Chapter 7

 

 

 

 

 

“Solicitor-advocate?” Seagoe asked, shaking my hand.

“Exactly! I’ll be your junior,” I nodded to him, trying to appear as friendly as possible while remaining professional. I doubted he’d be more astonished if I had told him I was a QC.11 “I’m joking, of course.”

He forced a laugh and sat down.

“You must have heard about the murder of Mariana Torres from the press?”

I nodded.

Torres was an Englishwoman of Argentinean origin; her last boyfriend found her dead in her King’s Road flat on the evening of November 26, 2011. The cause of death was a stab wound in the back, behind the heart region. Death occurred half an hour after the wound was inflicted. The police found a bloody knife in a trash can on King’s Road, and the forensic investigation had confirmed that it was the murder weapon. As far as I could remember, no fingerprints had been found on it.

“The Crown’s got two trumps to play against Hayworth,” Seagoe began, “a motive and his presence at the crime scene around the time of death — that is, between seven thirty and eight thirty in the evening. Let’s run over the facts of the case: Even though Hayworth and Torres broke up in November of 2010 after a two-year relationship, Hayworth continued to be jealous of Torres’ new boyfriend, Tyler Hearn. On October 26, our client made a public scene in Raison d’être Bistro when he came upon Torres and Hearn enjoying dinner together. The manager was compelled to ask Hayworth to leave the place.”

“Was Hayworth alone?”

“Hmm… no, he wasn’t. There was a woman accompanying him. Don’t ask me who she is,” he hastened to add before I could question him about her. “Hayworth had been also sending Torres texts with rude and obscene content. None of them were saved on her mobile but Hearn told the police he had seen them, including one that read: ‘Are you happy with him, you cow?’ The prosecution has subpoenaed the mobile company for the records but it doesn’t look like they’ll be able to get them in time.”

“A typical case of morbid jealousy. That’s what the prosecution will argue. Who’s the prosecutor?”

“Lady Macbeth,” Seagoe announced, puffing his chest out slightly in a show of arrogance.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“Sarah Eaton, a silk,” he specified, referring to the silk gowns the Queen’s Counsels wore.

“Torres’ next door neighbor, a Mrs. Stubbings, heard continuous shouting and banging on Torres’ front door on the day of the murder. She went out and saw Hayworth, leaning on the door and screaming, ‘Mariana, open the door!’ This was a little before seven thirty in the evening; she says Hayworth was intoxicated.”

“What does he say about that?”

“He says he was at a match at Emirates Stadium, had a few drinks with some mates and then went to Torres’ flat. She wasn’t there so eventually he left.”

“Fingerprints?”

“No fingerprints found in the flat, apart from Torres’ and her boyfriend Hearn’s. The murder weapon was a kitchen knife taken from Torres’ kitchen. No fingerprints on the knife, either.”

“So there’s no physical evidence against Hayworth,” I mused thoughtfully. “Despite his motive and his proven presence at the crime scene, I think we still stand a chance.”

“Have you seen Jonathan Hayworth?” Seagoe asked me.

“The Irish bad boy? Not in the flesh,” I admitted, “only in photos.”

“He’s got an undeniable influence on the female audience. My daughter likes him and she’s only eight.” He paused. “Even if he’d been caught over Torres’ dead body, I think the women on the jury might acquit him.”

I silently wondered if sexual energy could really dictate behavior to such an extent.

“Aside from the lack of physical evidence, what can we use to defend him?”

“Hayworth’s own statement. He drank a bit too much that night, went to his ex’s flat, rang and knocked for a while but when no one came to the door, he left.”

“Is he testifying?”

He looked at me with interest. “What do you think?”

I crossed my legs. “If he really has such a magnetic influence on women, might be a good move.”

“I think so, too.” Seagoe nodded his approval and confirmed, “Hayworth will be testifying.”

“What other witnesses will we call?”

“Mad Dogs’ lead singer and guitarist, Hayworth’s psychotherapist and —”

“He has one?” I asked, surprised.

“Ever since his public tantrums began, yes. That’s the official version,” he said with a wink. “Dr. McCaffrey has been treating him by way of one-hour sessions since the beginning of last year. He’ll state that despite his occasional fits of aggression, Hayworth is incapable of committing murder.”

“Lady Macbeth will also call a psychologist?” I asked.

“Certainly — a forensic psychologist from Belmarsh.” He paused and stood up. “Dayton told me you were hiring a private investigator, um… whatever his name is. Be sure and tell me if he finds something.”

“Of course.”

“Well, that’s it for now. If we don’t see each other before the trial begins, just be ready,” he said, handing me the folder with the police and witness accounts for the case. Ironic, seeing as how my role as the defendant’s solicitor was to pass documents to the barristers.

“How long have you been a QC?” I asked.

Seagoe looked startled. “Five years. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “Just curious.”

“You know, I can think of many solicitors who got re-qualified as barristers. And vice versa,” he added, seeing me to the door.

I couldn’t imagine wasting a year as a pupil at a barrister’s chambers, only getting ten thousand pounds annually. First, the chambers would have to vote and approve my remaining there as a tenant. And then it would take me a few years to build a solid enough portfolio of clients to start earning the amount of money I was making now.

“I don’t know. I’m from New York. I don’t really understand these things,” I sighed.

“I thought I recognized the accent,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Do you remember that American football star’s trial, um…”

“O. J. Simpson?”

“That’s right. Just like he was acquitted of murdering his ex-wife, our boy Hayworth will be too.” Seagoe opened the front door. Noticing my hesitation, he added, “If a client tells us he is innocent, then he is. I know you Yanks say ‘In God we trust’ but rather it’s the client in whom we trust.”