, Inspector, wait there, please.’
Sarah stood up. She looked across the court at Terry Bateson. No flicker of recognition passed between them. The easy conversation of a hour ago was forgotten. They were strangers. As she asked her first question, the hair rose along the back of his neck.
‘Detective Inspector, you lied to Mr Harker, didn’t you?’
For a long telling moment Terry didn’t answer. ‘I … don’t understand you.’
‘Let me help you then. Do you recall these words: “We know you were there because she recognised you. She saw your face.” You said that, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it true?’
‘Ms Gilbert recognised Gary Harker, yes. That’s why we arrested him.’
‘Was it true that she saw his face?’
‘No.’
‘So you lied to Mr Harker, didn’t you?’
Terry recovered himself slightly, and addressed his reply to the judge as the police were trained to do. It was a subtle way of insulting defence counsel, making them seem unimportant in the eyes of the jury. ‘She didn’t actually say she saw his face, my lord, that’s true, but she stated very clearly that she recognised her assailant as Gary Harker, and the reason I …’
‘I didn’t ask you why you lied, Detective Inspector, I asked you if you lied. And the answer is yes, isn’t it?’
The judge leaned forward protectively. ‘Nevertheless, I think it might help the jury if the Detective Inspector were allowed to give his reasons, Mrs Newby. Inspector?’
Thank God for judges, Terry thought. ‘The reason was simple, my lord. I wanted to see what his reaction would be if he thought he’d been recognised. And his reaction was quite clear. He was silent, as you could hear on the tape, and he went very white. That convinced me that he was guilty.’
Sarah glanced at the judge. It seemed he had finished, for the present at least. Once again she had the electrifying feeling that all eyes were on her. Mostly hating her, at this moment.
‘I see. What would you say, Detective Inspector, if I told this court that at lunchtime you put your hand up my skirt and indecently assaulted me?’
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the court. Someone in the public gallery began to giggle helplessly. Terry opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
Before he could recover Sarah went on, smoothly: ‘I think the jury can see exactly what you would say. Your face has gone white and you are lost for words. Well, let me reassure the jury straight away that that was a hypothetical question. The Detective Inspector did not assault me, members of the jury. But even though he knows the suggestion is untrue he is shocked and lost for words, as you see.’
A young jurywoman laughed and her neighbour grinned. The other expressions ranged from delight through dismay to disgust. She had their undivided attention, at least.
But it was not a line of attack she had planned — where did she go from here? When you’ve made your point, move on. In a quiet, reasonable voice she asked:
‘Detective Inspector, did you find a balaclava hood in Gary Harker’s flat?’
‘No, my lord, we didn’t.’ Terry’s voice was wooden, stolid, but underneath he was seething. What a bitch the woman was! Was she planning this in the pub? Her questions continued, swift and relentless.
‘Did you find the watch that Sharon Gilbert described?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘No hood, no watch. You did search the flat, I suppose?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘But you found no hood and no watch. Did you find any evidence at all in the flat, to suggest that Gary Harker had raped Sharon Gilbert?’
‘No, my lord. But …’
‘So your only justification for arresting Mr Harker at five o’clock that morning was Sharon Gilbert’s identification of a man whose face she had not seen. Is that correct?’
‘It … was the main reason for arresting him, yes.’
‘Was there any other reason?’
‘No.’
‘So it wasn’t just your main reason, it was your only reason, wasn’t it? Tell me, Detective Inspector, when you interviewed Ms Gilbert that night, was she sober?’
‘I … understood she had been drinking, my lord, but she didn’t seem particularly drunk. She was quite clear about what she was saying.’
‘Not particularly drunk, you say. Ms Gilbert has told this court that she drank five vodkas and a double gin at the party, plus a vodka just before you arrived. But she was not particularly drunk, in your view. Detective Inspector, how many units of alcohol can a woman drink without exceeding the drink drive limit?’
Terry hesitated. ‘Er … one or two, I believe. Maybe three, if it’s consumed with food.’
‘You believe? You’re a police inspector. Aren’t you sure?’
‘It varies with circumstances and body weight. Anyway I’m not a traffic policeman.’
‘Let me tell you then. An average woman is unfit to drive if she has consumed more than three units of alcohol in three hours. Sharon Gilbert had consumed at least eight units of alcohol. She was nearly three times over the driving limit. And yet you say she wasn’t drunk.’
‘I didn’t say she was fit to drive. I said she could identify the man who raped her.’
‘Even though that man was wearing a balaclava hood?’
‘Yes. He was a man she knew very well.’
‘Well, look, Detective Inspector, it seems to me that you’re asking this jury to believe one of two impossible things. Either you believe that a woman who has drunk six vodkas and a double gin is perfectly sober, or, if you accept that she wasn’t sober, you are saying that a woman who was hopelessly drunk can positively identify a man with a hood over his face. Which is it?’
There was smothered laughter from the jury box. It sounded like applause to Sarah, mockery to Terry, who sighed.
‘Neither of those. As I said, she wasn’t completely sober but she was clear enough in her mind to identify the man she believed had raped her. And she repeated those allegations the next day when she was perfectly sober. She has always been perfectly clear about that.’
‘I see. Well, is it also true, Detective Inspector, that Mr Harker denied the allegation of rape when you first arrested him, and has clearly and consistently repeated those denials every time you’ve asked him?’