Two years earlier…
‘The prosecution will be applying to discharge the jury and under the circumstances we have no reasonable grounds to object,’ Olivier’s barrister Brendan Turnmill QC said.
The sound of Olivier tapping his fingers rhythmically against his case files filled the small consultation room.
‘We’re on day twelve,’ Olivier finally replied. ‘They haven’t even finished their case yet and they want to get rid of my jury.’
‘That’s correct,’ said Brendan.
‘And we’re not objecting?’ Olivier pulled out a notepad and flicked through the pages. He stopped at Tuesday. Day Two. Jury Panel. He ran his index finger along the twelve names he had written down.
‘No. We—’
‘Which means that you lot have made a mistake.’ Olivier leaned back and looked across at his solicitor David Samuels, who had been sitting silently next to Brendan doing everything he could to avoid Olivier’s gaze.
‘What have you done, Mr Samuels?’ Olivier’s tone was hard and demanding. ‘I doubt very much that it was our learned friend Mr Turnmill QC who did something so monumentally stupid that it led to my jury being let go. He’s the monkey. You’re the organ grinder.’
David swallowed hard and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. The sound of a woman crying in the consultation room next door filtered through the cracks in the wall.
‘What have you done?’ Olivier asked again.
‘Mr Olivier,’ David said. ‘It’s… well—’
‘And where’s Joseph?’ Olivier asked. ‘You usually send that little shit to sit in on these conferences.’
‘That’s the problem, Mr Olivier,’ Brendan said, glancing over at David with an unmistakable look of disgust.
‘I don’t want to hear from you,’ said Olivier without taking his eyes off David.
David spoke softly as though his voice was being suffocated. ‘Joseph was—’
‘Speak up,’ Olivier commanded.
‘Last night Joseph was arrested and charged with perverting the course of justice by tampering with the jury. Your jury,’ David explained.
Olivier didn’t respond as he looked down again at the jurors’ names.
‘He’s allegedly passed on information to one juror and may have tried to bribe another,’ David continued. ‘He’s being produced at Westminster Magistrates’ Court today.’
‘Which ones?’ Olivier asked.
‘What ones?’ David queried.
‘Jurors. Mr Olivier is asking which jurors!’ Brendan replied exasperatedly.
‘Oh, I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with that right now. It’s more important for us to focus on next steps.’
‘I asked you which ones did your idiotic little colleague tamper with?’ Olivier shouted, lunging forward and grabbing David’s tie. Brendan scrambled out of his chair and ran out of the room. David’s iPad fell out of his hands and onto the concrete floor.
‘Which ones?’ Olivier asked again over the sound of a piercing alarm.
‘The young black girl and, and—’
Olivier suddenly let go as two burly dock officers burst into the room.
‘No harm done,’ said Olivier as he stepped back into the corner and held his hands up. ‘I was just letting my solicitor know that he was sacked.’
Present Day
‘This all started with you,’ Olivier said. He pulled out a long piece of kebab meat from a grease-stained container and pushed it into his mouth.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ Blaine said, moving closer to the church wall.
Olivier carried on walking. ‘They found number three right here.’ He stamped his foot on the concrete staircase where Sean Delaney’s body had been found. The night sky encased the churchyard like a shroud. The minimal light came from the windows of a few flats overhead.
‘Why would he dump Delaney down here?’ Olivier walked over to Blaine.
‘I told you before, they’ve been watching me,’ Blaine whispered as he tried in vain to back away from Olivier.
‘Four bodies.’ He pulled out a large green chilli from his kebab and threw it down the staircase.
‘They’ve already spoken to Lorelei about me. They’ve been to my workplace. I can’t do this anymore.’
‘Too bad for you I’m afraid, son.’
‘I know how the police think. That woman. Henley.’
‘Show some respect. She’s Detective Inspector Henley.’ Olivier sat down on a nearby bench, patting the seat next to him.
Blaine dragged himself with resignation to the bench. ‘They think I did it. Killed those jurors.’
Olivier laughed through a mouthful of chilli sauce-covered chips. ‘They probably think you’re next,’ Olivier said.
‘What do you mean?’
Even in the dimly lit church grounds, Blaine’s face had visibly paled. Olivier enjoyed the slow, pleasurable thrill of taunting him. ‘Detective Inspector Henley probably wants to use you as bait,’ he continued. ‘She’s cold like that. A bit like me.’
‘Is that what you’re doing?’ Blaine replied, his voice shaking. ‘Are you using me for—’
Olivier said nothing as he crushed up his takeaway box and threw it into the bushes.
‘Do you think whoever is doing this will come for me?’ Blaine’s voice almost disappeared amid the siren of a passing ambulance and a couple screaming at each other from a nearby flat.
‘I told you, this all started with you,’ said Olivier. ‘You and I have spent a lot of time talking and I remember everything you told me about Joseph McGrath.’
‘That’s not my name anymore.’
‘That’s not the point, boy. Now, let’s think about this logically.’
‘Is that why you’ve made me come out here in the middle of the night – to be your sounding board?’
‘Or maybe I am using you as bait.’ Olivier’s words cut through the air like a blade. ‘All four of those dead jurors gave evidence in your trial,’ he continued. ‘Lewis, Kennedy, poor little Zoe and Delaney.’
‘But I didn’t kill them,’ Blaine almost whined.
‘For fuck’s sake, shut up and listen. There were two more jurors who gave evidence against you.’
‘I… I… I don’t remember.’
‘Of course you do. Two more jurors who got themselves in just as much trouble as you. Now, I need you to remember who you spoke to. Who seemed most eager to want to help you out? Who would want to please me, impress me?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Your stupidity made my copycat. It’s all cause and effect. You are going to help me track down those jurors.’
‘What if I say no?’ Blaine replied unconvincingly. ‘I can go to the police right now and tell Henley that I need protection.’
‘You could do that, but then I would have no choice but to visit your girlfriend Lorelei, cut off her head, put it in a box and leave another present on my girl’s doorstep.’
‘You wouldn’t. We’re not even together anymore.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Actually, maybe I’ll go and do that right now as it looks like you need an incentive.’
Blaine grabbed hold of Olivier’s arm. ‘No, don’t. Please.’
‘Let go,’ Olivier said, looking down at Blaine’s hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ Blaine stuttered as he stepped away.
‘I’m going to find this copycat and you’re going to help me.’
‘But what if he kills me? He could kill me.’
Olivier smiled and tapped the side of Blaine’s face. ‘If you die, then you die. Cause and effect, Mr Blaine. Cause and effect.’