Court Out (16 page)

After dinner we’re curled up on the sofa. I’m highlighting portions of the evidence that we’ll need for tomorrow and Sebastian is watching a documentary about American conspiracy theories. I’m miles away reading about Hobbs when my phone vibrates. It’s a text message from a number I don’t recognise. I open the message and read it

“She was right, the cocktails are fantastic. I’ll have to take you.”

I don’t need to fish around in my handbag to find the crumpled piece of paper to know who it’s from. Sebastian turns to me.“ Anything important?” he asks.

“No, just work” I reply, deleting the message, turning off the phone and returning to my work.

Chapter Eleven

The second day of the trial starts much as the first ended. All morning, Quinn has been trying to bait Corr into some form of argument for his entertainment. Corr has been dealing with him in the way one might a pesky wasp, merely brushing him off at every opportunity.

Quinn has resumed his attack in trying to persuade the Judge to allow a visit to the Hobbs mansion and it looks as though Mr. Justice Wynne has finally been worn down. He’s directed that tomorrow we all travel there by coach and spend the day visiting the property. Corr has remained silent throughout and clearly is not happy with this turn of events.

Personally, I’m really quite excited at the idea but I’m having to look disapproving too. The next witness is PC Rogers who should be quite interesting. She’s a small, blonde woman who’s just come in to court and taken the oath. Corr begins his questioning.

“Officer, who is Amanda Winsmore?”

“She is the schoolgirl who was impregnated by the Defendant.”

“And was this reported in the press?”

“Yes, the story broke the day before Mrs Hobbs’ body was found.”

“Members of the jury, please turn to divider 15,” instructs Corr.

The jury look for a few minutes at the various front-page reports from the tabloids that day. They all bear photographs of an angelic looking blonde fourteen year-old girl. The picture shows her in her school uniform, smiling for her annual school shot. Next to her image is a picture of Hobbs drunkenly giving the finger to the press following his ejection from a strip club a few years ago.

The headlines scream about the underage sex scandal, how the daughter of a bishop was seduced by Hobbs when he visited her school to open their new football fields. It seemed that their eyes had met across a crowded lunchroom and he had instructed one of his bodyguards to get her phone number for him.

He’d contacted Amanda a few days later and arranged to meet up with her at his home when Marina was out at her daily hairdressers appointment. He’d plied her with champagne and compliments and after a hurried encounter in his swimming pool, her fate was sealed before the designated hour was up.

It appears that she’d tried to call him again to meet up, tried texting him, emailing him and even attending one of his training sessions to try and get his attention. None of it had worked, Hobbs ignored all of her advances and was continued to be seen by the press with various other girls.

The storm broke when she discovered that she was pregnant. When she tried to call Hobbs to let him know, she realised that he’d changed his phone number. Left with no other options, she went to the press.

“Was the Saturday this story came out a match day?” continues Corr.

“Yes,” replies PC Rogers. “Hobbs’ team was playing against their local rivals”

“How did the game go for Hobbs?”

The officer laughs.

“Not well. He seemed unable to even stand up let alone kick the ball. He was given a red card after twelve minutes for punching the other teams goalkeeper. He broke his nose.”

“Was he allowed to remain in the stadium?”

“No, he was sent to the dressing room for the remainder of the match.”

“Just out of curiosity, did Hobbs’ team win?”

“Yes. As soon as Hobbs was sent off, the whole dynamic of play changed. If you’ll pardon the expression, they were on fire. I think the final score was 5-0?”

A few of the male jury members nod knowledgeably at this.

“Now” says Corr “As part of this investigation you were tasked to try and track Hobbs’ movements for the rest of that day. Can you please tell us what you found?”

“Of course. Well, we know that after leaving the stadium at 6pm in his white Overfinch, he drove into the city centre.”

“What’s an Overfinch?” queries Corr.

“It’s his car, a specially customised Range Rover.”

“Ah, I see. Where did he go?”

“Well he drove to Ghost, a bar in the city centre, left his car outside and went in. That’s where a lot of the team went after the game.”

“You were able to get the CCTV from the bar that day, so lets have a look at that now please.”

The lights in the courts are dimmed and the four plasma screens attached to the walls of the court are turned on. I press play with the DVD remote and the screens flicker into life and a blurry image comes into focus. I’ve been to Ghost a few times so I know the layout quite well.

The CCTV starts at 6:30pm and shows Hobbs with a large group of people, some of whom I recognise as his teammates. Even without sound, it’s clear that with every drink he had he became even more obnoxious. He is seen to leer openly at the barmaids and smack the bums of any female within touching distance whilst simultaneously swigging from bottles of champagne that are brought to the table.

By 11pm, we can see that he’s dancing drunkenly with a group of scantily dressed girls, looking noticeably worse for wear and by 2am he’s seen to be arguing with anyone who looks at him. He’s waving his drink around, poking the chest of a nearby male and struggling to maintain an upright position.

The footage comes to an end shortly after 3am when Hobbs is seen to leave the bar with his teammate, Andre Plushenko. It’s not easy to pinpoint him exactly, as there are a large number of people making their way to the exit, but it’s agreed by all that he’s somewhere in the scrum.

“So officer, was there any CCTV from outside Ghost?” queries Corr.

“No, the camera outside the premises wasn't working that night”

“So our trail ends there?”

“Yes, there’s then no trace of where he went. But we know his car remained where he left it.”

“How far is Ghost from the Hobbs property?” Corr enquires.

“Not far at all, perhaps a ten minute drive?” replies PC Rogers.

“What about Plushenko, could you trace his actions?”

“No, because of the same problem, we couldn’t see where he went either.”

We take a short break before calling the next witness, one of the bar staff from Ghost that night. I turn off the CCTV and put the disc carefully back in its box. Corr gives me an appraising glance.

“I received your amendments to the interviews last night and I was impressed. Can you make sure that there are enough copies for the jury?”

I gape at him. “Sure, I mean, of course I can. It’s Mr. Jenkins next isn’t it?”

“Yes. Are you familiar with the key areas of his evidence?”

I pause and think. “He is the one who can tell the jury about the behaviour they’ve just seen on the CCTV, put some flesh on the bones so to speak.”

Corr nods at me before turning away to speak to Quinn. I’m aware that Rivers is sitting to my left; I’ve tried to ignore him as much as I can to try and put some professional distance between us. The same cannot be said for Serena who has been glued to his side every time the court takes a break. I’m not sure if she’s flirting so obviously with him to annoy Lucinda or for some other reason, but either way, it’s pretty obvious. To be fair, he doesn't seem to be reciprocating; at the moment he’s ignoring the penetrating stares aimed at him. Luckily, Lucinda has gone out for a cigarette, but Corr keeps shooting Serena disapproving glances. Quinn barely notices. I decide to stay out of it, I mean whilst we are now on good terms, I need to stay under the radar. Rivers turns to me and lets out a sigh.

“Do you have a spare copy of the agreed facts? I have no idea where mine have gone.”

“Yep.” I reply, flicking through a wad of documents carefully arranged in front of me. I fish out a familiar bundle and hand it over to him. He smiles warmly at me.

“You’re a total lifesaver.”

He steps towards me and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my right ear. “We really need to put our heads together at some point. Tonight? I’ve found a great little bar not too far away.”

I take a step back and look carefully at him. His eyes are fixed on mine and I can’t help but nod in agreement.

“Sure,” I manage to reply, before the court clerk starts barking orders that everyone should be ready to resume.

The jury are reassembled and I take my seat, still somewhat dazed. Corr addresses the Judge. “May it please you, My Lord, the next witness is Adam Jenkins at page 52. Miss Chase will take this witness.”

“Very well” nods the Judge, looking pleased at the concept of a fresh face.

Eh? What? What! Does he mean? He can’t mean? He can’t expect me to take over! I look at him in shock. He narrows his eyes at me and indicates to the witness box with his head. With shaking legs, I get to my feet.

“Could you give the court your full name please?” I ask.

“Yes, I could,” replies Mr. Jenkins cockily.

I can hear a few titters behind me. I take a deep breath. “Glad to hear it. What is your full name?”

“Adam Carl Jenkins”

“And what is your occupation?”

“I’m an actor.”

What? Is this some kind of joke? I know from his statement that he’s the manager of Ghost.

“Really? Would we have seen you in anything?”

He glares at me. “I doubt it.”

This isn’t going well and I’m conscious of Quinn audibly sighing to my left. There’s an awkward silence as I try and think how to get this back on track.

“Right, so, do you have a connection to Ghost bar?” I attempt.

“I used to work there.”

“And were you there the night when Ryan Hobbs came in?”

“I was there a lot of the nights when he came in,” he answers smugly. “Which night are you talking about?”

I fight the urge to scream and continue.

“Mr. Jenkins, this will be the third time you’ve given evidence during these proceedings about Mr. Hobbs’ behaviour in your bar won’t it?”

“Yes” he concedes.

“So you know exactly which night I’m talking about then, don’t you?”

“Well, I suppose so, yes” he acknowledges grumpily.

Technically you’re not allowed to cross-examine your own witness, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Luckily, no-one’s said anything. 

“So lets talk about that night then please. The court has seen the CCTV footage and have been able to see the Defendant in Ghost. Did you have any personal contact with him?”

“Yes. As the acting manager I had the dubious honour of dealing with his table.”

“What did that involve?”

“I had to handle all of his requests, make sure his table was fully stocked and provide some club security to make sure that the regular guests didn’t bother him too much”

“How was he behaving that night?” I venture.

“When he came in he was in a foul mood. He was being really arrogant and acting like he owned the place.”

“Had you seen the press articles about him that day?” I chance.

“Hell yes! It was all over the news. To be honest, I wasn’t that happy about having a child molester in the bar, but I couldn’t really do anything about it.”

I pause and try and let this sink in. “Did his behaviour change as the night continued?”

“Well after he had been drinking for a while he seemed to cheer up, he was being very loud, shouting that he was still ‘the dogs bollocks’ at anyone who went near him. He just then got progressively drunker until someone mentioned the girl.”

“The girl? Do you mean Amanda Winsmore?” I ask.

“Yes. One of the guys in his group made a crack about it and he just flipped. This was after midnight though.”

“What did he do?” I prompt.

“He just went mad, shouting obscenities at the man, poking him, got right in his face. One of my door staff had to ask the other male to leave.”

“Why the other male and not Hobbs?”

“Well, Hobbs was what we classed as a ‘big spender’ so we’d have lost quite a lot that night if I’d thrown him out.”

“Really? How much did he spend that night?”

“Gosh, well over ten grand. He bought spirits by the bottle and pretty much decimated our stock of champagne.”

“How was he at closing time?” I enquire.

“Very, very drunk. He was mumbling incoherently about the game, Amanda and his wife. He left with one of the other players, the tall Russian one.”

“Was he able to walk unassisted?”

“Yes, but definitely not in a straight line!” he laughs.

I’m about to end my questioning when something occurs to me.

“What brand of champagne was he buying?”

“My Lord?” interrupts Quinn “How is this relevant?”

The Judge looks at me with an interested expression. “Miss Chase can ask the question. Please answer that Mr. Jenkins.”

“It was the Krug Clos Du Mesnil 1995. We charge £800 per bottle, and only had twelve in stock. He bought them all.”

“Did you restock that vintage?”

“No, it’s pretty rare so we went for another.”

“You said earlier that you’d been in the bar a number of occasions when Hobbs was there. Did he always buy that champagne?”

Jenkins laughs. “No, he just went for whichever was the most expensive.”

“Thank you, if you wait there, there will be some questions from Mr. Quinn”

I sink to my seat, mind whirring. I flick back to the photographs taken from the scene and locate the one of the smashed champagne bottle on the kitchen floor. It’s hard to see the exact details, but I’m sure an expert could enhance the details so we could see precisely what house and vintage it was. I’d put money on this being one of the bottles from Ghost. Excitedly, I listen to Quinn asking questions of Jenkins, jovial as ever.

“You of course can appreciate why Mr. Hobbs would’ve been in a bad mood that night?”