A BOOK OF MURDER a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery 4) by VICTORIA DOWD

Author:VICTORIA DOWD [DOWD, VICTORIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JOFFE BOOKS crime thrillers and mysteries
Published: 2022-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 28: WHAT THE CAPTAIN SAW

‘Thank you, Mr Masterson.’ Prosecution counsel paused over his notes.

I watched the man in the witness box, upright and officious. None of the disgruntled irritation was there that I’d seen that night on the roof of the fort. This man gave a very good impression of being a diligent captain to the fort and the Lovells, but it had slipped that night. His resentment for the passed-out man on the lounger, Logan Macritchie was very evident.

I’d put everything I’d seen in my witness statement to the police, apart from Dad, of course. I’d even mentioned seeing Mr Masterson leave the man on the lounger and walk off with his whisky. But that was all irrelevant really. Everyone was drinking a lot that night. I didn’t mind but Mother was certainly upset not to have her day in the witness box. I’m not sure the Old Bailey was ready for Mother. Mother doesn’t do deference.

‘Now, Mr Masterson,’ prosecution counsel continued, ‘did you see anyone else on the roof deck of the fort at that time?’

‘No, Sir. Sorry, My Lord.’

I frowned. Even if he hadn’t seen me at the firepit, the two figures at the hot tub were very obviously silhouetted in the light. There’d also been the two new figures to come up onto the deck that were clearly visible as Vivienne Brewster and Julian Lovell, but maybe Brett Masterson had gone into his hut by then. My memory could be wrong. Thinking back now, I couldn’t even remember if I mentioned them in my witness statement. I was sure though as I thought back that I had seen five people on that roof deck after Masterson had gone in his hut and within the same hour that Anthony Lovell died. I could imagine the barrister lowering his eyebrows, ‘So you’re sure now, Miss, but you weren’t sure nearer the time?’ I was just glad I wasn’t being subjected to questions about the fallibility of my memory — or how much I’d had to drink.

I leaned a little forward to look more closely at the man in the witness box. He looked like the sort of man who was always a little out of breath. This session standing in the witness box was beginning to tell. A thin layer of sweat was covering his face now, catching occasionally under the court lights. It didn’t make him look any more believable. There was something strangely untrustworthy about this man to me. Perhaps that was because his recollection was slightly different to mine. Did that even matter? So he’d been rude to a drunk man and didn’t want to say. He’d forgotten to mention two people or maybe hadn’t seen them. Hardly of great importance. Or perhaps I was wary of a man who styled himself the captain of a stationary building in the sea.

‘Now, Mr Masterson,’ the prosecution barrister continued, ‘let me take you through the events that followed that evening.’

‘Yes sir, My Lord.’ He raised his shoulders.

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