Dan paced as he waited for the reply from the custody sergeant.
He’d found himself a quiet corner of the courtroom as Francesca waited for Murdoch to complete her enquiries. He’d called all the custody offices in the county. Clients travel to commit crimes, but the answer from all of them had been the same, that Pat wasn’t there.
He’d known the answers all along, Pat would have let him know, but he had to do something.
The sergeant came back on. ‘Sorry, Mr Grant, he’s not been here. I checked the logs from last night and the only legal reps who came weren’t from your firm.’
‘Okay, thanks anyway,’ and he clicked off.
For a moment, he was alone, and he felt the dread of knowing that Pat was in danger. Pat wasn’t the sort of person to disappear, he was too fond of the grand farewell for that, so Dan prayed for a simple explanation.
Before he could think any more about it, the courtroom door opened and the calm was disturbed by a flurry of movement. He watched as Francesca strode towards him. She slapped the list onto the desk in front of him and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re a lucky man, Mr Grant.’
‘Peter’s name hasn’t come up?’
‘No intelligence on him and he doesn’t get mentioned anywhere. Shall we start?’
The court assistant didn’t wait for Dan’s response. She made a call to the cells and asked them to bring Peter Box into the dock, and then went through the door in the wooden panelling to collect the judge.
Dan stared at the desk as he waited and tried to control his breathing. He made a silent apology to Pat that he had to push him to the back of his mind for a few hours. He had to focus on the case, Pat would understand that, and it was either going to be a momentous day in a no-hoper’s case, or he would spend the day fending off a judge’s fury.
There was a rattle of keys and Peter Box shuffled into the dock. Dan looked round. Peter stared at him as he sat down. His usual blank look had been replaced by an expression that was harder to define.
‘I might not mention it at all,’ Dan said to Francesca.
Francesca’s eyes flared for a moment. ‘What the hell have you had me doing for the last hour?’
‘It’s my choice as to whether I use it or not,’ Dan snapped, before holding his hand up in apology. ‘I’m sorry, but there are other things going on. You use the list, if you want. Ask Murdoch about them, just so that you can take some of the sting away from my questions, but you can hardly call me desperate if you do. I’ll just be responding to what you’ve raised.’
‘My dear boy, there is no sting to your questions.’
Before Dan could respond, the court assistant entered and ordered everyone to stand, followed by the slow shuffle of the judge, his every step a performance. He gave a slow bow, everyone in the courtroom responding, before taking their seat.
Francesca leaned across and whispered, ‘Whatever’s going on with you, leave it behind when you enter the courtroom. All that matters is the case.’
As the usher went to fetch the jurors, the judge glared at Dan over his glasses. ‘Any more delays, Mr Grant?’
He rose and glanced down at Francesca. ‘I’m ready to proceed, My Lord.’
‘Ms McIntyre?’
She stayed seated and nodded her assent.
Murdoch walked with confidence to the witness stand. She put her shoulders back and swore the oath in a loud voice without reading the card held in front of her by the court usher. Dan knew what she was projecting, that she was an experienced detective who’d been to court before. She was wearing a sober blue suit and a plain white blouse and nodded her greetings to the judge.
Francesca’s questions took her through the murder scene, using photographs to display the horror of it, to make the jurors hate Peter before they heard anything else about him. The atmosphere in the courtroom was tense and sombre. A few of the jurors gasped as they leafed through the photographs.
Francesca made as if to look through her papers, although it was only for effect, to let the images sink in, before she asked, ‘When did you first hear of Peter Box?’
‘Once we’d learned that there was blood on the victim’s shoe, we surmised that she had injured her attacker. When we asked around the local hospitals, we discovered that Peter Box had received treatment for a head wound from Highford Royal Infirmary. When we went to his house, we saw what appeared to be stitches to his temple.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I asked him how he’d got his injury. He wouldn’t tell me. I asked him where he’d been on New Year’s Eve. He wouldn’t tell me, so I arrested him.’
‘And then?’
‘We took him into custody. Took DNA samples from him and interviewed him.’
‘What did he say in his interview?’
‘Nothing.’
Francesca faked surprise. ‘At all?’
‘Not a thing. He wouldn’t even give his name. We went through five interviews and he didn’t utter a single word.’
‘Was he legally represented?’
‘He was.’ Murdoch pointed towards Dan. ‘Mr Grant was there throughout.’
Every one of the jurors seemed to be sitting more upright than before, some of them looking at Dan. There were murmurs from the public gallery, silenced by a glance from the judge. Dan knew what they were all thinking, that he’d shielded a murderer. He’d turned into the bad guy.
Francesca paused so that her words could settle, before she said, ‘Thank you,’ and sat down to allow Dan to ask the questions.
Dan was slow getting to his feet. It risked making him look hesitant, but he knew it would make Murdoch nervous. He was right. Murdoch shifted her weight and put her hands on the edge of the witness box. It was subconscious, but it looked as if she was waiting to be hit.
‘Until you heard about the hospital visit,’ Dan said, ‘Peter Box had not featured in your investigation at all, had he?’
Murdoch turned towards the jury to give her firm response in the affirmative. It was a delaying tactic. It made her look assertive, but it slowed the questions down too.
‘You searched Peter Box’s home. Correct?’
‘Of course we did. We investigate cases like this thoroughly.’
‘Please tell the jurors what evidence you found in his home, during this thorough investigation, that corroborated the fact that he was on the canal bank.’
Murdoch’s lips pursed for a second, before she complied. ‘His computers and phone were inconclusive.’
‘Isn’t the correct answer that there was no evidence?’
She clenched her jaw before replying, ‘Yes.’
‘Have you investigated the life of the deceased thoroughly?’
‘I have. I insist on it, for the sake of the victim and her family.’
‘Spare us the press conference speech, Inspector. In your thorough investigation of Lizzie Barnsley’s life, does Peter Box appear anywhere?’
Murdoch glanced towards Francesca. ‘No, he does not.’
‘In summary, therefore, there was no prior connection between Peter Box and Lizzie Barnsley?’
‘That’s right, none. We treated it as a random attack.’
‘What about Peter Box and the police?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Has he ever come to the attention of the police before?’
‘No, he hasn’t.’
‘Is there any evidence that he was out on the streets that night?’
‘Yes, his blood was on the victim’s shoe.’
Dan threw his papers on to the desk. ‘Don’t be facetious, Inspector. Did you check any CCTV from the town-centre pubs or on the streets, to look for him?’
‘We did.’
‘And the cameras close to the location of the attack?’
‘We always do that.’
‘And does Peter Box appear anywhere on any piece of footage?’
‘No, but there’s a way through the estate on the other side of the canal.’
‘The answer is no, I believe. Is that right?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘And how many hospitals did you visit once you discovered Peter Box?’
Murdoch was about to answer but faltered.
‘Inspector, you’re allowed to say the word. It’s none, isn’t it?’
‘I get where you’re coming from, Mr Grant, but I lose either way. I say I stopped looking and you say that I’m blinkered. I say I carried on looking and you say that I didn’t really suspect Peter Box.’
‘Stick to giving the answers, Inspector, not making excuses.’ Dan’s tone had become angry, making the judge look up from his notes. ‘You found Peter Box and didn’t look any further.’
Murdoch looked to the judge and then back to Dan. ‘That’s correct.’
‘And a man who had sought treatment for a wound had a wound?’
Murdoch nodded but added, ‘And his blood was on her shoe.’
‘Tell the court about Meladox.’
Murdoch’s eyelids flickered.
‘Inspector?’
‘That’s the name of the lab we use for blood analysis.’
‘Still?’
Murdoch looked to Francesca but there was no help there. Francesca was looking through her notes, feigning disinterest, hoping that the jurors would think that if she wasn’t concerned, neither should they be.
‘I don’t know who we use at the moment.’
Dan leaned forward. ‘But not Meladox anymore. Is that right?’
Murdoch’s cheeks flushed. ‘No, not at the moment.’
‘Why is that?’
‘They’re being investigated for irregularities, but only in relation to alcohol and drug analysis.’
Dan held up his hand. ‘Your force has stopped using Meladox for alleged irregularities in their testing. Is that right, inspector?’
Murdoch pursed her lips before nodding in agreement.
Dan slammed his hand on to the desk, making everyone jump. ‘Is that a yes, inspector?’
Her voice was quiet when she replied, ‘You know it is.’
Dan closed his eyes for a moment. Now was the time.
He looked at the jury. Some of them had furrowed brows, tilted heads, as if looking at the case differently. He’d alleviated some of the negative effects of Peter’s blood being found on Lizzie’s shoe by throwing in the possibility of a mistake, but he had no way of knowing whether he’d done enough. There was Peter’s injury as well, along with the biggest problem of all: his silence.
He had no option. Dan had to ask Murdoch about the other canal murders.