Murder Club - Mark Pearson [36]
The defence barrister, Hector Douglas – a tall, balding man in his fifties, a leading light in the firm of Gable & Wilson, and wearing a suit that cost more than Jack Delaney’s monthly salary – leapt to his feet.
‘Objection! Counsel is leading the witness.’
Selena shook her head, as though annoyed by the interruption. ‘Not at all, My Lord. I ask only if there were other persons present that night that she might recall.’
The judge nodded. ‘Overruled. You can answer the question, Miss Hewson.’
‘I saw a man further along the platform, he was looking at the women.’
‘And could you describe him?’
Stephanie Hewson looked across at Jack Delaney again, and once more the defence barrister sprang to his feet.
‘Your Honour!’ he said, seemingly outraged. ‘The witness seems to be seeking advice in this regard from members of the gallery. Are we not to have her opinion unalloyed by prejudicial direction?’
The judge sighed. ‘Please spare the court your theatrics, Mr Douglas, and sit down. And, Miss Hewson, please try to focus on counsel and her questions.’
‘He was a long way down the platform from me.’ She shrugged. ‘He was of medium height, had a dark coat on, was wearing a hat and had glasses.’
‘Okay. Now please tell the court what happened next?’
‘I waited for my train. More people came onto the platform. The train arrived and I made it in time to Marylebone to catch my overland train to Harrow-on-the-Hill.’
‘But you had to run in order to do so?’
‘Relevance, My Lord,’ asked Hector Douglas, this time not bothering to rise.
The judge gestured to Selena Carrow.
‘Goes to her state of mind, Your Honour. Focus as to who she may or may not have seen.’
‘Continue.’
‘So you were running, Miss Hewson?’
‘I was. As fast as I could, I had court shoes on.’
‘And did you notice the man you had seen in the hat earlier?’
Douglas stood up. ‘Objection, My Lord!’
‘You know better than to lead the witness, Miss Carrow.’
‘Sorry, My Lord.’ She turned back to the witness. ‘Did you take any notice of the people around you?’
‘I did not. No. Like I said, I was running as fast as I could.’
‘Quite so. And you made your train?’
‘I did.’
‘And then what happened that evening?’
‘The train came into Harrow station some twelve or so minutes later and I continued my journey home on foot.’
‘Could you describe that journey for us?’
‘I live on the hill, so it is a ten-minute walk. Usually I take a taxi.’
‘But that night you didn’t.’
Stephanie Hewson looked at the woman for a minute, her hand trembling. She took a sip of water, spilling some, then placed the glass down. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I did not.’
‘Why was that?’
‘It was a nice evening.’
‘You said earlier it had been cold?’
‘It was cold. But it was a nice night. Clear sky. The moon was full, so there was plenty of light, there were stars in the sky …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I was in a good mood. I thought I would enjoy the walk.’
‘But you didn’t enjoy the walk?’
Stephanie Hewson looked down at her feet for a moment, then looked back up, her eyes wet. ‘No, I did not enjoy the walk.’
‘Can you tell the court what happened?’
The judge looked sympathetically at the woman in the witness dock. ‘It’s okay. Take as long as you like.’
‘Thank you,’ she said and raised the glass to her lips once more, taking a few more sips of the water. She placed the glass back down and then straightened herself, as if steeling herself for what was to come. ‘I was gagged and raped. And when he was done with me, he took a sharp knife and sliced it across my breasts, my stomach and my thighs.’
25.
THE WOMAN LOOKED across at the accused, who was watching her intently, but seemed neither agitated nor concerned.
Michael Robinson was in his early fifties with receding sandy-coloured hair, of medium height, but stocky with broad shoulders. He wore tortoiseshell retro-style glasses, and the skin on his balding pate was flaky. He was dressed in a two-piece suit and wore a white shirt with a green tie. He met the woman’s gaze with unblinking