Post Mortem, Gary Bell [best fiction novels .txt] 📗

fence there and dumping their crap into the Biffas.’

I heard the softest rustle of silk as Garrick straightened up beside me.

‘You’ll have to forgive me for sounding like a broken record, but just to elucidate …’ I spoke more slowly. ‘To gain vehicular access to this car park, which is securely enclosed between the prison walls and the outer perimeter fence, a member of staff would have to show their credentials at your barrier, yes?’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying.’

‘But there are no cameras whatsoever covering the area where the defendant’s car was parked, despite a problem with fly-tippers?’

‘Right.’

‘And you just told the court that these fly-tippers are able to hop over into the car park, did you not?’

‘Right again.’

‘So, wouldn’t it be possible for somebody to enter that car park, unseen, and gain access to any number of staff vehicles at any time of any day? Size of genitalia withstanding, of course.’

The judge cleared her throat and levelled me with a stern look.

The witness thought about it. Nodded. ‘It’s possible.’

‘Are the vehicles regularly checked for contraband?’

‘In the staff car park?’ He shook his head. ‘Never during my years at the prison.’

‘You personally don’t give them a quick once-over upon arriving?’

‘No.’

‘Then, hypothetically, couldn’t the drugs have been inside that car for hours, days, or even weeks before that morning?’

He shrugged, then considered the idea. ‘I just work the booth, but … for all I know, they could’ve been, yes.’ He leaned forward until his lips were actually touching the microphone, then started to speak low and confidential as if the two of us were alone in our conspiratorial gossip. ‘Hey, come to think of it, it could just as easily have been some old con, couldn’t it? Someone looking to get back at the screws! He hops over the fence, gets into the first car he sees and dumps that crap under the boot. Maybe he’s planning on chucking it over the wall and he bottles it! Christ, my car was parked up there as well. It could’ve been me!’

‘It’s possible,’ I said, feeling a huge smile coming on. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Chapman. No more questions.’

Did I honestly believe that an unknown assailant had snuck over the fence, broken into Charli’s Vauxhall and stuffed the drugs inside? Not really, not nearly as much as I suspected the involvement of her boyfriend, but that was beside the point. Doubt was the most crucial part of any defence.

Once again, we were adjourned a little early, and like a child released from school I practically bounced out of the courtroom. That’s where I found Zara, sitting on a bench in the corridor. Her glasses were off, face buried in her hands, and she didn’t look up until I placed a hand on her shoulder.

‘Good day, I take it?’

‘Hopeless,’ she replied. ‘Without a miracle, Andre is certain to be convicted.’

I wasn’t smiling any more.

20

As we got back into chambers a little after five o’clock, Percy flagged us down through the open door of the bustling clerks’ room. He’d been smiling, but one look at the pair of us and his expression wilted.

‘What happened?’

Zara flapped her mouth, but nothing seemed to be coming any time soon.

‘Tough day at the coal face,’ I answered for her.

‘The drug dealer from Newham? The silver lining is that, as we’re prosecuting and defending in that case, it’s a win–win situation for chambers.’ When she didn’t react, he sighed. ‘Look, don’t worry, young lady. My advice is to push on through to the end, then move on to the next case.’

Her eyes turned up to him, their infinitesimal movements revealing a series of conflicting emotions: irritation, distrust, weariness, even gratitude. ‘Just like that? Serve up your client’s head on a platter and then it’s on to the next one?’

‘I wouldn’t be so morose about it, but yes, almost like that. The wheels of the system keep on turning. As a part of that system, you must learn to move forward. If not, you risk losing a little of yourself to every failure. That is the nature of our justice.’

‘Justice?’ she muttered. ‘Do you honestly believe that?’

Percy blinked softly. ‘Miss Barnes, I believe that our legal system is the closest thing we have to justice on this good earth.’ And he left us to climb up to the third floor.

Chambers was officially open until five thirty, but already there was a steady stream of junior barristers squeezing past us on the narrow staircase. Zara hadn’t said much since I’d found her waiting outside the courtroom. Up in my room, I reached into the compartment beneath my desk where I kept a few emergency drinks, which I’d been venturing into less and less just lately. I opened a couple of warm lagers, banging the caps off on the dented edge of my desk, and handed one to Zara, who was sitting in her usual spot by the bureau.

‘It’s just unravelling so fast,’ she said, taking the bottle. ‘The prosecution case is racing along. They’re on to their last witness tomorrow morning. That’s DI Linford, and I’m not even allowed to ask him any questions. I just can’t stop thinking that Andre should have got himself a real barrister. A tenant, not some useless pupil.’

‘Don’t do that to yourself,’ I said. ‘Percy might be a twat from time to time, but he isn’t wrong. You cannot win them all, especially when the evidence is so overwhelming.’

‘You’re saying I never had a chance to begin with?’

‘No. There is always a chance at trial. You haven’t lost anything yet.’

She looked tired and close to tears, hands wringing the neck of her bottle. ‘I might as well start packing this crap up out of your bureau.’

‘There’s no use in being dramatic about it.’

Her eyes swelled and then narrowed straight at me. ‘I am not being dramatic.’

We were interrupted by a loud ringing; it took me a moment to realise that it was coming from the phone on my desk, which I’d had