Authors: Elle Wynne
“You’ll have to help me up to speed on the case,” she continues. “I know the basics, but I’d appreciate a more detailed outline from someone who really knows all of the intimate details.”
Was that my imagination or did she put an unnecessary emphasis on the word ‘intimate’? Whatever intonation she used, it seems to have captured Andrew’s attention. I turn to him.
“These are for you. They’re paginated to fit in with existing bundle.”
He flicks through them briefly.
“Thanks. I see I’ll have to keep an eye on you. Sam was never this organsied,” he says, touching my hand for slightly longer than strictly necessary as he takes them from me.
“If you give me your email address, I’ll send you a copy of my notes at the end of play each night,” Serena offers, practically elbowing me out if the way in her haste to draw attention back to herself.
“Thanks,” he replies.
The court doors open at exactly ten fifteen and Corr sweeps back in with Quinn in his wake. Corr looks even less impressed than normal and the cause becomes apparent as they come into earshot.
“Oh come on George, where’s the harm in inviting the jury to take a field trip to the scene of the murder?” Quinn teases, “They’d love a chance to nose round the Hobbs mansion, root through the wardrobes. It’d be like Come Dine With Me.”
The expression on Corr’s face is murderous. He ignores Quinn and turns to me. “I trust everything is in place to empanel the jury? I don’t need to remind you that everything needs to run exactly to schedule this time.”
I nod. I’ve decided to say as little as possible to him, as he definitely isn’t the chatty type. Quinn and Andrew are chatting happily to our left and I feel a slight pang that we don’t have that kind of working relationship. My feelings of self-pity are cut short as I notice another group walk into the courtroom.
Ryan Hobbs is shorter than I thought he would be. His head is remarkably square shaped with military short blonde hair. His build is more suggestive of a rugby player than a footballer. He also looks considerably older than his thirty-four years. Today he’s wearing an exquisitely cut Armani suit with a pale pink shirt and a striped tie. He’s unsurprisingly better looking in person that in his police mugshots. He glances round the courtroom, familiar with the process and parties after two previous encounters. He stops when he gets to me, noticing an unknown face amidst the sea of lawyers. I turn away, unwilling to engage in any sort of contact with him.
He is flanked by two representatives from his solicitors and a tall, thin female with short black hair. Oh damn it. I should have guessed. My head is spinning with snippets of information that I’ve subconsciously processed over the last few weeks. If Lucinda is here, in this trial, that means her fiancé must be too. Given the total lack of suitable men present in the courtroom, there is only one candidate.
My conclusion is confirmed as Lucinda runs over to Rivers, puts her arms around his neck and kisses his on his lips. He pulls away, looking thoroughly mortified at the public display of affection. Quinn gives a booming laugh and pats his junior heavily on the back.
“Lucinda! Darling! So good to see you again. How’s your father? Still printing his own money I imagine?”
She tosses her glossy mane.
“Oh you know Daddy, always busy.”
“Bet he needs to be to pay for the wedding of the decade!” says Quinn, nudging Rivers in the ribs. He blushes and diverts his gaze. “So, you’re on board for the whole of the trial then? So good of Rushton Palmer to let you come along to see some real court action. Your father was saying how you’d been struggling to find work before he stepped in.”
Ah ha! I knew it. In-house consultant my arse. She’s desperately trying to change the subject now, but it’s too late. I try to conceal a smirk, but Corr notices. If it wasn’t for the fact that he has no sense of humour whatsoever I’d swear that there’s a ghost of a smile on his face.
The court usher hurries to her desk and indicates that the Judge is ready to start. Gosh, I shouldn’t be so gauche, but this is exciting. We all make our way to our places and wait for his entrance.
I look across to see with some satisfaction that Lucinda has been relegated to the public gallery, now full of press and nosey onlookers. I give her a cheery wave, just before the court rises to its feet to greet the arrival of The Honourable Mr. Justice Wynne. The only indication that anyone other than Lucinda noticed my gesture comes from behind me, in the form of a loud snort from Serena.
Chapter Ten
The trial begins as any other would. Fifteen members of the public are shepherded into the courtroom. They look wide-eyed and nervous and they stare around their new environment with a mix of wonder and fear. Given the huge public profile of the trial, most of them are openly staring at Hobbs.
The selection begins; the court usher pulls twelve names from a box containing the full fifteen and the chosen few are directed to take a seat in the jury box. I take a note of the names of the panel in my notebook and briefly glance up to see if there is anyone there I recognise. There isn’t and the twelve are successfully selected without incident.
The Judge turns and speaks to the jury. He’s a somewhat familiar face to the senior members who practice on this circuit, but as he normally only deals with heavy-duty work I rarely get to appear in front of him. His face is heavily lined and his voice has a mesmerising gravelly texture. He’s known for being fair, wise and having a brain the size of a small planet.
He reminds the jury of their role during the trial and that they are only to discuss the case with their fellow jurors, not to post things on Facebook and Twitter (you’d be amazed how often this happens) and should anything happen to them that causes their concern, to draw it to the attention of the jury bailiff straight away. A few of the jurors look alarmed at this point. The Judge laughs.
“Please don’t worry, it’s a standard direction I have to give you. It’s like when you fly on an airplane. You get told about the inflatable chute, but you very rarely ever have to use it. Just remember, if anything concerns you during the course of the trial, I’m your flight steward, so to speak.”
This prompts a few nervous titters from the jury, but visibly relaxes them.
After a nod from the Judge, Corr gets to his feet and turns to face them. He opens the case, instantly capturing the attention of the eager faces watching him. He’s a master storyteller and is delicately weaving the known facts of the case around the inferences he wants the jury to draw when they hear other pieces of evidence.
His voice is hypnotising and I can almost see them being charmed before my eyes, like snakes dancing to the hum of a well-tuned flute. By the time he is finishes a couple of hours later, I know that there isn’t a single person out of the twelve who isn’t already convinced Hobbs is guilty. I feel a swell of pride to be connected to such a great advocate.
Eventually, we break for lunch mid-way through the evidence of the first witness, Helen Drew. She was the cleaner who found Marina’s body that fateful morning floating in their pool. She’s spent the past hour reliving every gory moment of her discovery.
Having arrived at the house at 9AM to start her usual shift, she noticed that the home was unusually silent. A brief check of the garages revealed that Hobbs’ car was conspicuous by its absence and the marital bed appeared not to have been slept in. After concluding that the pair had gone away for the night she started her extensive cleaning routine as normal, noticing that aside from the normal carnage, there were a large number of clothes missing from Marina’s walk in wardrobe and a bottle of champagne had been smashed on the kitchen floor.
It was only when she began to clean some pans at the sink she happened to look out into the garden and saw what she assumed was a bin bag in the pool that she went outside.
When we come back after lunch, we’ll hear the rest. It must have been terrible for the poor woman, I mean imagine going to fish out some rubbish from your employers’ luxury garden accessory and ending up fishing out your employer.
I switch off my laptop and trip over the power cord as I step out from behind my bench. I’m not that hungry so I think I’ll spend the hour-long break looking over some of the photographs taken at the scene.
The others file out and I open up the folder that contains them. I locate the picture of the broken bottle of champagne. The glossy green bottle has been smashed into a million pieces on the black and white chequerboard kitchen floor but parts of the pale yellow label are still visible. It’s an expensive brand that I recognise from the odd party I’ve attended. Sebastian is a real lover of champagne and spends ages poring over which bottles to buy to add to his collection in the garage. I’d like to say I agree with him, but to be honest, as long as it’s cold, wet and alcoholic, I’ll usually drink anything. I turn over a few pages, marveling at the size of the house, the elaborate decor, the size of the huge plasma televisions in every room, including the downstairs loo. The next few photographs show the basement floor, styled to include a gym, games room and wine cellar. I study the bottles with interest, drooling at the various bottles of wine that are stacked up against the wall. Having read what I have about Marina, I really wouldn’t be surprised to find a bottle of Lambrini in there somewhere.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn round. Serena is holding out a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate.
“Peace offering?” she says as I take the cup from her hands “I’m sorry for being a grade A bitch. That was a really nice thing of you to do for me earlier.”
I take a sip and consider her words. She continues.
“I know it was my fault, I just can’t believe I was that stupid. I just couldn’t accept I’d fucked up that badly. Please forgive me.”
I’m not a creature who enjoys confrontation outside of court and I cave in easily, my earlier anger forgotten.
“On one hand, I can’t deal with being at war with both you and Lucinda at the same time anyway.” I say, enjoying the creamy drink “But, if this was a serious apology then you’d have come up with more than just a hot beverage.”
She grins at me and produces a Twix from her handbag and hands it to me. I unwrap it and hand her a finger.
“You know me too me too well, but for the record, the next time you call me a bitch I’m going to phone up every single one of your wedding suppliers and cancel every order you’ve placed.”
She pales slightly.
“You wouldn’t!” she gasps.
“Hopefully, you’ll never need to find out.” I say, taking a mouthful of my chocolate. She mirrors me and we spend a happy minute chewing together. Our companionable silence is rudely broken by the arrival of Lucinda who looks at us with an expression of contempt.
“Healthy lunch I see ladies?” she says “No wonder you’ve both put on so much weight since Bar school if this is how you choose to dine”
“Oh piss off and get a job,” snarls Serena and I choke on my last mouthful of biscuit as I laugh at the look on Lucinda’s face. I’m still coughing and spluttering when Corr returns. He shoots me a disapproving look before taking his seat and turning his back to me, his posture perfect as always.
Miss Drew resumes her place in the witness box and with the help of Corr, picks up the story. The whole court listens, entranced by her dulcet Northern tones. We all know what is coming but yet with every step closer we get to her terrible discovery I’m sure everyone in the courtroom is still hoping for a happy ending. Sadly, none comes. Her voice is quiet yet steady.
“I was scrubbing at the Le Creuset when something caught my eye. I looked out of the window in front of me and saw something in the pool.”
“Did you know at the time what it was?” asks Corr, gently.
“No,” she replies, tears streaming down her face. “I just saw that it was black. I thought it was rubbish, you know a bin bag. It, she, was just floating on the top.”
“Was the back door locked when you went out?”
“Yes. I opened it and walked the short distance to the pool. As I got closer I realised that it was black fabric, not plastic so I grabbed the net we used to scoop off the leaves. She, she was really heavy, it took me a while before I could bring her to the shallow end and get her onto the side.”
“What was Mrs Hobbs wearing?”
“A long black winter coat over a pair of dark jeans and a black jumper.”
“What about on her feet?”
“Boots. I think they were black,” she says.
“Was that what you considered her usual attire?” he questions.
She gives a sorrowful laugh.
“No, far from it. Marina’s dress sense was usually a bit, well, out there”
Corr pauses.
“Members of the jury, could you please turn to the fourth tab in the first exhibit bundle please? This should begin at page 16.”
Everyone in court flips open the folder and finds the relevant page. I’m familiar with the photographs that greet the court; various cuttings from lifestyle magazines of Marina, showing her dressed in outfits that would give Jodie Marsh a run for her money. One cutting shows Marina on an outing to Tesco wearing a creation that would be better suited to Strictly Come Dancing, her face alight, clearly delighting in the press attention that her outlandish ensemble would surely generate.
A photograph from her 30th birthday shows her dancing on the table of a bar wearing a frontless, backless mini dress in lime green that clashes horribly with her orange skin. Her long blonde extensions completed the look. I remember when this picture was in the press at the time, Serena and I spent ages bitching about her. Looking at Marina’s happy, open face I now feel terribly guilty that I judged her based on her fashion choices.
“Is that the type of outfit that you would normally see your employer in?”
“Yes. Mrs Hobbs loved her clothes, she always said she dressed to make herself smile.”
God, now I feel even worse.
“So what happened next?” Corr asks.
“I started to scream when I realised it was Mrs Hobbs. I tried to wake her up, but it was too late. I could see that her face was all purple and bloated so I called the ambulance and they got there pretty much straight away.”