‘That is true, my lord, yes.’
‘Very well. And you found no other evidence whatsoever in his house or on his clothing to substantiate this charge. That’s correct too, isn’t it?’
‘That’s true, my lord.’
‘Very well. That’s all I have to ask.’
She folded her gown about her and sat down. And as he made his way to the back of the court she watched him with a slight enigmatic smile on her face. A smile signifying what, Terry wondered. Irony? Mockery? Self-satisfaction?
Bitch.
Chapter Ten
The final prosecution witness was a man called Keith Somers. His testimony was straightforward and damning. He knew Gary Harker, and he had seen him in Albert Street just after one a.m. on the night of the rape. Gary had been wearing black jeans and a black shirt, and had even acknowledged him with a wave.
The significance of this was that Albert Street ran parallel to Thorpe Street, where Sharon Gilbert lived. The houses had small back gardens with low fences which backed onto each other. The rapist could easily have left Sharon’s house, climbed the fence and come out in Albert Street.
From Sharon’s phone bill, Lloyd-Davies demonstrated that she had phoned her friend Mary at 1.08 a.m., and the police at 1.22 a.m. Somers had seen Gary at about 1.05. This, Lloyd-Davies insisted, put Gary in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.
As Sarah stood up to cross-examine she felt her pager tremble in her pocket. Looking down she saw her husband’s work number. What did he want — more problems with Emily? Nothing she could do now, anyway.
Somers was a good, credible witness. She tried to cast doubt on the time he had seen Gary, but he would have none of it. He had been at a friend’s house watching a film which ended at 12.50 a.m. He’d left immediately: no lingering conversations, no cups of coffee. He’d had a few beers but he wasn’t drunk. He’d seen Gary’s face clearly under a streetlight. Sarah tried to turn this, at least, to her advantage.
‘You could see all of his head, could you?’
‘Yes. He was bare-headed.’
‘So he wasn’t wearing a balaclava hood?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see any sign of a hood — something in his hand, a bulge in his pocket, perhaps?’
‘No. No, I can’t say I did.’
‘I see. Well, thank you very much.’ She sat down. It was the best she could do — Gary admitted being in the area that night, after all. Sarah remembered the pager again. What did Bob want? She felt suddenly tired, unaccountably low after the adrenalin rush of the early afternoon.
Julian Lloyd-Davies said: ‘That completes the case for the prosecution, my lord.’
‘Very well.’ The judge looked inquiringly at Sarah, who stood up. ‘My lord, I would like to address the court on a point of law.’
‘I see. In that case, members of the jury, I must ask you to retire for a short time.’
As the jury filed out of court the barristers digested the phrase a short time. Lloyd-Davies knew very well what Sarah was about to say, and no doubt regarded it as a forlorn hope. But she was determined to give it a try.
‘Before I present the case for the defence, I would like to invite your lordship to dismiss the case as being unsafe to put before a jury. As your lordship will have seen, the prosecution have completely failed to produce any evidence which puts my client at the scene of the crime. They have no forensic evidence at all. My client has consistently protested his innocence, and the only evidence against him is that of identification. The evidence of the victim’s child has been discounted, and that of the victim herself is highly suspect and tainted by her own extreme animosity towards my client, whose face she never saw. In view of all these points it seems to me that the only proper course for your lordship is to dismiss the case now rather than running the risk of an unsafe conviction before a jury.’
Julian Lloyd-Davies stood to reply but the judge waved him away.
‘No, Mr Lloyd-Davies, it won’t be necessary. I hear what you say, Mrs Newby, and I agree with you that there are a number of difficulties with the identification evidence, and the child’s evidence has been excluded. But the fact remains that Ms Gilbert was very well acquainted with the defendant, and can be presumed able to recognise his voice, even from behind a mask. The last witness puts your client in the area at precisely the time the rape was committed. Even if the Crown have not been able to produce the watch, its existence does give your client a motive, in addition to the intention to rape, for entering the house, and its theft suggests that the intruder knew the layout of the bedroom. So in view of all these points I am satisfied that the Crown have produced a case to answer.’
Sarah bowed. ‘As your lordship wishes.’ It was no more than she had expected. But any appeal court would know that she had tried three times to get this case thrown out. The judge’s decision would have to be proven right in all three instances; no one could say she had not tried.
‘So, Mrs Newby. The jury are chafing at the bit. Shall we begin?’
Sarah sighed. ‘Very well, my lord.’ The jurors filed morosely back into their seats, looking far less eager than the judge had suggested, and she called Graham Dewar.
Dewar was a bricklayer who had worked with Gary for a company called MacFarlane’s. When Lucy had first discovered him Sarah had been delighted. Whatever else, he would embarrass the police. He was a respectable, red-faced man, uncomfortable in his shiny blue suit.
‘Mr Dewar, when you worked with Gary Harker, did you know a man called Sean?’
‘I did, yes.’.
‘Did you know his surname?’
‘Never did, no. Always called him Sean, that’s all.’
‘Was he friendly with Gary?’
‘Quite friendly, yes, I suppose. I think they met in prison, like.’
That’s just what I didn’t need, Sarah thought. Quickly, she moved on.
‘What sort of man was he?’
Dewar considered. ‘Well, a sort of fitness fanatic, I suppose. Did a lot of training. Not very chatty. I didn’t know him right well, like. He were there for two or three weeks and then gone.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘No. We get lots like him. Work for a bit then go back on t’dole. Happens all’t time.’
‘When did he leave?’
‘Well, I can’t say for definite — but it were about same time as Gary got arrested. Middle of October, maybe. Around then.’
‘I see.’ Sarah glanced at the jury. ‘One last question, then, Mr Dewar. Did the police ever come to your building site, to ask you or your mates if this man existed?’
Dewar shook his head. ‘No. Definitely not. If they’d come I’d have told them like, but nobody ever asked before your solicitor did.’ He indicated Lucy, sitting behind Sarah.
‘Thank you, Mr Dewar. Stay there, please.’ Sarah glanced at Terry in the well of the court, and sat down. Lloyd-Davies, perhaps as a sign of contempt, had asked his junior, James Morris, to cross-examine. The young man stood up eagerly, and began in a well-educated southern voice. ‘That’s all a pack of lies, Mr Dewar, isn’t it?’
Dewar took his time answering, examining the young lawyer curiously, as though he had never seen anything quite like him before and was curious how he was put together. ‘No, young man, it isn’t bloody lies. It’s the truth, like I swore to tell on yon book.’
James Morris flushed. ‘Well, we’ll see what the jury think, shall we? You’re a close friend of Gary Harker, aren’t you?’
‘No, not particularly.’
Sarah glanced at Lloyd-Davies, to see how he was taking his protege’s performance.
‘Well, you came here to testify on his behalf.’
‘Don’t make me his friend, does it? As a matter of fact I don’t like the feller much.’
‘But … if you don’t like him, why have you come?’