Authors: Barrie Turner
Seven days later, Harry Thompson met his solicitor again. He was in court for another remand hearing and, he was still without the services of a QC. Although he wasn’t aware of it himself, within the fraternity of Barristers in Chambers, nobody really wanted his case. Everybody saw it as almost hopeless plus, in their eyes, he had committed a cardinal sin when he sacked one of the few barristers prepared to take it on. Before the Hearing began Michael was waiting for him. He told him he would have a visitor later that day and he would arrange for him to meet Irene Yarwood QC. Irene Yarwood, after gaining her first class honours degree at Chester University had successfully completed her pupillage and she had been offered a junior partnership in chambers with a company called Krief Krief and Isaacs. Over a number of years, she had gained a reputation for taking on cases considered hopeless as well as anything else she could get her hands on. She refused to consider any implications on her career if she lost a case as in her opinion all that mattered was doing her utmost and the very level best for all her clients. Now that she had just taken silk, Michael considered her to be the best brief available and he urged Harry to talk to her in order to see whether or not she would agree to take the case. As the only other alternative was to accept a lawyer appointed by the Bar Council and that there really wasn’t any other viable option, Harry readily agreed to this and arrangements were made for a meeting at Walton later that day.”
He was already waiting in the interview room when she arrived, accompanied by his solicitor. Harry began to warm to her straight away. She was a small slim woman, no more than 5’ 2” with jet black hair. She had big blue eyes, which sparkled and lit up her rounded face whenever she smiled. She was smiling now as they were introduced and shook hands and Harry couldn’t help thinking that she looked nothing like a barrister, least of all one who was building up such a fearsome reputation.
As she spoke, Harry was acutely aware she was studying him intently, watching all of his body language and movements especially the way he sat, gently rocking himself on his chair with the front legs off the ground whilst looking at the ceiling. “Now then, Harry, we seem to have got ourselves into a proper mess haven’t we? Well, let me say before we begin I can’t promise you anything I can’t realistically deliver. At this stage, I wouldn’t dream of trying to falsely raise your hopes or your spirits, by giving you words of comfort such as I’m going to get you off. Far from it, I’ll defend you to the best of my ability and that’s it. In other words Harry, what you see now is what you get.”
“Over the next few weeks I’m going to have to get to know all about you. I’ll ask you questions you’ve probably been asked many times before and I’m telling you now I’ll ask you questions that will upset you and cause you considerable pain and, possibly embarrassment. You have to understand that, when I get you in court I want you to be absolutely word perfect. I certainly won’t expect to see or hear you floundering especially under cross examination by the opposition when they ask you awkward or embarrassing questions in an effort to upset or discredit you. I can assure you that with my help when we get to court, you’ll be able to stand up to everything they throw at you and you’ll answer all their questions calmly and without emotion. Remember this, I don’t want you breaking down and, feeling sorry for yourself. After all nobody outside of this room feels sorry for you. Before I go today I want to hear your story and I want to hear everything. You must leave nothing out. If you hit your girlfriend during a quarrel, whether she hit you, I want to know everything. When I put my questions to you I want an answer from you each and every time. Whenever I swear at you which I shall, you will not retaliate or get angry. When I talk to you and ask questions about your sex life and your sexual activities, I’ll use all the adjectives and phrases known to man that I can get my hands on. Remember, all the people in the courtroom have heard it all before. They’re familiar with all the gutter terminology and the prosecution will not be afraid of using any trick in the book when you’re in the witness box whereas, you, Harry Thompson, will be sailing in uncharted waters.
One and a half hours later, after hearing his story from the beginning of his ordeal, during which time she made copious notes, Irene Yarwood, accompanied by his solicitor, left him alone in the remand centre to contemplate and reflect upon life’s most recent chain of events.
In the capital city, the pot continued to simmer. The rumours were growing ever more persistent. With each passing day, there were calls for an unnamed Member to make a statement to the House and to offer the House an apology for misleading its Members on the subject of Angela Clarkson. Each time the subject came up, the Prime Minister would be on his feet, referring to his earlier reply given some weeks ago. Then he would go on to say that if the persons behind the rumours couldn’t offer any concrete evidence or substantiate the allegations, then they should put up or shut up. Alternatively he assured the House that if the allegations were true then he would ask the person involved to resign. In a concerted attempt to put an end to the matter, the Prime Minister suggested that Dennis Panter, the Member for Knutsford, should invite his journalistic source to persuade his editor to name the Member involved, bearing in mind that if they did, the Honourable Member involved would probably respond with the issue of a writ for libel. Obviously, the Prime Minister had no way of knowing at this stage if that latter part of the statement was true. His reasoning was simply that if the MP was named and shamed by the press then he would either have to sue or he would have to resign. In effect, it would save him the job of sacking him or getting rid of him whenever he carried out his next cabinet reshuffle. Whilst the Prime Minister felt more than comfortable with these exchanges, at least one member of the House felt distinctly uneasy and, each time the subject was mentioned, he cringed inwardly knowing his whole life was balancing on a knife edge. He was also very much aware that, whilst he was safe for the time being, he knew it would only last as long as he had the protection of his leader.
Over the next few weeks, Irene Yarwood had been extraordinarily busy. Besides her normal caseload she had involved and immersed herself in the defence of Harry Thompson. During this time, she and Harry Thompson had discussed all topics of his life with Diane Wilson, including all aspects of their sexual exploits. As a result, he was able to answer all questions in a cool, calm and collected manner. No matter what Miss Yarwood said or how it was put to him he had lost all sign of nerves and embarrassment. At the end of it all, Irene admitted that although she also found it an ordeal she felt confident Harry was at least prepared for anything the prosecution threw his way in an effort to provoke him. Throughout Harry’s ordeal, Irene had studied his body language intently. Now, it was time for her to delve a little deeper into the character of her client.
Once again, they were seated in the drab and dreary interview room.
“Harry,” she commanded, “you and I, together with rest of your defence team, have to face facts. Don’t look away when I ask you this. I want you to look me straight in the eye and tell me honestly did you kill either of these two women?”
Without hesitation, he looked straight at her and answered. “No, I did not.”
She paused for a moment before continuing, “Concerning your association with Diane Wilson you were the last person to see her before her death. You admitted to having had sex with her and then, after a quarrel, she storms off into the night only to fall prey to her killer. She vanishes without trace. After leaving your house nobody but the killer sees her and your DNA fingerprints are all over her. Without finding the killer we only have a slight chance if we have any chance at all. Then there’s Angela Clarkson. Agreed, there’s only circumstantial evidence to go on but being honest, it’s still quite formidable.”
Harry knew what was coming next. She was going to ask him to plead insanity and he was determined to get in first. “Don’t even think about it Miss Yarwood. If I did it I’d know I’d done it but I didn’t do it. Furthermore I’m not insane and I won’t allow you to use that as a defence on my behalf.”
During this session she had been intrigued by his habits whilst discussing all aspects of his case, especially the way he rocked on his chair or wrapped his arms around his body. Deep down, although she thought that in some way he might simply be re-assuring himself. At the same time, she couldn’t stop herself thinking “what if?” as she also recalled her psychology studies under Professor Lambert before she switched to law, when he attributed this, or similar behaviour, to a person attempting or endeavouring to control an interview.
Whilst trying to dismiss these thoughts from her mind, Irene had paused for a moment, and, at first, Harry thought he had won the point until she retorted, “No Harry that’s where you’re wrong. Schizophrenics usually have no idea they have committed crimes and they can quite easily convince themselves they haven’t done anything as they flit between their personalities.”
This time Harry looked her straight in the eyes and said calmly, “Now you tell me do you think I did it? Do you think I’m mad?”
Without a moment’s hesitation his counsel replied. “Harry, I’m being paid to defend you not to sit in judgment upon you. My duty to you is to give your case my best shot. After that, it’s up to the jury. The only thing I can add is that along with your family I have to believe in you.” With that, she scooped up her papers and belongings. Then, with a quick goodbye, she left the room.
Paula Harris was sitting on the floor. That’s where her husband had left her after another blazing row. Carefully, and hesitantly, she put her hand to her cheek, which still stung from the blow she had taken. Still badly shaken, she got to her feet, and made her way to the bathroom. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror. There was no need. This had happened so many times before that she knew instinctively there wouldn’t be any tell-tale signs, especially after a few hours. “In the morning,” she murmured, “I know what I’ll do – take a trip into Chester and have a look around the jewellery shops. Maybe I can spot a watch similar to the one shown on the television and, with an idea of the price, perhaps I can find it on his visa or, access card. With that she was up and running taking the stairs two at a time whilst shouting to herself, “Christ almighty, why didn’t I think of this before. If the bastard used his card to pay for it then I should be able to find it and when I do, I’ll bloody well prostitute him the little bastard. She was rummaging through the visa statements at speed looking at the prices of the articles bought. Suddenly, one item caught her eye Harrods £350.00, and the date. “Yes, yes,” she exclaimed excitedly “that fits.” She forced herself to calm down for she knew she had to plan her next moves very carefully. This time, she was going to make doubly sure the slippery bastard did not escape again.
“By God,” she vowed, “I’ll prostitute the little bleeder in bloody good style this time!”
She poured herself a large vodka and tonic whilst she thought about her next move. She was well aware that she couldn’t ring up the store for the account was in his name only and, because of this, she knew she couldn’t obtain the information from the bank either but, there was a way. There had to be. As she mixed herself another large vodka and tonic, she reasoned she had no other alternative except to contact Quentin Russell. With his contacts, he must be able to find out but she knew that there was a snag. This time there would be a price to pay. She would have to reveal her identity and that of her husband. It would have to come out; there was no alternative.
She sat alone in the dark. The shadows cast from the flickering log fire danced around the walls making intricate patterns but tonight, she took no real interest because, through her tears, she could hardly see them. She was crying now because she knew she couldn’t go through with it. Once again, that cheating, lying bastard of a husband looked like getting away with it and all because she was too afraid to reveal her own identity to Quentin Russell.
Quentin Russell reposed in his comfortable armchair. However he wasn’t relaxing at the moment. He had just finished speaking with Robin Millward, a Liverpool based crime reporter, who worked for one of the parent company’s papers. Robin had been asked to nose around Bromborough and in particular the Roundhead Hotel in order to ascertain whether or not Timothy Harris could be placed with Angela Clarkson. Robin soon discovered that the politician had been registered at the Roundhead Hotel and that he had shared a couple of drinks with the assistant manager. There the trail seemed to go cold until he met Detective Sergeant West. It was from this gentleman he learned that an unnamed person had been exonerated and cleared from police enquiries connected to the Angela Clarkson murder enquiry. The detective told him that he couldn’t add anything further due to the fact that all other details were “classified.”
Quentin rang his editor with this information and between them, it was agreed that not a word of this would be published in any of the publishing group’s papers until the time was deemed appropriate. For now it was considered to be more than sufficient to let Dennis Panter ask the Prime Minister whether or not Timothy Harris was the Member who had been questioned by Merseyside CID during the investigation into the death of Angela Clarkson, the Liverpool prostitute. Quentin and his editor knew this was just enough to keep the pot simmering until they had enough to break the story.
With that little matter out of the way, he was now contemplating his next move. For some time this evening he’d been thinking about ringing Mrs. Harris at her home. He had the perfect pretence following his last two telephone conversations. When she answered he would simply say, “Rose.” He reasoned that he wouldn’t need to say anything else. If the phone went dead that would be a confirmation alternatively, if there was a sharp intake of breath at the other end, that would also suffice as a confirmation. In Quentin Russell’s mind it was all beginning to fit. Timothy Harris was the Member of Parliament for the area. He was in the area at or about the time the girl was killed. A prominent person had been excluded from the investigation. It had to be somebody close enough to that person to be able to point the finger in the first place and there couldn’t be anyone closer to Timothy Harris than his wife. He obtained the telephone number and began to dial.
Paula Harris had stopped crying and she was gradually regaining her composure when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver and cradling it in her neck, she whispered quietly, “Hello.”
There was the briefest moment of silence. Then she heard the word “Rose”…
She was absolutely dumbstruck and she couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. Slowly the phone slipped from her grasp as she fainted and lapsed into unconsciousness. When she came to a few moments later, she replaced the receiver and frantically tried to focus her mind. She knew she didn’t have much time and that she would have to telephone Quentin Russell if only to find out what he knew and, how he intended to use it.
Snatching the phone from the hook, she dialled Quentin Russell’s mobile number. She didn’t have to wait. The call was answered with great rapidity, and she heard his voice softly whispering, “Rose is that you Rose? Please don’t hang up let me explain.”
Without being abrupt or cutting him short she interrupted him in order to explain her findings and suspicions regarding the Harrods’ entry on her husband’s visa account. Then she confided her fears concerning the effect this information would have on the lives of her and her husband.
Quentin assured her he would treat any information in the strictest confidence and that nothing would be published without her consent. He also promised that once he acquainted his editor of the position, he felt certain he would also comply with her wishes. In actual fact, it went a lot deeper than that. Quentin Russell and his editor were well aware that they couldn’t publish anything that might have a bearing on the outcome of the trial due to commence shortly. Paula thanked him for his compassion and, understanding. She gently replaced the receiver and slowly mounted the stairs to sleep a deeply troubled sleep.
Despite his promise, which he fully intended to keep, together with his informant’s identity, Quentin Russell could hardly contain himself. With the information just laid before him he knew that if the Harrods’ entry on Timothy Harris’s visa bill related to a watch given to Angela Clarkson then, obviously, Timothy Harris had lied to the House. On its own that was bad enough but this went a lot deeper for it was also patently obvious that there had been a cover up to protect the identity of Timothy Harris from being revealed. Without a moment’s further delay, Quentin rang his editor and put the facts before him, at the same time ensuring he was fully aware of the guarantee given to Paula Harris. That night neither man slept as each of them was totally preoccupied with events about to happen.
In Walton Gaol, there was no thought of sleep for certain people either. Officer Fitzgerald was trying desperately hard not to lose his temper with Royston Chambers. Roy wouldn’t agree to leave his request until the next day. He was also adamant that what he had to say could only be divulged in the presence of Detective Inspector Peter Taylor and Detective Sergeant Jim West. Eventually the Inspector was contacted and Chambers was allowed to speak to him. As a result of their conversation, a car, carrying the two officers, was soon speeding on its way to the prison in order to interview Roy Chambers. When they arrived the prisoner, accompanied by a warder, was waiting in the interview room.
Dispensing with all formalities, Inspector Taylor asked the prisoner what all the panic was about to which, Chambers replied, “Harry Thompson that’s what it’s about. He confessed that he did the Clarkson girl as well as his girl friend. He just came right out with it. Right out of the blue he just came up real close to me and said, “Roy, you had it dead right all along. You know it really was me that did it but what bothers me is, how on earth did you know?” At first I didn’t know what to say because I was getting a bit afraid, especially as he’s in for topping two of them, but then it got like I had to think of something to say sort of to pacify him. So I just said that it always seemed to me that he had a lot on his mind, as if something was bothering him, and if I left him long enough, he would be only too glad to talk to someone about it.”
For the detectives this was news they could hardly believe. There could be no doubt about it now. Thompson’s goose was well and truly cooked, but there was a lot more work to be done as they both realised that they needed more than the bare bones of a confession. For a start, they needed to find out where Thompson had met Clarkson and whether or not he was a client of hers. They also needed to know where he had killed the girl and how he got the body to the ditch without being seen. Lastly, there was the watch. Thompson had to say that he hadn’t really found it. He had to say he simply pocketed the watch and, realising later he might have to account for it, what better way than to hand it in at the local station and claim it himself in three months’ time. Regarding Diane Wilson, all they needed there was confirmation that he had struck a violent blow to her jaw before strangling her. Before they left they made absolutely certain Roy Chambers was going to be word perfect. With start of the trial only three weeks away, arrangements were made for both the officers to return the next day in order to take down the full details of Thompson’s confession. Before they left Inspector Taylor told Chambers that although they appreciated what he had done it was vital to get the information requested and if he was successful, it would not go unnoticed by the authorities.