‘You can’t say if the samples were a week old, two weeks old, a month old even?’
‘I’m afraid not, no.’
‘If you can’t say how old it is, you can’t say when the blood got onto the knife, can you?’
‘No.’
‘Or onto the shoes?’
‘No.’
‘Very well. So you have no way of saying that this blood got onto the shoe or the knife at the time of Jasmine’s death, have you?’
‘Well, I can’t say that, no.’ Laila Ferguson looked surprised at where the questions had led her. ‘I can only tell you definitely that the blood came from Jasmine Hurst. That’s all.’
‘Yes, I understand that,’ said Sarah patiently. ‘But as far as you’re concerned it’s possible that all of these blood stains could have got there as the result of an incident that occurred several hours before Jasmine’s death? Days earlier, even?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ Whether Laila Ferguson had anticipated the direction these questions were leading or not, she seemed unable to resist it.
‘A quite different incident, nothing to do with murder at all.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Very well.’ Sarah paused, to gather her thoughts and ensure that the jury were waiting for her next question, when it came. She had got as far as she could with this witness. If she were to build the basis for Simon’s defence later, the next few moments were crucial.
‘So if Simon Newby says, as he does, that this blood got onto the shoe and the knife when Miss Hurst cut her thumb in the kitchen, that is scientifically quite possible, isn’t it?’
‘I can’t say what happened,’ Laila Ferguson answered. ‘I wasn’t there.’
‘No, of course not. But what I mean is, there’s nothing in your scientific examination of the shoe and the knife and the blood to say that it isn’t a reasonable explanation, is there?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Even if this accident happened some hours or even days beforehand?’
‘True. There’s nothing to say it couldn’t have been like that.’
‘Very well. And given the very small, almost insignificant amounts of blood we’re talking about here, compared to the massive carnage at the murder scene, don’t you think that’s a more likely explanation, Ms Ferguson? A minor accident in the kitchen, producing a few drops of blood on a shoe, and a tiny stain on a knife?’
Phil Turner coughed, looking meaningfully at the judge. Sarah knew she was perilously close to asking the witness to speculate about things beyond her competence. But the important thing was to plant the idea in the jury’s minds.
Before the judge could react, Laila Ferguson answered. ‘I suppose it’s a theoretical possibility, yes.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sarah, and sat down. Wondering, with a small part of her mind, whether Will Churchill would be quite so entranced with the lovely young scientist now.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Every time she saw Will Churchill in court, Sarah experienced a fierce rush of hatred. It was not normally like this. In the past there had been a few police officers — like Terry Bateson — whom she liked, a majority whom she tolerated, and a few whom she despised. She had never hated one before. But then, no policeman had ever charged her son with murder before.
Churchill appeared to be enjoying the trial, patting his officers on the back, cracking jokes with Phil Turner, and trying to chat up the forensic scientist, Laila Ferguson.
When he saw Sarah watching, his laugh grew louder.
On the witness stand he explained why he had searched Simon’s house and what he had found there, and how he had arrested Simon in Scarborough two weeks later.
Phil Turner nodded. ‘When you arrested Mr Newby, did you caution him?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘So he was told, was he, that there was no need for him to say anything, but that anything he did say might be used in evidence?’
‘He was told that, yes.’
‘Did he appear to understand it?’
‘Yes. He was fully awake and I spoke the words of the caution slowly and clearly.’
‘Very well. And after he had been arrested and cautioned, did he in fact say anything?’
‘Yes. He said that he hadn’t killed Jasmine Hurst and that he hadn’t seen her for several weeks. He repeated those statements several times.’
Sarah glared at the judge. She had argued in chambers for this damaging evidence to be excluded. But Turner had played the tape of Simon’s interview, arguing that although Simon had retracted the statements he had made in the car, he had admitted making them. (‘But you did say it, didn’t you …’ ‘Yes, but …’) To Sarah’s disgust, judge Mookerjee had agreed with him.
‘Where was Simon Newby when he made these statements?’
‘In the police car on the way from Scarborough to York. With DC Easby and myself.’
‘How did you respond?’
‘I said he would be interviewed at the police station. That’s correct police procedure.’
Turner nodded approvingly. ‘Nonetheless, it is also correct procedure, is it not, to make a note of any comments an arrested person may make after caution. Did you make such a note?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘Would you read it to the court, please?’
In his flat estuary English Churchill read: ‘At 3.45 a.m. on Monday 31st May, DCI Churchill of York police, accompanied by DC Easby of York police and DS Conroy and DC Lane of Scarborough police, entered room 7 of Seaview Villas in Whitton Street, Scarborough … After being cautioned, Mr Newby stated that he had not killed Jasmine Hurst, and that he had not seen her for weeks. He repeated this statement several times.’
‘When you arrived at the police station, was Mr Newby given access to a lawyer?’
‘He was, yes. Mrs Lucy Parsons.’ Churchill eyed Lucy contemptuously.
‘Was Mr Newby cautioned again?’
‘He was, yes.’
Sarah shifted restlessly in her seat. In his slow, painstaking way Turner was walling Simon in. The more solidly he built his case, the harder it would be for her to tear it apart.
‘Did you show Mr Newby this note?’
‘I did. I asked him to sign it as a correct record of what he had said.’
‘And what was his response?’
‘He refused. At first he claimed he hadn’t said those things at all. Then when I challenged him, he agreed he had said them but wanted to change his story. He admitted that he had met Jasmine Hurst on the day she was murdered, after all.’
‘I see.’ Turner paused, letting the words resonate in the jurors’ minds. He was making Simon look like a panic-stricken liar, who made up his story as he went along. And it was about to get worse.
‘He changed his story after meeting Mrs Parsons, his solicitor, you say?’
‘That’s right, sir. Yes.’
‘I see.’ Turner gazed at Lucy, sitting stony faced behind Sarah. His look was thoughtful, one eyebrow slightly raised. A brief glance, followed by a long pause, while the jury stared at Lucy too. Thinking, no doubt, she told him to change his story.
You devious old bastard, Sarah thought. Once she might have admired his court craft; now icy fury flooded through her.
‘So what happened next?’
‘Mrs Parsons handed me a statement which Simon had written himself.’ Churchill read the statement aloud.‘I met Jasmine Hurst a year ago and became very fond of her. In October she came to live with me at 23 Bramham Street and she stayed until March, when she left me. She said she was tired of me and had a new boyfriend. His name is David Brodie and he lives with her at 8a Stillingfleet Road. I went there once to ask Jasmine to come back and live with me but she wouldn’t. I’ve met her a few times since then but only briefly. On Thursday 13th May I met her by the river and she came back to my house for a meal. I asked her to come back and live with me but she wouldn’t. We argued about this and then she left. When she left I was upset so I decided to go to Scarborough for a holiday, to try to get over her. I drove to Scarborough that night and didn’t see Jasmine again. I had no idea Jasmine was dead until the police arrested me this morning. I did not kill her and I don’t know how she died. Simon Newby.’