“Your Honour,” The prosecutor was on his feet. “The impasse that resulted from the evidence given yesterday has made it impossible for the Crown to prove the conspiracy case against the defendant Mrs Palmer. The Crown has no option but to withdraw the charges against her. We will, however, be continuing with the murder charge against Mrs Tomlinson.”
“Are you ready to proceed?”
“Yes, your Honour.”
“Before we proceed.” Bracken rose, “My client has requested a conference with the police prosecutor and the police, in which she will divulge evidence germane to the case against Mrs Palmer.”
“Why was this information not presented yesterday?”
“It would have been presented when my client was called to give evidence. This opportunity was denied us. This is the only course of action available to us.”
“Unless the information that your client has can break the existing impasse, I see no point in this conference.”
“May I approach the bench?” He was waved forward. “This evidence provides proof that Mrs Palmer has committed perjury when giving her evidence.”
“Why did she not provide this information when questioned by the police?”
“She was not asked the appropriate questions and was operating on the advice of her then legal representative to not volunteer information. She was told that if both of them did not deviate from the plan, the police would not be able to establish a prima facie case against either of them. Mrs Palmer deviated from the agreement, most likely to save her own hide. The police were working on the assumption that your client was wholly responsible for the murders and that Mrs Palmer merely gave her legal advice.”
“Very well, we shall meet in the morning, in my chambers at ten.”
“We request that this meeting be held in a place other than this courthouse. Our reasons will become clear. We request that it be held in the offices of Ess-n-Ess InteriorDesign Consultants. Our choice will become clear in due course.”
“Very well. Who else will be in attendance?”
“Mister Chambers representing both Chandra Chambers and Stefan Baptiste and Mister Sydney Porter, the senior partner of the company.”
“What about Mister Palmer?”
“We are of the assumption that, when the information that we have is presented, he and his client will probably make a dash for freedom.”
“Won’t they be curious as to what you have?”
“One can hope.” This raised McLelland’s eyebrow.
The court was adjourned until after the conference and, as it was getting late, Chandra and I adjourned to more familiar territory, after first not accepting Gareth’s half-hearted invitation to have dinner with them.
We were forced to delay our entry into bed by having to change the sheets that were beginning to smell a little whiffy. It was a temporary hiatus and we were soon at it again. We were oblivious to the happenings at the offices of Ess-n-Ess Interior Design Consultants. A trap was about to be sprung.
Darkness hid the reception committee of four, Sergeant Russell and a Constable representing the police force, Gareth Chambers representing us, and Sydney, whose office was about to be broken into. “Getting through the front door will be simple enough,” He told them, “getting out again is another story. This is a security door that we developed, for a paranoid client who thought that he was being spied upon. Once the door lock has been picked and opened, four electronic deadbolts are activated. Once the door is closed it will stay closed until the deadbolts are deactivated.”
“Did you come up with that or did you buy it?”
“It was Stefan’s idea, we had a prototype manufactured and tested. It is now in production and we stand to make a lot of money from this. Actually, I’ll get very little, the majority will go to Stefan.”
“I knew that he was smart.” Gareth said.
“Ssh, we have a visitor.” Sergeant Russell whispered.
There was an almost inaudible click as the lock was picked. The door swung open and the beam from a torch swung around the room searching for an alarm box. There was none.
The figure crouched as it moved across the showroom to Sydney’s office. He wasn’t there for long, just long enough to plant a listening device under Sydney’s desk before quickly moving back to the front door. He turned the deadbolt and pulled the handle. Nothing, the door did not open. Sydney flicked a switch and the office was awash with light.
“Going somewhere?” Sergeant Russell asked. “You are under arrest for breaking and entering. Hold your arms out while I search you.” A quick pat-down led to the removal of a mobile phone. “What is it, speed dial and a coded text message, to tell whoever, that the job is done?” A nodded confirmation. “Number please? Speed dial 1 and then what?” He followed the instruction and pressed the hash key. “I hope for your sake that this is not the code to say that you’ve been caught.”
There was a slight smile on his face, it was the warning code. Good.
At the Bankstown Aerodrome, a small plane was taxiing to the runway when the tower advised the pilot to return to the hangar. The pilot gave in to the flight part of his fight or flight instinct and opened the throttle. Before the plane could gather speed, a police car stopped across its path. The doors opened, and Mister and Mrs Palmer climbed out and were placed under arrest for the murders for which Jacinta Tomlinson had been charged.
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