whether her job description could be changed at Simon’s whim? That would mean a third party knew that she and Simon were now actually at war. Or wait for Mark’s return, when he would lovingly coax her out of her fury? That could compromise him, something she’d tried to avoid the moment they’d become an item.
She sat at her desk, head in her hands.
She’d no idea how long she’d been like that when Mark phoned, apparently breathless.
‘I’ve managed to get hold of tickets for
The Producers
,’ he announced. ‘And you have to catch the next London train.’
CHAPTER TEN
Monday morning saw Fran return to court, to be recalled to the witness box by a stupid and bumptious defence counsel, whose fatuous questions she was able to parry with what the judge described as wit and grace. She hung about for a while, just to be sure in her own mind that she and her team had done everything possible to make a watertight case, before returning to Maidstone too late to lunch with Mark.
She checked her desk, post and emails to ensure that no gremlins had conjured yet another meeting from thin air. No, not one! But before she could celebrate Pat Harper came in bearing a pile of paperwork requiring her instant attention and the news that Henson was off sick.
‘He looked pretty bad on Friday,’ Fran said, noncommittally. ‘Has any arrangement been made to allocate his workload?’
‘Come on, you know they’ll land you with anything they can’t manage. Now, could I have this lot checked and signed by four…?’
Halfway through the afternoon, she’d cleared all the paperwork Pat had inflicted on her. What next? Gates’ report? Not likely. She picked up the case file Mark had asked her to look at. Should anyone query her activities, she minuted that it was a matter of priorities. She did think of suggesting that every extra day innocent men spent behind bars was sinful; instead, she referred to recent judicial criticism of the police and CPS for deferring appeal cases
ad nauseam
.
In response to Fran’s phone call, Sue Hall met her at the evidence store. Fran recalled her as having a hairstyle so disciplined she might almost have been in denial about its auburn beauty. Today it was slightly looser – Tom’s influence, perhaps? – but her suit as severe as Fran’s own, her only ornament a small gold crucifix on a fine chain. It was clear she was apprehensive. She’d never worked solo with Fran before, but surely that couldn’t be worrying her? Surely she was made of sterner stuff? All the same, Fran resolved not to bark or snarl – certainly not at her and possibly not about other people. The obvious way to make her relax was to talk about Tom, but Fran wanted her to feel valued for her own sake.
So she plunged straight into the case; as she spoke, she found her vague fears solidifying into doubts. ‘But don’t get me wrong. I’m sure everyone did his or her best. But we’ve taken some criticism in the media recently and I’d rather find any holes in the case and plug them before anyone else spots them.’
Almost visibly brave, Sue said, ‘There’s a distinct lack of other suspects, isn’t there, guv?’
‘Exactly. Just as having no body is a real problem. Now, I don’t want to waste your time, but if later on you could check every database you can for other possible perpetrators it would be enormously helpful. Just so we can eliminate them.Right, let’s see what the dead woman’s clothes tell us about her.’
The answer was: not a lot.
‘Is this all they have of hers?’ Sue demanded, tossing the few sealed bags on top of each other as if rooting through a sales bin.
‘’Fraid so. What would your next move be?’ she asked with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘To gain access to their house and check her wardrobes and so on. Find out if she used make-up. What her hobbies were. Do we have time?’
‘Technically, yes. But another question looms.’
‘“Does the budget run
She sat at her desk, head in her hands.
She’d no idea how long she’d been like that when Mark phoned, apparently breathless.
‘I’ve managed to get hold of tickets for
The Producers
,’ he announced. ‘And you have to catch the next London train.’
CHAPTER TEN
Monday morning saw Fran return to court, to be recalled to the witness box by a stupid and bumptious defence counsel, whose fatuous questions she was able to parry with what the judge described as wit and grace. She hung about for a while, just to be sure in her own mind that she and her team had done everything possible to make a watertight case, before returning to Maidstone too late to lunch with Mark.
She checked her desk, post and emails to ensure that no gremlins had conjured yet another meeting from thin air. No, not one! But before she could celebrate Pat Harper came in bearing a pile of paperwork requiring her instant attention and the news that Henson was off sick.
‘He looked pretty bad on Friday,’ Fran said, noncommittally. ‘Has any arrangement been made to allocate his workload?’
‘Come on, you know they’ll land you with anything they can’t manage. Now, could I have this lot checked and signed by four…?’
Halfway through the afternoon, she’d cleared all the paperwork Pat had inflicted on her. What next? Gates’ report? Not likely. She picked up the case file Mark had asked her to look at. Should anyone query her activities, she minuted that it was a matter of priorities. She did think of suggesting that every extra day innocent men spent behind bars was sinful; instead, she referred to recent judicial criticism of the police and CPS for deferring appeal cases
ad nauseam
.
In response to Fran’s phone call, Sue Hall met her at the evidence store. Fran recalled her as having a hairstyle so disciplined she might almost have been in denial about its auburn beauty. Today it was slightly looser – Tom’s influence, perhaps? – but her suit as severe as Fran’s own, her only ornament a small gold crucifix on a fine chain. It was clear she was apprehensive. She’d never worked solo with Fran before, but surely that couldn’t be worrying her? Surely she was made of sterner stuff? All the same, Fran resolved not to bark or snarl – certainly not at her and possibly not about other people. The obvious way to make her relax was to talk about Tom, but Fran wanted her to feel valued for her own sake.
So she plunged straight into the case; as she spoke, she found her vague fears solidifying into doubts. ‘But don’t get me wrong. I’m sure everyone did his or her best. But we’ve taken some criticism in the media recently and I’d rather find any holes in the case and plug them before anyone else spots them.’
Almost visibly brave, Sue said, ‘There’s a distinct lack of other suspects, isn’t there, guv?’
‘Exactly. Just as having no body is a real problem. Now, I don’t want to waste your time, but if later on you could check every database you can for other possible perpetrators it would be enormously helpful. Just so we can eliminate them.Right, let’s see what the dead woman’s clothes tell us about her.’
The answer was: not a lot.
‘Is this all they have of hers?’ Sue demanded, tossing the few sealed bags on top of each other as if rooting through a sales bin.
‘’Fraid so. What would your next move be?’ she asked with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘To gain access to their house and check her wardrobes and so on. Find out if she used make-up. What her hobbies were. Do we have time?’
‘Technically, yes. But another question looms.’
‘“Does the budget run
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