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specifically, to lay hands on the scalpel you’d seen among his effects.’
    ‘This isn’t true,’ Paula Gray asserted vehemently.
    ‘What isn’t true? That you didn’t see the scalpel when you were there?’
    ‘I didn’t—’
    ‘You’re not going to deny you and Raymond Conroy were lovers, are you?’
    ‘We never—’
    ‘You’re not about to claim you never went to the apartment with him? Or deny that you saw the scalpel there? Or perhaps take the opportunity to plant the scalpel in the apartment, the one that you had found beside the body of the third victim? Or perhaps one you tainted with DNAevidence, to bring a case against an innocent man?’
    Counsel for the prosecution was on his feet, protesting. ‘While a certain latitude is allowed in cross-examination of a witness, I must protest here that in this instance the witness is not even being allowed to provide answers to the ridiculous charges counsel for the defence is making!’ Quentin Pryce rubbed his prominent nose, glaring at Sharon. ‘Badgering the witness is hardly a suitable way of carrying on a cross-examination.’
    There was a tense silence in the courtroom. There had been no response to prosecuting counsel from the bench: it was almost as though Mr Justice Abernethy had not heard prosecuting counsel. His eyes were fixed on the witness, and his brow was thunderous. Sharon stared at Detective Constable Gray. ‘Are you prepared to answer the questions I have asked? How many times did you visit Raymond Conroy’s apartment?’
    The witness seemed petrified, a rabbit caught in the headlights.
    ‘Were you and Conroy lovers?’ Sharon continued more quietly. ‘Did you allow him to seduce you in order to obtain his trust? Did you then abuse that trust by placing a stained scalpel in the apartment?’
    ‘You can’t say I would do something like that,’ Paula Gray gasped.
    ‘You were all under pressure in your team,’ Sharon asserted. ‘I put it to you that you were encouraged to get close to the accused, and help the investigation a little further down the line. You went along with that, but when it didn’t seem to be getting anywhere nearer the solution you were seeking, your senior officers suggested to you that you “find” the evidence linking Conroy to the crimes. Yes, I’m sure it was someone else who put his hand on the scalpelduring the search, but it was you who told him where to look!’
    Detective Constable Gray found her voice. ‘That’s not true! Conroy and I were never lovers! We never went to bed together when I went to his flat! I got the feeling he was … asexual, even. I don’t think he’s interested in women, not in that way! He….’ Her voice died away suddenly, as if she was unsure as to what she had admitted to, involuntarily. Her glance flickered around the room, resting on some of her colleagues seated in court. She seemed to want to say something more, but her voice died in her throat as uncertainty strangled her. She was put out of her misery by the judge.
    Mr Justice Abernethy leaned forward on the bench. His brow was heavily lined; he glared at the witness, then at the prosecuting counsel. His pendulous lower lip was almost trembling with contempt. He turned back to the woman in the witness box. ‘Let us be certain of one thing at least. Did you visit the apartment owned by the accused?’
    ‘Yes, my lord, during the search I….’
    ‘Did you visit the apartment before the search warrant was executed?’ the judge demanded in a threatening tone.
    ‘I … I did not….’
    It was clear from his attitude that Mr Justice Abernethy did not believe her. He glared at counsel for the defence and prosecution. ‘I would like to see you, in my chambers, immediately.’
    The court rose as he swept indignantly from the room. Ten minutes later all three came back into the courtroom. It took only a few more minutes for Mr Justice Abernethy to thank the jury for their attendance and discharge them from any