Post Mortem by Gary Bell (inspirational books for students .TXT) 📗

least Lady Allen will remember me,’ Zara said. ‘What do you think will happen with Charli? Should we go and see her or something? Tell her what’s going on?’

‘I can’t tell her what’s going on when I have no idea myself. We never covered this at Bar school.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I guess not. What do you think will happen now?’

I shrugged. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’

Garrick wasn’t in the courtroom when we arrived, but Linford was. He came towards us grinning. I wondered if he’d stopped grinning once at any point over the past few hours.

‘How?’ I asked. ‘How did you know?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘getting shot tends to break a young man’s loyalties.’

‘Omar Pickett,’ Zara said. ‘He talked?’

‘Sang is more like it. Everything he’d heard about these so-called Macey twins running things and a garage in Hackney Wick, the poison at the prison, you name it. He didn’t know about Deacon Walker’s death, of course, but he did claim that earlier this year, right before the raid at the Alex, a couple of his gangmates were sent to those allotments on Low Hall Lane with an unusual errand. Something he didn’t think much of at the time.’

‘Which was?’ I asked.

‘To plant a certain weed behind the fence there. Looks as if they were playing the long game on this, using Charli Meadows to cover their arses before this ever began. We’ve had eyes on Roth all morning. To tell you about it this morning, and to take Pickett’s statement officially, would’ve brought about a legal obligation to contact Israel’s solicitor, and with his solicitor being Roth, well …’

‘Israel?’ Zara asked. ‘Did Omar mention Andre?’

‘You could say that.’ He was beaming. ‘We’ve been busy over the last couple of hours, Ms Barnes. Searches of the Meadows garage have dredged up hundreds of pages of legal papers stored in Danny’s personal locker. Front sheets relating to Lydia Roth’s cases set on top of blanks. We’ve also recovered the papers from her client over in Court 8, which follow the same pattern: one true case paper on top of a bundle of blanks. They haven’t been analysed yet, but I’d bet your earnings they’re coated. Forensics have also found traces of organic plant material on the grinding tools in Danny’s locker. We don’t know anything for sure yet, but they’re saying the traces are purple in colour and incredibly toxic.’

‘Wolfsbane,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘That’s not all. Lady Allen issued us with a fresh European arrest warrant for Roy Macey.’

‘Great,’ I said, ‘though I’m not sure what use that will be when Interpol have been hunting him for the past twenty years.’

‘That’s the best part! We’ve already found him!’

‘Roy Macey?’ I asked in disbelief.

Zara gasped. ‘I don’t believe it! Where was he?’

‘Right here in London,’ Linford chuckled, ‘sitting on his daughter’s mantelpiece.’

‘What?’ I said. ‘Her mantelpiece?’

‘His ashes!’ Zara said. ‘Don’t tell me he was dead to begin with?’

Linford nodded. ‘For years, we reckon. They used his name as a sort of …’

‘A brand,’ I said. ‘They used their father’s name like a brand.’

‘Exactly.’ He shook his own head. ‘I’ve got to say, I didn’t see this coming when I arrested Omar Pickett three months ago.’

‘What about the Cutthroats?’ Zara asked. ‘They’ll be looking for revenge.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘We’ll keep an eye on things for now, but without the Maceys holding them together, I imagine they’ll go back to their old ways soon enough. Stabbing and shooting each other for a few yards of extra territory. I’d avoid E10 if I were you.’

‘And what about Charli Meadows?’ I asked. ‘What happens now?’

‘I’ve briefed Harlan Garrick. I think you’d better hear it from him.’ Linford checked his watch. ‘I think it’s time.’

At that moment, Garrick blundered in through the doors and collapsed into his seat without meeting my eye. Zara slipped to the back of the room as Lady Allen returned to the bench and the court was called into session.

‘So, gentlemen,’ she said, looking every bit as perplexed as I was feeling. ‘What do we do now?’

I showed my hands; I had nothing.

Garrick stood slowly, apparently forcing himself upright. ‘My Lady, a great deal has been happening since court rose a couple of hours ago.’

‘Yes,’ she said, nodding, ‘I have seen my lawn, Mr Garrick.’

‘Quite.’ He coughed into his fist. ‘I have been fully briefed by Detective Inspector Linford. For operational reasons, I cannot repeat everything he told me, but for the purposes of this trial …’ He hesitated, swallowing something unpleasant. ‘My Lady, I have been instructed by DI Linford – instructions that have been confirmed by the Crown Prosecution Service at the highest level – that we are to offer no evidence against the defendant, Charli Meadows, in this case.’

I laughed out loud; just one burst, which sent a visible shudder through Garrick’s body.

From the dock behind me, a single sob answered.

‘All right,’ Allen said. ‘Well, since the defendant is still in the charge of the jury, we had better get them in for their verdict.’

The jury was brought into the room and, once seated, Allen addressed them.

‘Members of the jury,’ she said, ‘you were in court this morning to witness the extraordinary scenes. As a result of this, and of other matters resolved by subsequent inquiries, the prosecution have decided to offer no evidence against Miss Meadows. While this is a decision I wholly agree with, I cannot legally release the defendant as she is in your charge. I am therefore going to appoint one of your number to stand up and return a verdict of not guilty. Juror Number 6. As you are in the foreperson’s chair, you will have the honour. Stand up, please.’

The elderly Caribbean lady in chair number 6 rose to her feet, looking confused.

‘So,’ Allen smiled, ‘do you the jury, as directed by me, return a verdict of not guilty in this case?’

The juror nodded. ‘Um, yes, My Lady. Not guilty.’

‘Perfect. Then I formally return the verdict of not guilty. Does that conclude our business