Part Eleven
Before court on the Monday morning, John decided to put his plan into action. He and George had gone flat hunting yesterday, and he had seen a couple that he did quite like, but such a mundane activity had given him plenty of time to mull over the idea of trying therapy again. The thought did vaguely terrify him, but when had John Deed ever refused a challenge? When Helen had come to see him back in June, to tell him about Ross, she had given him her card. As he searched through his desk looking for it, he wondered what her reaction would be to his request. He had lighted on the idea of Helen, because he couldn't possibly fall back on the same get out clause as he had with Rachel Crawchek. That just would not be an option with Helen, and if the possibility didn't exist, he couldn't rely on it. Eventually finding Helen's card in his wallet, he examined it, finding both the numbers for the drugs rehab clinic and the psychology service, plus her mobile number. Dialing the number for the psychology clinic, he asked to be put through to her, the prickling sense of combined fear and anticipation creeping up his spine.
"Hi Judge," Helen said sounding pleased. "What can I do for you?" "As unexpected as this question may be," John asked her carefully. "Do you ever take on private patients?" There was a slight pause before Helen replied, "Sometimes. Why, are you thinking of trying to sort your head out?" "Yes," John laughed. "In a manner of speaking." "So, why me?" Helen asked, now completely serious. "Because with you, I will not be able to use the get out clause that I did, the last time I had therapy." "Do I even want to know what that was?" Helen replied sternly, a faint suspicion touching her thoughts. "Probably not," John admitted. After a short, thoughtful silence, Helen said, "I'll need to talk to my boss about this, mainly because I already know you, and it might be better for you to see someone else. I can't make this decision alone. Can I call you back, maybe at the end of the day?" "Of course, and Helen, thank you for at least considering it."
Later that morning, Jo arrived at George's office in Knightsbridge, ready for their first meeting with someone who would eventually appear as a witness for Barbara. Jo had been to an appeal hearing in The Strand, and as George's office was closer, they'd arranged to meet there rather than at Jo's. Professor Zubin Khan was due at eleven thirty, barring any emergencies, and they were both looking forward to meeting the person who might prove to be Barbara's main witness. "At least I can now feel as though we're actually doing something," Jo said when she arrived. "I know it's only been a week since she was charged, but it feels so much longer." "Get used to it," George told her matter-of-factly. "Because this will go on for months until we know one way or the other." "I know," Jo said miserably. "And I know it'll be far worse for Barbara, being stuck in prison. I suppose I just feel as though there isn't enough I can really do." "Darling, you're doing your job, that's what matters," George told her quietly, thinking that she'd certainly been right to insist on taking some of the burden away from Jo's shoulders. If the strain was getting to her already, there was no knowing how she might feel by the time they reached the trial.
When Zubin arrived, he was shown in by George's secretary. As they were in her office, George did the introductions. "Professor Khan," She said, getting to her feet when he appeared. "It's very good of you to take the time to meet with us. I'm George Channing, and this is Jo Mills." Zubin shook hands with both of them, and George asked her secretary to bring them some coffee. As she once again took her seat, she swiftly examined every inch of him, her eyes traversing the tall, thin frame, the aquiline nose, and the black, slightly receding hair. He looked distinguished, polished, and possibly a couple of years older than herself. "Is it normal," Zubin asked with a certain level of curiosity. "For two barristers to work on the same case?" "Not when both are QC's, no," George told him. "But as we both know Barbara on a personal basis, you'll appreciate that this case means far more to both of us than just another job." "I will be primarily at the helm of Barbara's case," Jo further clarified. "As criminal work is what I do, with George acting to all intents and purposes as my junior, because civil work is her speciality." "I see," Zubin replied, clearly impressed at the support Barbara would have. "I got to know Barbara very well, during the time I was treating her husband. It's pretty unthinkable to contemplate her being held behind bars." "Something you must understand, as it may put you off becoming further involved with this case," Jo explained carefully. "Is that this isn't the first time Barbara has been held in custody." "Yes, I know," Zubin amazed them by telling them. "Henry did once tell me where he met her. Having observed just how thoroughly she cared for him during the last few weeks of his illness, nothing would make me give up fighting for her freedom." George smiled at him on hearing this, perceiving such a level of sheer sincerity that she knew he would make a formidable witness.
When George's secretary had brought in their coffee, George visibly resisted the urge to light a cigarette. "When did you first meet Henry Mills?" Jo asked, able to exhibit a far greater amount of self-control. "Some time in the first week of July," Zubin told them. "He'd been seen by Connie Beauchamp in June, she's one of the Cardio thoracic consultants at St. Mary's, who diagnosed lung cancer, and who was able to verify that it was untreatable. Neither surgery, nor chemotherapy would have achieved anything, as the cancer was far too advanced, though you probably know most of this already. The only thing we could do for him was to provide palliative treatment, including ever increasing pain relief, which is where I came in. I am the head of Anaesthetics at St. Mary's, and was the consultant anaesthetist in charge of Henry's case. At first I prescribed oral pain relief, until something far more substantial became necessary. At the beginning of September, it was getting to the stage where oral pain relief would no longer be good enough. Henry steadfastly insisted that he wanted to remain at home, and Barbara was perfectly happy to care for him there, as he wanted. So, Barbara was taught to give an injection, which is very common when relatives are caring for terminally ill people at home." George's eyes momentarily drifted to Jo, wondering if this had happened to her. "I visited Henry roughly twice a week, prescribing more pain relief as he needed it. The last time I saw him, was on Friday the thirtieth, when I prescribed enough Morphine to last over the weekend." "Barbara's response to her charge," George said carefully. "Is that Henry committed suicide. Did you have any idea, any idea whatsoever, that he might have had this in mind?" "No," Zubin said sadly. "But it's far more believable than Barbara killing him." "Did Henry ever tell you precisely what Barbara was in prison for, when he met her?" Jo asked, the weight of an approaching bombshell in her eyes. "Yes, he did," Zubin further surprised them by saying. "He didn't want the same thing to be thought of her again. If anything, that does put some weight behind Barbara's story, because he might have killed himself, so that she wouldn't have had to make that choice." "Well, that's a little more to go on than we had last week," George said almost cheerfully. "Though the postmortem results weren't exactly helpful." "Can I offer some advice?" Zubin asked, a possibility only now occurring to him. "All suggestions welcome," Jo said with a smile. "If the pathologist was informed by the police that he had been murdered, that is precisely what he or she might have looked for. The point is, that if the suggestion of suicide wasn't alluded to, then it might not have been considered a possibility. It can be extremely difficult, to tell whether an injection was given by the person who received it, or by another. If you really want to be certain of your physical evidence, I would seriously suggest getting a second postmortem done without delay. The longer you wait, the harder it may be to find out the truth." "As he hasn't yet been buried," Said George. "I'm assuming this would be possible." "Perfectly," Zubin replied. "Can you recommend anyone?" Jo asked. "Seeing as this person may be subsequently required to stand as a witness." "Someone I work with on an occasional basis would definitely be your best choice. Dr. Kay Scarpetta is probably the most thorough pathologist I know. She normally resides in the States, but is over here at the moment giving a series of lectures to some of my medical students." "Are you sure she's that good?" George asked, wanting to be clear before they asked this woman to become involved. "She's the Chief Medical Examiner of Virginia," Zubin told them blandly. "Ah, definitely good enough then," George said a little sheepishly. "If there's evidence there to be found, she'll find it," Zubin assured them. "Would you like to sound her out," Jo asked. "And see if she is willing to become involved?" "I'm sure she will," Zubin replied confidently. "Kay always did like a challenge."
"Now, just how well do you know Connie Beauchamp?" George asked. "Because it appears that she may be standing for the prosecution." "Oh, you're joking," Zubin said in complete disgust. "Not in the least," George told him, seeing that there existed some deep-seated rivalry between Zubin and this woman. "You'll certainly have a battle on your hands, if you get her into court," Zubin told them. "She's used to being able to manipulate every situation to her own advantage, and she won't give up the fight easily. If Connie thinks Barbara killed her patient, you certainly won't find it child's play to make her admit she's wrong." "Kay Scarpetta, isn't the only one who delights in a challenge, Professor Khan," George told him almost evilly. "So don't give up hope just yet." "As she was Henry's consultant," Jo put in, feeling the hackles rise in George's manner. "We could do with a cardio thoracic expert of our own." As Jo said this, a slightly malevolent smirk spread over Zubin's face. "I could sound out Mrs. Beauchamp's colleague. Tom Campbell-Gore holds exactly the same level of seniority as Connie Beauchamp, so he would be well placed to be your expert." "Very well," George replied a little sternly. "But I must ask you, not to use this case, to settle any old scores. We are here to set Barbara free, not to cripple any but the necessary opponents." "Point taken, Ms Channing," Zubin said firmly, his eyes locking with George's for just a moment, just long enough to show her that he would do his best to heed her warning.
At the end of the afternoon, long after court had adjourned for the day, John was yet again sitting in his chambers, answering the day's e-mails that Coope couldn't deal with, and generally catching up on yet more of the incessant red tape that the Lord Chancellor's Department kept throwing his way. He was staring almost blindly at a truly, mind numbingly new piece of administrative rubbish, when the phone on his desk chose that moment to shatter the silence. Yawning widely, John reached out to pick up the receiver. "John Deed," He said, sounding extremely tired. "Hard day on the bench, was it?" Came Helen's slightly amused tones. "No, just the following tedium from the LCD," John told her with a smile. "I thought you might like to know, that I've been given permission to take you on as a private patient, that's if you still want to go ahead with it." "Right," John said after a moment's pause. "When were you thinking of?" "How about tomorrow, at five?" Helen asked, hearing the distinct wariness in his voice. "That's, awfully soon," John commented slowly. "Come on, Judge," Helen almost teased. "I thought you liked a challenge. Besides, it was your idea in the first place." "Yes," John said heavily. "And I'm beginning to think it was a particularly stupid one." "If you want my honest opinion," Helen told him gently. "From the little I do know about you, I'd say this was something that was long overdue." There was another fairly lengthy pause, whilst John tried to wonder just what she did already know about him, and whether he really could go through with this. "Okay," He said eventually, feeling immensely out of his depth. "Tomorrow." After telling him where to find her, Helen hung up, her mind already working on overdrive to prepare herself for her slightly unusual client. When Helen had hung up, John got up from his desk and stretched. Walking over to where Mimi lay sprawled in her basket, he bent down to scratch her ears. "Have I gone completely insane, Mimi?" He asked, as the little dog gazed lovingly up at him. "Have I just signed myself over to a prolonged session of torture, even worse than anything Ian Rochester could dream up?" As he attached Mimi's lead to her collar and led her out of the door and down the stairs, he was forced to wonder just why his judgment had suddenly chosen to desert him.