Dance While You Can (37 page)

‘You don’t have the experience to take on something like this,’ Henry said.

‘Especially,’ my father interrupted, ‘if they find the remains of her sister-in-law.’

‘They won’t. She’s out there somewhere, alive and well, all we have to do is find her.’

‘But you don’t know that for sure. Look, son, can’t you see you could be jeopardising her chances by taking this case. I know how you feel, we both do, but . . .’

‘Where in the rule book does it say I can’t take this case? Eh? Show me!’

‘It doesn’t, you know that. But there is a code of practice we all follow, Alexander. It would be wiser all round if you stuck to it.’

‘How d’you think you’re going to keep yourself under control when the going gets rough?’ my father said. ‘Just look at the way you’re behaving now.’

‘Of course I’m emotional now, what else would you expect? By the time it comes to the trial I’ll be as detached as you like.’

‘And if you lose,’ my father said, ‘how are you going to live with that?’

‘I won’t lose.’

Finally my father stood up. ‘I am not giving this my blessing. You have said nothing to convince me that you’re pursuing the right course. You will take the case as a junior. Freddie Rees, if he agrees, will lead. It is up to him whether or not he lets you conduct the defence. If you do, then on your head be it.’

It was four months before the case came to trial. During that time I all but moved into Priory Walk with Elizabeth and the children, and we tried to carry on our lives as normally as possible. Jessica came to see me from time to time, but our meetings always ended in bitterness. Though she professed to be leading a perfectly happy and fulfilling life on her own, she still behaved like the jealous wife as far as Elizabeth was concerned. It was no surprise when she said she thought Elizabeth was guilty.

‘The trouble with you, Alexander, is that your precious Elizabeth can do no wrong. She’s guilty, all right, you wait and see. I hope she gets what she deserves – and the irony of it is, it’ll be you that gets it for her. You can’t win this case, never in a million years.’

Rosalind wasn’t with her on that occasion and I was sorry for it. At least when Rosalind was around our meetings were a little more civilised.

But as time went on and Freddie Rees agreed to take the case – Freddie who, unlike my father, thought there might be something to be gained from my presenting it – Jessica mellowed, and even took to telephoning me from time to time to see how we were getting on. Freddie monitored my research every step of the way and gave endless advice and encouragement. But our real problem was Christine’s disappearance. I even flew to Gstaad to speak to David about her but he had no idea where she might be. He and Elizabeth were both convinced she wouldn’t have gone to Cairo as she didn’t have the money to pay whoever was blackmailing her. When David refused to come to court and testify on Elizabeth’s behalf, I was shaken. Elizabeth had been so certain he would. Nevertheless I took a signed statement from him, detailing everything he knew about the theft of the death mask.

And that was something else that had delivered its own staggering surprise. The mask was a fake.

‘You can tell,’ one of the experts from the British Museum told me, when I went down to Westmoor to see how they were getting on. ‘You can tell by the holes in the ears.’

‘What holes?’ I asked.

‘Precisely. There are no holes. The real mask has pierced ears. And what’s more, the holes are quite large. Whoever made this copy deliberately set out to have his work recognised as a fake.’

‘Why would he do that?’

The specialist shrugged. ‘Search me. It’s such an obvious mistake, and one Walters couldn’t have failed to notice. Apart from that, the workmanship is incomparable.’

So that was what Edward had been saying in his dying moments – ‘ears’.

I was speechless. Knowing that both Elizabeth and Charlotte blamed themselves for Edward’s death, when all the time it had been this fake that had caused it, sent me into a blinding rage. The only good thing to come out of it was that Customs and Excise were suitably baffled by the expert’s findings and decided that, providing the relevant import taxes were paid on the precious metals, the charge of illegal import would be dropped.

Elizabeth could hardly believe it when I told her. ‘You know, Christine told me that Edward developed this obsession when he realised I would never love him the way he wanted me to. Now it seems he was cheated even over the mask. Poor Edward. All those years, Alexander. All those years I lived with him and hardly knew him. What is it that makes someone do the things he did? It can’t just be love.’

‘The important thing is that you don’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done. As you said, he was cheated. And by the time he found out he had already lost his mind.’ I paused. ‘The person we have to worry about now, Elizabeth, is Christine, not Edward. Christine tried to kill you, and she’s likely to try again.’

Her face turned white. ‘You’ve got to face it, Elizabeth. Under the terms of Edward’s will, if anything happens to you Christine gets everything. At least, until Charlotte and Jonathan are old enough to take over their inheritance.’

‘By which time she will have made sure there is no inheritance to take over,’ Caroline said.

I had called into Henry’s on my way home. Elizabeth was staying there now, until the trial was over; with Christine’s whereabouts still not known I didn’t like her staying at Priory Walk alone. Henry’s house was bursting at the seams with children, for he and Caroline now had four, and Charlotte and Jonathan were staying there too.

Henry walked to the door with me. ‘Why haven’t you told her yet?’ he said.

‘I will. I’ll come back later and take her to the flat. I think she’ll need to be alone with me when she finds out.’

The trial was set for the following Monday at the Old Bailey. What I hadn’t told Elizabeth was that Michael Samuelson was prosecuting. I had seen Samuelson cross swørds with barristers far more experienced than I was, but I’d never seen anyone beat him yet. Not even Freddie Rees.

– 28 –

The clerk of the court stood. Only his bespectacled eyes and the dome of his balding head were visible above the sheet of paper that bore the indictment. Behind him was Justice McKee, dwarfed by his wig and red robes, though still managing to look his usual irritated self. He cast a glance at the full public gallery. It had come as a blow to us to find ourselves in Number One Court; the oppressive dark wood and claustrophobic air were menacing. I looked up at Elizabeth. Her face was drawn, evidence of the sleepless night she had passed. The royal blue of her dress seemed to cast a bluish tinge over her skin too, and with the weight she had lost during the past months she looked almost skeletal. Behind her in the dock was a prison officer. I looked away quickly, before emotion got the better of me. For a fleeting moment I saw the court as Elizabeth must see it: strange and familiar faces, black gowns and white curled wigs. A macabre theatre.

‘Prisoner at the bar, you are charged upon an indictment containing five counts. Count one. Murder. In that, you, on the fifth day of September, 1981, did murder Daniel Raymond Davison. How say you? Guilty or not guilty?’

‘Not guilty.’ Her voice was small but firm, and she looked at the judge as she spoke. He didn’t return the compliment, and though she didn’t move she seemed to shrink back into the dock.

‘Count two. Arson. In that on the fifth day of September, 1981, contrary to the Criminal Damage Act 1971, section one, paragraph two, subsection . . .’ The clerk’s voice droned on as he related each and every word of the subsection, until he asked, ‘How say you? Guilty or not guilty?’

‘Not guilty.’

Three more times we went through the same performance as the counts for theft, forgery, and receiving stolen goods were read out. Then there was a hush over the room as the jury was sworn in. Eventually Michael Samuelson got to his feet. The trial had begun.

For two days prosecution witnesses filed into the court. The main focus of attention was on the murder and the fire, but since no one had actually witnessed the start of the fire there was very little evidence to be heard on that score. Finally, on the third morning, Elizabeth took the stand. For the moment, as so much of the evidence so far had been based on hearsay and conjecture, I wasn’t unduly worried and felt confident that things were going our way. Nevertheless, as she took the oath Elizabeth’s voice shook. Every member of the jury had his eyes fixed on her. This was their first and only opportunity of hearing first-hand what had happened that day at the warehouse.

We began by going over the details of Edward’s will, something I would have preferred to avoid, but I knew that if I didn’t bring it out first Samuelson would be sure to do so later.

When I was satisfied that the jury understood that the will gave Christine a motive for killing Elizabeth, I moved on to the day of the fire.

I smiled encouragingly and asked Elizabeth to begin by telling us at what time she had arrived at Westmoor on the morning of the fire, and what had happened after she found the note from Christine. She spoke quietly, but coherently, going over the details of the telephone conversation with Christine. She confirmed Canary’s testimony that she had said she was going shopping, then told how she had driven her car into the village before returning to Westmoor to make sure Christine’s note was not left around for anyone else to find.

‘Is this note available to the court?’ Justice McKee interrupted.

‘I’m afraid it isn’t, my lord,’ I answered. We had searched everywhere for it but in the end had come to the conclusion that it must have been destroyed in the fire.

‘Oh,’ was all McKee said, but it was enough to throw the existence of the note into question, and add credibility to Miss Barsby’s testimony that she had been directing Customs officers to Westmoor when she saw Elizabeth reverse out of the village; her implication – that Elizabeth had been trying to hide from the Customs officers – was clear.

I turned back to Elizabeth. ‘After you collected the note, what did you do next?’

‘I drove straight to the warehouse. When I got there, Dan, the warehouse-keeper, was at the door. I ran past him up to the second floor where my husband had a large storage area. I looked for Christine, but there was no sign of her. I had only been to the warehouse once before, but I remembered that there was a smaller storeroom at the end of the corridor, which Edward used as an office. As I walked towards it I checked all the units to see if Christine was in any of them. Then, as I pushed open the door at the end, I remember screaming out for Dan.’

‘Can you tell the court why you screamed out for Dan?’

‘Because everything in the room had been smashed to pieces. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Even the wreckage must have been worth a fortune.’

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Samuelson scribbling. ‘And what happened next?’ I asked.

‘I heard a noise behind me. I turned round, but before I knew what was happening I was being pushed into the room.’

‘Can you identify the person who pushed you into the room?’

‘No. I only know it was a man.’

‘A man. But it was your sister-in-law who had asked you to go to the warehouse?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you, at any time on that Saturday afternoon, see your sister-in-law?’

‘No.’

I nodded. ‘And what happened after you were pushed into the room?’

‘I fell into the debris. It reeked of petrol. Then a lighted newspaper was thrown into the room and the door was closed.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘The whole room went up in flames. I managed to get to the door, but it was locked. I tried to find something to break it down with, but then I slipped and fell and my clothes caught fire. I tried to scream but nothing came out. The room was filled with smoke and I could hardly breathe.

‘I threw myself at the door. Then it was as if I was being pushed back into the fire. I didn’t realise at first that someone was trying to open the door from outside, so I tried to resist. Then I heard shouting above the roar of the flames and I was dragged out on to the landing.

‘It was Dan. He was beating me with his overall to smother the flames and asking me what had happened, but all I could say was Christine’s name.

‘He must have assumed she was in the fire because he covered his face and hands with the overall and ran into the room. It must have been only seconds after that that a dresser fell and crashed on top of him. He screamed, and I tried to drag myself towards him. He was still screaming when something else fell, and then . . . he didn’t scream any more.’

She was sobbing, and the judge nodded to the usher to bring her a chair. I waited, letting the silence hang over the court. Eventually she indicated that she was ready to go on.

‘Did you assume Dan was dead at that point, Mrs Walters?’

She raised her hand to her eyes, rubbing away the tiredness. ‘I don’t know what I thought. Yes, I suppose I must have thought he was dead.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I was still lying on the floor. The fire was spreading fast and I knew I had to get help. I managed to drag myself to my feet, then I started to choke again. I realised I had to get outside.’

‘Did you not consider using the telephone in Dan’s office at the warehouse entrance?’

‘I only thought of it when I got downstairs, but by then I could hear sirens in the distance and I knew help was on the way.’

‘And can you tell the jury why you were no longer at the warehouse when the police and fire brigade arrived?’

She started to shake her head, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes again. ‘I panicked. I was a coward, and I panicked.’

‘Why did you panic?’

‘My thoughts were so confused . . . I didn’t know who had started the fire, but I kept thinking about the people Christine had been dealing with, and how she had said they were capable of anything. And then all I could think of was my children, and that I had to get to them.’

‘When you got home, what happened then?’