The Whole Truth by Hunter, Cara (ebook reader with internet browser .TXT) 📗

there’s a minute nod of the head – it’s almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Her words say one thing, but her body says something else. In general, her physical composure is pretty impressive, but a micro-gesture like that, it’s beyond the control of the conscious mind. Even if the mind in question does belong to an Oxford professor.’

‘So you think she does remember how the dress got damaged, she just doesn’t want to say so?’

‘That would be my guess, yes.’

‘But when she says she can’t remember any physical contact with Morgan, that’s genuine?’

‘Yes,’ he says slowly, but he’s frowning now, and so am I. There’s something here that’s not adding up.

Gow hesitates then sits forward. ‘Do you by any chance have Morgan’s tape?’

* * *

* * *

Adam Fawley

9 July 2018

11.52

I load the disk and we watch, and then Gow rewinds it and plays it again, before pressing pause, sitting back and giving me an enquiring look. And now I know what I’m looking for, I can see it myself. Marina Fisher isn’t the only one who isn’t telling the whole truth. There’s something about that night Caleb Morgan doesn’t want to admit either. To me, to his girlfriend, perhaps even to himself.

I just have to find out what it is.

There’s a knock at the door.

Quinn.

‘Sorry to barge in, boss, but there are some people downstairs to see you.’

I frown. ‘Can’t you deal with it?’

He shakes his head. ‘Tried that. They’re not having it.’

He hands me a couple of business cards. Thick, textured paper stock, a confident, understated logo. A City law firm so prestigious even I’ve heard of them. And these people are both partners. I was expecting a top-end Oxford outfit but Petra Newson has gone straight for SWAT.

‘OK,’ I say, ‘show them into the first-floor meeting room, will you?’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re putting them in the cheap seats?’

I give him a look. ‘We don’t want them getting too comfortable, do we?’

* * *

‘Anything interesting?’

Baxter looks up. Somer’s standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

He gestures at the phone. ‘Ev was right about the prosecco. Marina Fisher buys her wine by the case from Berry Brothers & Rudd. She also spends at least a grand a month on clothes and has over ten thousand Twitter followers, how’s that for starters?’

Somer nods. ‘Doesn’t surprise me. Any of it.’ She seems distracted, fiddling with the end of her hair.

‘Apart from that,’ says Baxter, ‘I haven’t got much. Though as far as I can see there wasn’t anything going on between Morgan and Fisher before all this blew up.’

Somer moves round and stands in front of him. ‘What difference would that make?’

She’s staring at him, her fists clenched, and he blinks; where the hell has this come from? It’s not like her. ‘It’s just that –’

‘You think if you’re in a relationship with someone you don’t get to say no? Is that it?’

Baxter’s gone red now; he can sense Asante out of the corner of his eye. He’d been typing but he isn’t any more. He’s staring at them. The room is gradually falling silent.

‘Of course not. But it can make a difference – in court – you know that – look what happened with that Met case –’

‘I don’t believe this,’ she says, turning on her heel and walking away. ‘I don’t fucking believe it.’

Baxter stares after her then looks across at Asante. ‘Did I miss something?’

Asante shrugs. ‘Search me.’

* * *

Adam Fawley

9 July 2018

12.18

The woman is in a tailored dress, the man in an open-neck white shirt and one of those slim royal-blue suits that seem to be the thing these days. They rise as I enter and we shake hands.

‘Meredith Melia,’ says the woman as I take my seat, ‘and this is my colleague Patrick Dunn. We’re representing Caleb Morgan.’

‘Thank you for the information, but I’m not sure why you’re here. Mr Morgan is the victim of an alleged crime, he doesn’t need “representation”.’

She smiles. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate that Mr Morgan’s family are very concerned that he receive the best possible advice and support.’

‘He’s been offered the assistance of an Independent Sexual Violence Adviser, and he has a dedicated police point of contact. The whole team is working extremely hard on his behalf. I’m not sure what other sort of support Mr Morgan needs that his family can’t provide themselves.’

Another smile. ‘It’s not that simple, though, is it, Inspector? This is a very unusual situation and the issues are both complex and exceptionally sensitive. The family is particularly concerned that Mr Morgan’s privacy should be protected.’

‘You can rest assured that we will treat Mr Morgan with the same respect and consideration that we give everyone else in his position, male or female, and regardless of who their “family” are.’

The lawyers exchange a glance.

‘Perhaps you could take us through the evidence you have assembled thus far?’

‘No.’

‘You’re refusing to do that?’

I sit back. ‘I’m under no obligation to. And if, in due course, I reach a point where I do want to have that conversation, I will have it with Mr Morgan. Whether he wants any of you in the room at the time will be entirely up to him.’

The woman frowns. ‘We were assured of your cooperation –’

‘Really? By whom?’

She opens her mouth to reply but I hear Dunn clear his throat.

‘We’re all on the same side, Inspector. I appreciate you don’t particularly like a bunch of rogue tanks turning up on your lawn but we’re not here to trip you up, get under your feet or generally make your life any harder than it already is. But it strikes us – and we hope you agree – that a policy of full and open communication would minimize the possibility of anything untoward appearing in the press, and make a successful outcome a lot more likely.’

I’m tempted to ask whether their client has also been adhering to that ‘full and open policy’ of theirs, because right now, I wouldn’t bet on it.

Dunn looks at the