Court Out - By Elle Wynne Page 0,61

him they wouldn’t be trying to prosecute him?”

“Of course not. That’s not police practice.”

“So when he was running away from you, it’s possible it could have been that he didn’t want to speak to you about that then, isn’t it?”

“Well, I suppose so-”

“And regarding the interview. The first line of the caution starts you do not have to say anything doesn’t it.”

“Yes, it does.”

Quinn sits down, a smirk on his face. I look across to see Rivers with an equally smug expression.

Corr spends the remainder of the afternoon reading out the agreed evidence in the case. As Hobbs went ‘no comment’ in interview luckily we don’t have to sit through pages and pages of that being read out.

Just after four, the courtroom door opens and a uniformed officer passes me a small bundle of papers. I scan them eagerly. Jack-bloody-pot.

The first is a statement from a police officer who has enhanced the photograph of the smashed champagne bottle. It lists his various qualifications and experience with the relevant software and attached to it a large colour photograph. Amidst the green glass, the parts of the label are now clear. Krug Clos Du Mesnil 1995.

The second statement comes from a man called Raymond Weir. Mr. Weir is an established wine merchant with many shops around the country. He’s completed a full enquiry into the history of the champagne and attached the documents to support his conclusion.

In his statement he details his experience and the job he was tasked with. His account ends with this sentence. ‘This particular bottle is also extremely rare as only 12,624 bottles were produced in the 1995 vintage.’

I pass them forward to Corr who leafs through them whilst still reading a statement to the jury. When he finishes, he addresses the Judge and asks them to send the jury out.

“My Lord, I have two new statements that the prosecution seek to rely on”

Quinn jumps to his feet in a flash

“What!” he explodes “How, after three trials can you be serving more evidence now?”

The Judge makes a calming gesture with his hands.

“Mr. Corr, can I please see this evidence? Perhaps you could hand Mr. Quinn a copy too?”

Corr hands the papers around the court and we sit in silence for a few minutes before the Judge breaks the silence.

“Well” he says, sounding rather shell-shocked, tapping the end of his fountain pen on the papers “As you know Mr. Quinn, the prosecution are perfectly entitled to serve more evidence up until the point they close their case, which they have not done yet. There is of course the issue over whether you want me to grant you an adjournment so you can find an expert of your own to comment on either matter? That is a request I would consider, but perhaps given the source of Mr. Weir’s conclusion, you are perhaps in an insurmountable predicament?”

Quinn has turned a worrying shade of red and he looks furious.

“My Lord, I must object at the addition of such evidence at this late stage. I do ask it ought not be admitted given the undoubtable prejudice to the defence!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Quinn but no. This evidence is perfectly admissible. Given the lateness of the hour now, I will ask for your thoughts on this tomorrow morning.”

After he leaves. Quinn turns to us. There’s a hint of venom in his usually jovial tone.

“Are you that desperate to win that you start trying to ambush us at the eleventh hour?”

Corr remains calm and his tone is even in his reply “My junior picked up on something I’d missed. You will of course appreciate that she was not present during either of the previous trials. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters I need to attend to.”

He walks away, leaving me stood with Quinn. I really hope he doesn’t try and take his frustration out on me. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to say something, but he inhales and appears to swallow the words that had formed on his lips. Rivers is stood just behind him and he taps him on the shoulder.

“Come on, Hobbs is waiting for us outside. We need to have a conference. Now.”

I watch as the pair walk away from me and find that Serena has materialised at my side.

“You look as though you could use a drink!” she exclaims.

“Now?” I query, seeing the time on the clock at the back of court. “It’s not even five yet!”

She looks at me with an expression of sympathy