A Matter for the Jury by Peter Murphy Page B

the middle of an interview in a murder case without good reason. Besides, there was no harm in giving Billy Cottage a few minutes in which to reflect on his position.
    â€˜Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s something come up that Sergeant Livermore and I thought you should know about without delay. Would it be possible to take a short break?’
    â€˜Certainly, Constable,’ Arnold replied. ‘I’m sure DI Phillips wouldn’t mind a bit of a rest. While we’re at it, why don’t we all have a nice cup of tea? Sit tight, Billy, we will bring you some tea and then we will continue.’
    â€˜Can I use the toilet?’
    â€˜Of course you can. PC Willis will take you in a couple of minutes. Just sit tight for a short while.’
    Phillips stood gratefully, massaging his right hand vigorously. Arnold closed the door of the interview room and the three officers stood in a huddle just outside the door. Sergeant Livermore joined them.
    â€˜Good news, sir,’ he announced. ‘Jennifer Doyce has just woken up in Addenbrooke’s, and she is able to talk.’
    Arnold’s jaw dropped.
    â€˜You’re joking. When they took her in, they didn’t give her a snowball ’s chance in hell. What happened?’
    â€˜The doctors are just as surprised as you are, sir. They can’t really explain it. Under any normal circumstances, her injuries should have been fatal, or at the very least she should have irreversible brain damage. But somehow, she’s survived. Mind you, she’s not out of the woods yet – not by a long way. She’s still listed as critical. She’s got a fractured skull, a couple of broken ribs, and she suffered some injuries around the genital area. There may be internal injuries. But she has regained consciousness, and her vision and hearing are fine. She’s talked to the nurses a bit. They are keeping her sedated and on a morphine drip for the foreseeable future. There’s no way to tell yet how much she remembers, but apparently she did ask something about Frank, and they don’t want to upset her. No promises, but they might let you talk to her for no more than five minutes tomorrow if her condition doesn’t worsen. It will be some time before we know whether she can make a full statement. Her mother is with her, and I’ve asked her just to make a note of anything Jennifer says, not to ask any questions, just to make a note.’
    â€˜Well, I’m damned,’ Arnold said. He stood, lost in thought, for some time, hands on hips. ‘All right, let’s detain Sonny Jim overnight. I want to have a word with Jennifer before we resume the interview, if they will let us. We will drive back to Cambridge later this afternoon, so that we can be there at whatever time the hospital will let us in.’
    He turned to face Phillips, who was still rubbing his writing hand, though now more gently.
    â€˜Good news, sir,’ Phillips said, smiling.
    â€˜Yes. Makes a nice change, doesn’t it?’ Arnold replied. ‘Let’s hope her luck holds – and ours.’

12
    31 January
    Jess Farrar stepped down from the train on to the platform and pulled her overcoat tightly around her body to fend off the chilly wind sweeping through the station. Underneath her coat, her suit and blouse felt rumpled and uncomfortable. The journey had taken more than three hours in an uncomfortable seat; the train’s relentless heating had been oppressive rather than comforting; and the sandwich and coffee she had bought in the dining car had been stale and tasteless. She took a deep breath. Perhaps Bettys Tea Rooms would offer something more appetising. Looking around her, Jess found an exit sign and made her way up the stairs and along the bridge that led to the station’s main entrance hall. Once outside, she paused briefly, recalling the street plan of York city centre she had memorised earlier. She left the shelter of