Jessica thought that, if he could manage that, he was definitely a lot cleverer than she had previously given him credit for.

Having read the Herald’s website on her phone the next morning and then bought the print edition on her way to the station, Jessica was beginning to think she had definitely underestimated Garry Ashford. But if the scruffy little genius had got her off the hook, he had also ensured her colleagues would be taking the piss out of her for weeks.

She had been impressed when she had seen the online version but it was the actual hard copy that really stood out. The front-page banner headline read: ‘HOUDINI HUNTER’. She wasn’t a fan of the ‘Houdini Strangler’ label but, good or bad, it had stuck. Garry’s front-page piece, which extended over a two-page spread on the inside, was a full profile of her. It was positive throughout, reassuring the public that she was looking out for them and hard on the trail of the killer. After the previous editorials slating the lack of progress, this piece praised the ‘behind the scenes efforts’. Very little of the information had actually come from her but, even if it had, it was written so cleverly no one could have known for sure. It quoted ‘sources close to Detective Sergeant Daniel’ and ‘senior members of the team’.

The journalist must have really done his homework the day before. They still didn’t have a great photo of her but had come up with one taken a few years previously when she was in uniform. She remembered it being taken but had no idea where the newspaper would have got it from. She definitely looked younger in the shot and she thought more naive too.

Jessica was planning only a brief stop at Longsight to pick up some paperwork on her way to court. It would give her something to do while she was stuck hanging around in the witnesses’ waiting room. Court duty was a mixed blessing for officers. On the one hand, you did get a day off work. She thought it was like when the teacher used to wheel in the video player at school and you knew you would get an easy ride for that lesson. The downside was the sheer amount of waiting around you had to do.

At the station, Jessica had walked into a rowdy, sarcastic cheer from the half-a-dozen or so people milling around the reception area. Before she could make her way through to her office, the desk sergeant pointed towards the stairs. ‘He wants to see you.’

She wasn’t sure if it would be a negative trip to see the DCI. He surely couldn’t be annoyed given the force had finally been painted in a good light? Jessica went up the stairs but, as she made her way past his office’s window, he didn’t appear to be smiling. ‘DS Daniel,’ he said as she knocked and entered. She instantly noticed a copy of that morning’s Herald on his desk. ‘So you have been making friends with the press then?’ he added, referring to their initial conversation in reception when details of the first murder had made the papers.

‘Not really, Sir. I don’t know where he got most of that information.’

‘But you know where he got some of it . . . ?’

Jessica said nothing but the half-smile on Aylesbury’s face indicated he wasn’t expecting an answer. He spoke again. ‘I talked to Superintendent Davies this morning and he was particularly pleased with today’s media coverage. Delighted, I would say. He asked me to pass a message on to you.’

Aylesbury paused, presumably waiting to see if Jessica would bite. She stayed silent, her face neutral and waited for her boss to continue. ‘He wanted me to tell you not to worry about either Peter Hunt or any internal investigation. His exact words were, “Tell Ms Daniel I’ll handle it”.’

Jessica half-smiled. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘I should of course remind you of your responsibilities when dealing with victims, witnesses, suspects and their representatives . . .’

‘I understand, Sir.’

‘Right then. Enjoy your day in court with Mr Hunt today. I’m sure he will be positively delighted to meet you again so soon.’

21

Manchester has two Crown Courts. Jessica had been to the Minshull Street one in the north of the city centre a few times in the past as that was generally where the cases from her district were heard. But the most serious crimes and anything referred up from magistrates’ courts were usually heard at Crown Square. Given it involved a police officer as the victim, Harry’s case was always likely to end up there.

The building was largely the same as any other court precinct Jessica had been into. It was disorganised with groups of people anxiously checking boards to make sure they were in the right place, with solicitors and ushers racing from various side rooms to the courts, checking on witnesses and defendants. Other sets of people sat on the uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs, checking their watches and fiddling with mobile phones.

If you were in uniform, court officials generally liked having police witnesses in the various public waiting areas. It offered a clear disincentive for anyone in the room who might want to cause trouble. Jessica was in her regular suit but the prosecutor dealing with Harry’s case came enthusiastically bounding across the reception area as if appearing from nowhere. He shook her hand, reintroduced himself and assured her everything in court was going well. That wasn’t what she had heard, of course . . .

Harry was nowhere to be seen but, as the prosecutor led her into court one, she saw him sitting at the back in the public gallery. The court itself was a beautiful creation. It had enormous high ceilings with everything exquisitely wood-panelled. The judge’s bench at the front was long and ran the full width of the room, with a huge seal on the wall behind it. From his view out onto the court, the jurors sat on his right, with the dock, probation seats and press box on his left. The middle of the room was set aside for the lawyers and assorted legal workers, with the public area at the back. The witness box was between the jurors and the judge.

Jessica went to sit next to Harry at the rear. He looked fairly scruffy in a suit but had no tie and was unshaven with uncombed hair. As she sat, he offered a ‘hello’ but wouldn’t be drawn into any more conversation than that and didn’t seem too keen to engage. She wondered if he would still be up for that drink later, or if he even remembered agreeing?

She watched Peter Hunt swan into court with an air suggesting he believed the case was already won. As ever, he was immaculately turned out. He glanced towards her and Harry but acknowledged neither of them before quickly turning away and taking his seat. Being called as a character witness meant Jessica was last in line for the prosecution. Given Harry had self-destructed on the stand, she was possibly a last chance to turn things around before Hunt had the chance to call his own witness, namely Tom Carpenter. The prosecution knew Hunt would claim Harry had provoked a reaction from the accused by threatening him and that, even though a weapon was involved, that knife was a necessary part of Carpenter’s job as a joiner. They would say he had just forgotten to take it out of his trousers and things had got out of hand with disastrous consequences.

Jessica watched the twelve jurors enter court from a side room and made snap judgements on all of them. She could instantly tell the two people who weren’t too bothered by the case. One of them was fairly young, a man in his early twenties or so. Earphones were just about visible hanging by his neckline, indicating he had only just had the decency, or been told, to turn the music off. He scuffed his feet and looked at the floor throughout, showing no enthusiasm on his way in. There was a woman too, much older in her fifties, who looked utterly bored as they filed in. Jessica thought she was probably annoyed she’d had to put her book down or something like that. When the time came to make a decision, Jessica marked the two of them down as going along with whatever the majority would do – especially if it would get them discharged quicker.