The Verdict: BookShots (A Jon Roscoe Thriller) Page 5

  ‘Harvey, we both know there is not – and never has been – any question of a relationship between me and this woman Elegant Daniels, don’t we?’ asserted the Prime Minister.

  There was silence and Amelia waited for her husband. After a long pause he replied.

  ‘If I take the stand tomorrow,’ Rylands began slowly, ‘and attest to the fact that you never had a relationship with her, it will leave me as the only realistic suspect for the jury to consider. Why would I do that?’

  ‘I don’t care why, Harvey. If you don’t do it, I will. I’m not being set up as an alternative suspect in your attempted-murder trial!’

  ‘You don’t get it, Andrew,’ said Rylands, speaking in a low voice. ‘I’m going to take the stand and I’m going to say whatever it takes. The only thing that will stop me is you starting to pull some very big strings. I’m looking at a lot worse than losing my job, or being a threat to your party. I’m looking at twenty years. I will say whatever it takes to create a reasonable doubt.’

  ‘Harvey, you have to be realistic here,’ said Turner, as Amelia thought he sounded increasingly defensive. ‘I just don’t have that kind of influence. I have to let the judiciary run its own course.’

  ‘Andrew,’ smiled Rylands, speaking slowly, ‘I’m on trial for attempted murder, and I’m staying in the world’s most luxurious hotel chain. This doesn’t happen to normal defendants, and I know it wasn’t just my money that has secured me this little privilege.’

  ‘Pre-trial is one thing, but I can’t interfere with a verdict.’

  Amelia heard her husband get to his feet and return to the bar.

  ‘Can’t or won’t? Come on, Andrew, we all know how it works. A couple of calls from you lead to a couple more calls and, before we know it, there is a bit of pressure on the judge. A statement from him pushing the jury in my direction – that’s all I’m asking. And if that doesn’t work, there are always the appeal judges.’

  ‘No, Harvey, you’re on your own this time. Neither my influence nor Barbara’s money is going to get you out of this.’

  ‘Don’t throw Barbara’s money at me! What got you into Downing Street in the first place?’

  Rylands took another long drink. ‘We both know any statement from you denying a relationship with Elegant would be a downright lie. And if you don’t help me, I will take the stand tomorrow and tell the world exactly what did happen between the two of you.’

  CHAPTER 17

  LISTENING INTENTLY, AMELIA pulled her robe tightly around her slender waist. As she stood by the door she could hear her husband’s threatening tone.

  ‘The only reason you’ve come here tonight is to find out what I might say on the stand; to try and bully me into putting you in the clear; to make sure good ol’ Harvey will play ball. Well, Andrew, I won’t, not this time. I’m fighting for my life – and if you don’t help me, I will do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Harvey, you’ve got this all wrong,’ said Turner, a calming tone in his voice. ‘We’re all in this together.’

  Amelia smiled to herself, hearing a statement that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  ‘Andrew, you introduced me to her.’

  ‘I may have done in passing. I don’t recall.’

  ‘For crying out loud, you’re not at Prime Minister’s Questions now. You don’t recall – don’t be ridiculous,’ said Rylands, and Amelia could hear the increasingly aggressive edge in his voice. ‘Don’t bullshit me.’

  She crept forward until, standing in the drawing-room doorway, she could see the rage in both men’s eyes.

  ‘I know everything,’ Rylands continued. ‘The secrets you shared with her, the promises you made, the fact that you were fucking her long before I ever met her.’ Amelia watched Harvey move towards Andrew Turner, stopping only inches from his face. ‘And that you’re still fucking her, even now. I bet that’s a real turn-on. Maybe you should put that in your statement.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How can you know that?’

  ‘I might not be Prime Minister, but I do have people who tell me things.’

  ‘You’re in no position to be making threats, Harvey.’

  ‘I’m in every position. I could be sent down tomorrow. I know the promises you made.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Harvey, I was moving into Downing Street with my wife. What the hell did you think I was going to do? Move her in next door at Number Eleven? Anyway, what do you care? I passed her on to you, didn’t I?’

  Amelia saw the fierce passion in Harvey’s eyes.

  ‘This mess is of your making!’ Turner shouted. ‘I’m not getting you out of this one. I’m issuing the statement.’

  Fearing what Harvey might do next, Amelia stepped into the room.

  ‘Andrew, good evening,’ she said, wanting to radiate calm.

  ‘Amelia, hello,’ said the Prime Minister, clearly surprised by her entrance. ‘I didn’t realise you were here. May I say that, despite everything, somehow you still manage to look amazing.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Amelia, turning her cheek to the Prime Minister as he crossed the room to greet her. ‘Each day gets harder and harder,’ she continued, ‘but right now, I couldn’t care less what you or Harvey did with that woman. What I do care about is what happens next – to all of us. Threatening each other will get us nowhere.’

  She walked across the room and poured herself a glass of whisky, before sitting on the arm of one of the leather chairs.

  ‘Andrew, we understand this puts you in a horrendous position, but we have to deal with where we are. We’re getting near the end of the trial. We don’t expect any favours, but what we do ask is for you not to damage us. Wait until the verdict, and then begin your fight-back. We have to believe the evidence will deliver us the result we all want.’

  Amelia looked at her husband as he took another long drink from his glass.

  ‘We can ride this out. Harvey hasn’t set out to damage you, but we have to do everything we can to get the outcome we need in court. Once the trial is over and we have the right verdict, we can all move forward.’

  The room fell into silence.

  The two men looked at Amelia and then at each other. Leaning forward, she smiled.

  ‘Destroying each other is not the way out of this.’

  CHAPTER 18

  A PHOTOGRAPHER’S CAMERA slammed against the back window of the high-powered Tribeca Hotel’s SUV, as early the next morning Roscoe edged the car forward through the crowd of media and onlookers stationed outside the Old Bailey. A flash burst into life, illuminating the inside of the car as another camera lens crashed against the window.

  Looking in his rear-view mirror, Roscoe saw both Harvey Rylands and his wife flinch, turning momentarily towards each other. Inside the car Roscoe knew they were safe; outside the car, they would be on their own.

  Watching the couple during the journey from the hotel, he had sensed a growing tension between them. Each day of the trial had seen them appear together, but as the evidence was placed before the court, it seemed to him that it was becoming harder and harder for Mrs Rylands to remain the loyal wife, standing so valiantly by her man.

  Looking at her now, he saw a woman who was exhausted. It was two weeks since the Rylands had arrived at Tribeca; each day Amelia had lost more and more of her vitality. Even her shiny blonde hair had somehow lost its sheen.

  The requirement each day was for her to step from the car and portray her marriage as a happy one. How did she do it? Guilty or not, her husband had cheated on her remorselessly, without the slightest regard for her feelings.

  The media scrum outside the courthouse had reached an unprecedented level; what Roscoe saw could only be described as a frenzy. Questions about the Prime Minister’s relationship with Elegant Daniels were hurled at the car; fists were slammed onto its roof. His passengers were both hidden inside their own space; each so distant, each paying scant regard to the other.

  Until the vehicle stopped. And they stepped out onto
the courthouse steps.

  Harvey Rylands emerged, with his wife tightly clutching his arm – both of them vulnerable and, to all appearances, still desperately in love. Amelia Rylands once again standing loyally at her husband’s side, as they forged a path through the chaos and into the building.

  CHAPTER 19

  BEFORE THE FINAL witness for the defence was called, fatigue had briefly threatened to overwhelm Jessie Luck, as the trial drew on and she sat in the jury box gently massaging her knee. But as soon as Harvey Rylands was led from the dock and onto the stand, a bolt of electricity shot through the courtroom and Jessie joined everyone present in anticipating his evidence. She listened as he raised his right hand, swearing the oath, and she thought how condescending he sounded, for a man who needed to deliver the most convincing performance of his life.

  Humphrey Adams, QC, began his questioning by asking his client about his relationship with Elegant Daniels.

  ‘I cared for her deeply,’ said Rylands. ‘I think I probably still do. I’ve known her for over a year, and we have been intimate for much of that. I loved her. In my heart, I believe we loved each other.’

  ‘It has been suggested, Mr Rylands, that on the night of the attack upon Ms Daniels you had argued over your future?’

  ‘There is no point in me denying I have a temper; my wife could most certainly attest to that. But I have never been a violent man, and I am sure she would equally attest to that.’

  Jessie looked across at Amelia Rylands, who simply dropped her head, avoiding any eye contact with the court.

  ‘Ms Daniels and I did argue on the night of the attack. I wish we hadn’t – perhaps somehow it would have made things different – but we did. Elegant wanted to speak of our future, but while I loved her, I have a wife to whom I have been married for over twenty years, and this is not something to be thrown away lightly – if, in my mind, at all.’

  Jessie eased back in her chair. In her view, she didn’t hear a husband desperately in love, but one trapped in an obligation to maintain his marriage. Rylands continued his evidence, talking through his relationship with Ms Daniels: how he was happy to assist in supporting her financially; how they had enjoyed dinner together earlier in the evening on the night of the attack; and how he left her home shortly after 1 a.m.

  ‘You drove away from the parking lot, Mr Rylands?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And where did you go?’

  ‘I headed straight home. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive.’

  ‘And how did you feel at this point?’

  ‘I felt annoyed that we’d argued; frustrated about my relationship with Elegant. I needed to talk it through with someone.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Mr Adams. ‘And did you have anyone you were able to talk to?’

  ‘I did,’ said Rylands, pausing.

  ‘Go on, Mr Rylands?’

  ‘I made a telephone call.’

  Lifting his spectacles, Humphrey Adams looked inquisitively at his client and waited for him to continue.

  ‘I called my brother-in-law. Andrew Turner, the Prime Minister.’

  CHAPTER 20

  RELIEVED TO LEAVE the chaos of the courthouse behind him, Roscoe drove back through the busy central London streets, before pulling into the employee parking lot at the Tribeca Luxury Hotel. Turning into his reserved bay, he was surprised to see Maggie Owen, one of the hotel’s chambermaids, come running towards him.

  Instantly Roscoe could see that she was frantic.

  Waving her arms and gasping for air as she desperately tried to hold back her tears, she screamed at Roscoe to stop the car. Coming to an immediate stop and jumping from the vehicle, he saw make-up-stained tears streaking down her face.

  ‘Maggie, take a breath and tell me what’s wrong,’ he said.

  ‘You have to help,’ she cried desperately, rubbing the tears from her face, smearing her eye make-up even more as she did so.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Roscoe took hold of her hand and she started to lead him towards the hotel. ‘Stand still and tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘It’s Lily. She’s gone.’

  Lily was Maggie’s seven-year-old daughter. Roscoe had met her at the barbecue that the hotel hosted for all its employees and their families, the week before the grand opening. With her long black hair tied back in pink ribbons, Lily had reminded him of his own twin daughters.

  ‘I want you to tell me exactly what’s happened,’ he instructed, putting his arm around Maggie while walking her back to the employee entrance.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she sobbed. ‘Lily said she didn’t feel well this morning, and I didn’t want to take a day off work and she did have a bit of a temperature, so I said she could stay off school. But I said she had to come with me and sit in one of the staff lounges and practise her reading. I should have made her go to school – I know I should’ve. I was so stupid.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Maggie, we’ll find her,’ said Roscoe, thinking the child couldn’t have gone far. ‘So, you left her downstairs?’

  ‘Yes, you know what it’s like – there are people coming and going all the time in the main lounge. I said I would check back every half hour to see how she was doing.’

  ‘So when did you last go back and check?’

  ‘It must be twenty minutes ago. I thought I’d take her upstairs with me for a while. But she’s gone, Jon, gone!’

  Seeing the look of desperation on Maggie’s face, Roscoe knew exactly how she felt.

  ‘Let’s get downstairs and I’ll get a full search started. Have you spoken to Stanley?’

  ‘No, I’ve been looking on my own.’

  ‘Let me call him and he can head up the physical search. You know how impossible it is to get anywhere inside the hotel without the proper access.’

  Maggie stopped and turned. ‘I’ve done something stupid. I gave Lily my pass,’ she said, before continuing quickly, ‘I know I shouldn’t have and I know it’s against the rules, but I thought it would be easier. She could go to the bathroom if she needed to, and if she wanted to see me, she could just get into the elevator. That’s why I went back down. I needed my pass. God help me, what have I done?’

  Roscoe knew Maggie had acted only with the best intentions, but in that moment the search for Lily had become far more complicated. Now was not the time to be concerned with breaches in security, though, and as he headed inside, Roscoe called Stanley and instructed him to put in place a floor-by-floor search of all public areas of the hotel. With Maggie’s pass, Lily could access any one of the hotel’s forty floors, as well as the rooms her mum had been assigned that day.

  Leading Maggie into the hotel’s security control room, he explained that the best place for them to start was with the recorded security images from the past forty minutes.

  ‘If we can spot where Lily headed when she left the staff lounge, we’ll have her found in no time,’ he reassured her. ‘She won’t have gone far, Maggie, I’m sure.’

  With her sitting beside him in front of the security screens, Roscoe could feel Maggie holding her breath as he rolled back the images of the hallway outside the staff lounge. While the camera didn’t give a clear picture of the room itself, it did show the hallway leading away from the room.

  At first there was nothing but the empty hall.

  And then Maggie let out an agonising cry.

  Viewed from behind, walking down the hallway, her Queen Elsa backpack almost bigger than her, was Lily.

  Hand-in-hand with an unknown man.

  CHAPTER 21

  SITTING IN THE Old Bailey jury box, Jessie Luck listened attentively as the judge issued his final instructions to the jury. Humphrey Adams had completed his questioning of Harvey Rylands by entering into evidence the phone log from Rylands’ mobile phone, showing that a call had been made at 1.19 a.m. on the morning of the attack, to the Prime Minister’s private line in Downing Street. The call had lasted a little over four minutes, and Rylands claimed the conversation with his
brother-in-law, whom he regarded as a close friend, was to tell him how he’d argued with Elegant, leaving him at a loss as to the way forward in their relationship.

  What happened after that call? wondered Jessie.

  Humphrey Adams had pressed Rylands further on his friendship with the Prime Minister. It was a relationship that had lasted for more than thirty years, Rylands said, and had survived the death of the Prime Minister’s older half-sister, Barbara, his first wife. Upon her death, Rylands confirmed that he had inherited great wealth, through her business. Asked to speculate on the rubies that had become such a symbol in the case, Rylands said he believed they might have come from one of the mines he inherited at the time of his wife’s passing. The judge intervened when Adams asked Rylands how he believed the Prime Minister would have felt about Harvey inheriting such great wealth from Barbara, but in her mind Jessie had already answered that question.

  As the judge spoke directly to the jury, he stressed the need to consider only the direct evidence they had heard in his courtroom. They must not speculate on the actions of others not called to testify, or any actions not offered in evidence in the court. Any prior knowledge of the case, the people involved or information garnered from press reports or media speculation before they undertook their role as jurors, must also be disregarded. And he emphatically told them that any press coverage they had seen during the case must in no way influence the decision they were about to reach.

  Walking in silence with her fellow jurors, down the hallway at the rear of the court towards the jury room, Jessie felt the weight of the case sitting heavily on her. Arguments put forward by the defence had suggested other possible suspects for the attack. Elegant Daniels had had relationships with many other men, including the Prime Minister, who was intrinsically linked to the case; yet evidence had demonstrated that Harvey Rylands had been in her room on the night of the attack. Jessie was also aware that the video showing his car’s later return to the parking lot was unclear, but if it hadn’t been Rylands in the car, why had Elegant Daniels been so certain he was the man attacking her?