Page 133 of Dissection of a Murder
We turn Jack’s shirt inside out and back to front to corroborate the story he was having sex when Anton knocked on the door. Wealso need to locate a struggle in the kitchen, so I pour Coca-Cola down his T-shirt and leave the remainder of the bottle spilling onto the floor.
I’m on autopilot now. I’ve crossed a line and there’s no going back.
One thing that works well in serious trials is intrigue. So I wipe my prints off the kettlebell and place it back in its doorstop position. It’ll look as if I was trying to hide it, and in doing so, slipped up; a seasoned criminal like Jack would never make that mistake. But a poor, panicked woman would. Jurors love trying to figure out these kinds of things. This theory will be corroborated by Jack presenting as an “honest criminal” at trial; we’ll agree to the jury knowing about his previous convictions under the guise of having nothing to hide.
I spray some perfume in Jack’s bedroom. It’s vital that a woman’s presence is hinted at, but not enough that the prosecution investigates it. It needs to be appropriately pitched so when Jack does the big reveal at trial, it makes the prosecution look incompetent and Jack’s story 100 percent plausible.
Jack tells me Quinn came to see him at Temptation the day of the murder and that he led him into the only room with CCTV. Incredibly, I made reference to this room in my conference notes at the last trial. I will use this as a vehicle to make our knowledge of it believable to the solicitor. He also tells me there will be CCTV footage of Quinn being aggressive with him the week prior from Diamond Lounge. I’ll admit this to evidence, but it’ll have to be done after Jack’s evidence, for maximum impact. Jack must hint at this incident when he’s being cross-examined, which will allow me to introduce it in reexamination.
The prosecution must not be told the truth about Lewis until trial. It isvitalthat this be the first time Eddie hears about Quinnkilling his son. I’m hoping he has an explosive reaction and will attempt to assault Quinn in court. Chaos recalibrates a jury, and it becomes more about them and less about you.
Taking Quinn down will be the key to winning this trial.
Just before the jury retire to consider their verdict, I’ll collect the phone from Audrey’s house and anonymously send the police the video of Quinn killing Lewis. It’ll be admitted as last-minute evidence and corroborate everything Jack has said. I change the PIN of his phone to something only I would know.
After what feels like seconds but also hours, I look down at Anton on the floor. Planning how to get away with the murder of a man—a judge—who isn’t even dead yet is a new low, even for me. There’s one aspect I daren’t bring myself to think about.
The CPS will probably instruct Julian to prosecute. Going up against him in a murder trial frightens me more than anything, but the alternative is unimaginable.
I will do whatever it takes to win.
After thirty minutes, Anton’s breathing becomes shallow. He starts gurgling. It sounds like he has blood in his airway.
“I don’t think he’s got long left,” Jack says, handing me his mobile phone.
“No,” I reply. “I should get going. Give it five minutes, then use the main landline to call 999.”
“It’s going to be hard seeing you but not…you know.”
“I know,” I whisper, placing my hands gently on either side of his face.
He kisses me softly, but passionately. We don’t have long. It’ll be the last time we do this for a long, long time. Possibly forever.
Reluctantly dragging his mouth away from my lips, his eyes meet mine.
“I love—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt him, placing my finger on his lips. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
I can’t hear that. If I do, I’ll crumble. I can’t be Leila right now.
Taking a deep breath, I look at the almost dead man by my feet.
Just stick to the rules one more time. You can do it.
For Jack.
67
Leila
Wednesday, January 15, 2025
6 p.m.
I haven’t seen orspoken to Elise Vernon in fourteen years. I can tell by the steely look on her face as she walks toward me that she has very much not forgiven me for what happened. What I did to her.
We used to come here, to Nightingale Dene. It was beautiful in the summer. The trees were rich with lime-green leaves, and we’d lie on the grass, take turns buying ice-cold drinks from the café.
