Chapter 16
He came back from the bathroom and slipped under the covers. Clarissa turned and they hugged each other. Anderson waited patiently for Clarissa to break away. His marriage had taught him not to be the first to slip out of an embrace. Now they were barely touching as he lay on his back waiting for the right moment to turn, switch off his table lamp and search for sleep. She spoke and, in a moment, he was wide-awake.
It was unusually tactful of her to wait for the right moment. Anderson had soon learnt that, as an independent woman, she had long since given up pandering to male egos. It had to be something unpleasant but nothing serious enough to row over. So, she had brought it to surface at a moment of special intimacy.
Anderson appreciated her timing. It was not too soon, which would spoil the exquisite pleasure that pervades a couple after sex and persuades them that they have merged and are now one. But it was not too late; reason had not yet resurfaced and shattered the illusion of oneness. He turned his head. She kept her eyes on the ceiling.
‘Will Mark go to prison for a long time?’ she asked.
He lent over and ran his fingers over her neck. It was still red and sensitive and even his light touch caused her to flinch. He wanted to show her that he understood that Mark’s release would be an imprisonment for her; a confinement defined by the man’s ability to reach her and harm her. But what could he say. ‘We’ve a meeting with the CPS tomorrow,’ he said.
She turned towards him. ‘CPS?’
‘Crown Prosecution Service,’ he said.
‘What’s the meeting for?” she asked.
Anderson took a deep breath. She hadn’t yet found the courage to step inside her own home. That was why they were in his flat, in his bed. What he had to say would not be pleasant. ‘It’s the CPS who decide whether to prosecute and, if so, what the charges would be.’
Clarissa raised herself on her elbow. He could see that his words had shocked her. Fear, he had seen its signs many times: the special whiteness of the skin, the glistening of sweat suddenly released and the fine quivering of muscles.
Her free hand clasped her neck. ‘Are you saying he might be set free?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘After trying to kill me and all those others.’
‘It’s the lack of evidence. I’ll do all I can but it’s still up to them.’
Clarissa slumped on to her back. ‘We both recognised him in the hospital and surely the Clayden girl won’t defend him now?’
‘You were sick and Mark was masked. They may not believe that either of us could identify him to the satisfaction of a jury.’
‘And Amanda?’
‘Mark says he was about to jilt her. A jury might believe she’s lying about the knife episode.’
‘Forensic evidence? There must be some of that to connect him to us and maybe some of the others as well.’
‘No, he destroyed everything that might have incriminated him. We’ve got no forensic evidence.’ Anderson wondered when the questions would stop. Each one when answered sent a tremor through his lover. Each answer made her clasp her neck. Then her left elbow slid away from her and she collapsed back.
‘There’s something else,’ she said.
Anderson waited.
‘My solicitor thinks I should sue the police.’ Anderson had no need to ask why.
‘I know it was not your decision, so I hope it doesn’t embarrass you.’
‘It would be better if you didn’t do it before Mark’s trial, if we ever do get him into court.’
Clarissa turned again. Anderson could see she was puzzled.
‘What difference would it make?’ she asked.
‘Kearney knew about us. He made the decision to send you home to avoid scandal. If we shovel dirt on to him, he might do the same to me. He might even decide not to back me in the case against Mark.’
‘So that’s the way it works,’ she said.
‘Yes, that’s the way it works. Mark already suspects that there’s something between us. It might come up at trial anyway. It wouldn’t help.’
‘And tomorrow?’
Anderson had thought about that. Kearney wouldn’t mention it; it wouldn’t help him. Fielding and Comben? Of course not and not only because of loyalty to him. They wanted Turney behind bars as much as he did. But where had the gossip stopped?
They had decided that three of them would make the case. Anderson as officer in charge, Kearney to ensure they knew he was fully behind his man and Fielding to present the American side of the case. The files they all carried were thick, too thick for Anderson’s comfort. His own contribution had been fulsome. It had been example of trying to cover up a lack of hard evidence with reams of circumstantial nonsense. Then Fielding had added to it. It might just work in court in front of a jury but Anderson knew that it wouldn’t work here.
Anderson admired Fielding’s judgement. She had thought about presentation, as he had, and was wearing a suit with a skirt, a jacket with wide power-shoulders and a discreet amount of jewellery and make-up. She had even phoned him to find out what colour suit he would be wearing. He had said grey; she was in dark blue. Kearney as the senior man had allowed himself a touch of frivolity: a bright tie. Anderson had a waistcoat to show solidity.
He wondered whether it was Kearney’s influence that had got them a second chance. He couldn’t believe that it was the public’s safety that had made the difference. They had been summoned to the CPS headquarters and it was the Director’s deputy who was sitting at the head of the table. Anderson had met him before but years ago, when the man did this sort of thing regularly before his promotions. Obviously, he felt this case was something special. Next to him were a man and a woman Anderson had never seen before. They were much younger. Clearly, it was their case and Anderson supposed they had rejected it.
Anderson noticed that apart from the thick files he had passed on to the CPS each of the three had a thinner file. Did it contain a distillation of his own overblown report or was it something else? Either way it didn’t look good.
The three of them sat together on one of the long sides of the table, Kearney nearest the Deputy Director, Anderson next and then Fielding. Opposite the two senior police officers sat the two younger prosecutors. There were introductions but no pleasantries. The weather was not mentioned and there were no polite enquiries about families or wives. Anderson knew that Kearney and Matteson had known each other for years. He even had the suspicion that they went to school together. Perhaps that was why they were allowed this audience. But whatever connection the two men had, was not revealed by their initial exchanges.
Matteson spoke first. ‘There are one or two matters I want to clear up first before we get down to the main agenda,’ he said.
A committeeman, the word came easily to Anderson’s mind.
‘Is this meeting to be minuted?’ asked Kearney.
The question seemed to surprise the prosecutors. The woman had a pencil and pad at the ready. Anderson could see a heading already in place.
‘As you can see,’ said Matteson, indicating with the upturned palm of his left hand the young woman introduced to them as Miss Joanna Smythe.
‘You won’t mind then if we do the same.’
Matteson’s nod was curt rather than affable. Fielding reached inside her handbag for a pen and pad. Anderson saw that Kearney might want to cover himself and the station should anything go wrong but that would be cold comfort to Clarissa. It was looking much worse. This whole thing could be a charade set up by Kearney to assuage his troops. He might know already what the decision was going to be.
Matteson continued. ‘I understand that Mrs Downing was released from protective custody the day before she was attacked. Was that her own choice?’
Anderson answered before Kearney. He wanted to show willing even if it was hopeless. If he tried to protect Kearney then he could expect the same from his superior. ‘Mrs Downing was very bored. She wanted to get home and back to work. She’s a writer.’
‘So she asked to be allowed to go home?’
There was no way to avoid it now and although Anderson was willing to continue, Kearney interrupted him.
‘I sent her home. I knew Simanovicz our suspect was in custody and I thought it was safe.’
‘But it wasn’t,’ said Matteson. ‘You know she might sue?’
Kearney didn’t know and Anderson had not thought to tell him.
‘No,’ said Kearney.
‘But I understand Detective Chief Inspector Anderson was in charge of the case. Why was it left to you?’ asked Matteson.
‘He could not be reached,’ said Kearney.
Matteson glanced at Anderson.
‘My home phone was out of order,’ he said.
‘You have a mobile instrument, haven’t you?’
‘I switch it off at home.’
‘Well we’ll leave that to Mrs Downing’s solicitors shall we. I’m sure they’ll have a great deal more to ask but it really isn’t our affair. The more important question is Turney’s allegation.
‘What allegation?’ asked Kearney.
Matteson turned to his left and Chandler spoke for the first time. ‘Turney’s solicitor has alleged that his wife is having an affair with a police officer and that is why he’s being persecuted.’
‘He’s a murderer,’ Anderson said, ’and that’s why we’re trying to put him behind bars. There is no other reason.’
‘Quite,’ said Matteson, ’but it’s the impression we make on a jury that counts. I’m not going into court and made to look a fool.’
‘Then let someone more keen do it,’ said Kearney.
Anderson was impressed. It looked as though Kearney had some steel about him. He was beginning to fight. If Turney was let out and killed again, as he would, then Kearney was not going to be blamed this time.
‘I meant I’m not going to allow the department to look foolish,’ said Matteson.
‘We’re all going to look very bad indeed if Turney gets out,’ said Anderson. ‘The question is not whether Turney is locked up. It’s whether he’s locked up before he kills again. You’ve all read the evidence. Is there anyone around this table who doesn’t think Turney is a violent serial killer and a menace?’
‘That’s hardly the point,’ said Chandler.
Anderson didn’t let him continue. ‘Oh yes it is. What isn’t important is whether you get egg on your face. We’ve got to have a go and try and convict Turney. I certainly won’t sleep in peace if we let him go and he kills again. The question is will you?’
‘And do you think DCI Anderson that you’ve done all you could to bring this man to justice?’ replied Chandler.
Anderson knew what he was insinuating. He could not allow it to pass. ‘Can we go off the record for a moment?’ he asked looking at Matteson. He nodded and both the women put down their pads. ‘You may think I’ve made a mistake by getting involved with Clarissa Downing but remember this: unless I had, I wouldn’t have had my suspicions about Turney. She would be dead by now and Turney would be a millionaire.’
‘Still,’ said Matteson, ’it doesn’t help the case. What have we got that would prevent a judge from throwing it out?’
‘Amanda Clayden’s evidence,’ said Fielding. It was the first time she had spoken and her clear firm feminine voice brought the men back from the brink. ‘I take it that we would all like to put Turney away. And I believe the best way to do this is to work together.’
It was a refreshing counter to the belligerency that had swept over the table and Anderson was thankful for it.
‘Unfortunately, we’ve had a number of high profile failures in the department recently. The Director is keen not to have another fiasco.’ Miss Smythe matched Fielding in tone, although her accent was several points up the class scale from Fielding’s. She continued. ‘Is Miss Clayden going to make a good witness? She’s an adulterer, she’s young and pretty which can work both ways and Turney alleges that she’s lying because he jilted her. A woman scorned and all that. It’s not a good list.’
‘Turney’s account isn’t credible. Why break up with Amanda outside a cemetery three hundred yards from the flat they share? Why phone her and ask her to bring a knife?’
Smythe continued. ‘We can’t prove Turney asked her to bring a knife but we do know about the phone call and we do know it was made at a call box near the hospital.’
The two women had managed to bring the discussion back to the nitty-gritty of the evidence and Anderson could see that they were enjoying their limelight. It was a friendly sparring. Smythe was trying to find chinks in Fielding’s argument but hoping not to.
Smythe continued. ‘In my mind it depends on DCI Anderson. Miss Clayden’s evidence is neutralised by Turney himself — I’m sure he’ll make an excellent witness; psychopaths often do. The question is, Detective Chief Inspector, can you convince the jury that you recognised Turney and can you do it when the defence starts throwing mud in your face?’
‘Yes I can,’ said Anderson.
There wasn’t much either side could say after that and there was a full three minutes of silence. Anderson continued to look hard at Matteson who looked down at the table and polished the space in front of him with his fingers while they waited.
All six got up without any formal end to the meeting. Anderson looked around him. It wasn’t a room with the patina of history about it. Modern, with low ceilings, cushioned vinyl floors and lots of diffused lighting — it spoke to Anderson of pragmatism and a lack of principle. Bad decisions would be taken in such a room. Defendable decisions that guaranteed pensions and steady promotion but decisions that gave little hope to those outside. Anderson felt a wave of pessimism flow over him.
They left. It was up to the Director, Matteson said. Kearney was not hopeful either.