Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Day two of the trial
One of the first witnesses called by the prosecution was thirty-three-year-old Tania Dove.
She walked to the witness stand on precariously high heels, every step echoing around the court room.
She wore a knee-length skirt, tights, and a high-neck sweater.
Her hair was freshly dyed, neatly combed and tied back.
Her make-up was understated. She looked the epitome of respectability.
‘Miss Dove,’ Stefan Villiers began. ‘Can you tell the court what you do for a living?’
Tania licked her lips. She turned to the jury and spoke in a clear, concise voice. ‘I’m a sex worker.’
‘And whereabouts do you work?’
‘I work on Canal Street in Whitby.’
‘How do you know the defendant?’
‘I don’t know him personally. I only know him by sight.’
‘And how’s that?’
‘He sometimes comes to Canal Street to watch us work.’
‘By “us” I’m assuming you mean yourself and the other sex workers?’
‘That’s right.’ She turned to the judge and gave him a rueful smile.
‘Do you mind that he watches you?’
‘Not at first. In my job you see all kinds of quirks men have. You get used to them.’
‘Why do you think Anthony Winstanley watches you?’
‘Your Honour.’ Ronald Montgomery stood up. ‘I don’t think Miss Dove is qualified to give an insight into Anthony’s proclivities.’
‘Indeed. Please withdraw your question, Mr Villiers.’
Stefan nodded. ‘Miss Dove, have you ever had cause to be frightened of Mr Winstanley?’
‘Your Honour.’ Ronald was back on his feet. ‘That is a leading question.’
‘Where are you going with this line of questioning, Mr Villiers?’ Judge Temple asked.
‘My intention is to show Mr Winstanley’s state of mind, Your Honour, especially when he is aroused. I believe Miss Dove, having witnessed it on more than one occasion, can furnish us with first-hand understanding.’
‘Objection sustained. No amateur psychology please, Mr Villiers.’
Ronald retook his seat and Stefan stepped out from behind the desk.
‘On the night of Monday October tenth, did you see Anthony Winstanley?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure of the date?’
‘Yes. It was the night of the storm. I remember it well.’
‘What was Mr Winstanley doing?’
‘He was … pleasuring himself while I…’
‘You may continue, Miss Dove,’ Judge Temple said. ‘We’re all adults here.’
‘I was performing a sex act on a man.’
‘And you saw Mr Winstanley quite clearly?’
‘Yes. I was with a client in his car. We were in the back seat, and I just happened to open my eyes and I saw Ant— Mr Winstanley, and he was looking right into the car.’
‘How close was he to the car?’
‘About the same distance between us now, give or take.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘Well, I couldn’t see fully from the position I was in’—This drew a smattering of giggles from the jury and the public gallery—‘but I could tell that he was … you know … playing with himself, by the actions of his arm.’
‘He was masturbating?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was your reaction?’
‘I screamed.’
‘Why? You said you were used to him watching you.’
‘I was. Usually. But this time, well, it was different.’
‘In what way was it different?’
‘He had this look in his eye. He looked … I don’t know … evil.’
‘Evil?’
‘Yes. He scared me by the way he was looking at me. He was no longer someone shy and reserved who just liked to watch. He was … I don’t like to say … he made me worried that he was going to be the next Yorkshire Ripper.’
‘Your Honour!’ Ronald jumped up, almost shouting.
Judge Marcus Temple nodded. ‘That last comment will be struck from the record.’
Stefan Villiers paused to look at the jury before he continued. ‘And what time was this?’
‘It was around half past six-ish.’
‘And you were on Canal Street, close to the woods where Alice Patterson was found dead the following morning?’
‘Yes. The woods are a couple of minutes’ walk away. Some of us use them for clients who don’t come in a car.’
‘Thank you, Miss Dove. I have no further questions, Your Honour,’ Stefan Villiers said, going back to his seat.
Anthony was sitting in the defendant’s box on his hands.
Jennifer Ripley had told him this morning that the questioning of witnesses was going to be difficult to listen to, but under no circumstances was he to shout out.
He tried to block out Tania Dove’s words, but her voice was loud, and she sounded so sure of herself.
In his mind, he was in his bedroom, shelf upon shelf of comic books in front of him.
He took one down, sat on his bed, and began to flick through the pages, wishing he was Peter Parker.
In the public gallery, Pauline and Leo were sitting in the front row, side by side, holding hands. Pauline was looking to the floor, tears running down her face. Leo took her bag from her, opened it, and removed a packet of tissues.
At the end of the row, Detective Inspector Henry Bishop sat back with his arms folded and a satisfied smile on his face.
Ronald Montgomery stood and approached the witness stand. ‘Miss Dove,’ he began. ‘I’m assuming your work is quite seasonal.’
‘Seasonal? I’m not Father Christmas.’
Another ripple of laughter from the court.
Ronald smiled. ‘Quite. What I meant was that at certain times of year you’ll be busier than others.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose I am.’
‘At the height of summer, for example, when it stays light until almost ten o’clock, your working hours will be longer.’
‘Yes. During the summer I’m often out until the early hours.’
‘Whereas in winter, what time do you usually go home?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe half past eleven. Midnight at the latest.’
‘Does the number of clients you get change with the seasons? For example, when it’s hot and sunny in the summer, do you see more men than during the winter?’
‘Yes.’
‘And for how long have you been doing this job?’
‘Erm… I’m not sure. Five, six years, maybe.’
‘So, you’re more than qualified to say when the best time to go out is for maximum benefit to you?’
‘I like to think so, yes, but—’
Ronald cut her off. ‘Do you get many clients when the weather is bad?’
‘Not… Not many, no. It’s usually just the regulars, you know?’
‘The night of Monday October tenth last year was the night of one of the worst storms in recent history. And you were out on that night?’
Tania looked to Stefan then back to Ronald. ‘Yes,’ she said. Her voice lacked conviction.
‘Did you get many clients?’
‘A few.’
‘What time did you go home?’
‘I … I don’t think I can remember.’
‘I have a report here from the Meteorological Centre in London,’ Ronald began, holding up a sheet of paper. ‘On Monday October tenth last year, a weather warning was issued. It advised people not to go out unless their journey was necessary—’
‘I have to work,’ Tania interrupted.
‘Wind speed was an average of fifty-five miles per hour and, at one point, at precisely 7:58pm, according to this report, a gust of sixty-eight miles per hour was recorded. More than a month’s worth of rain fell in a forty-eight-hour period.
North East Police also advised people not to travel unless necessary.
Trains stopped running all along the east coast and in Whitby itself pubs, nightclubs, and restaurants closed for the evening.
Are you expecting us to believe men would put their lives in jeopardy to go out and visit a prostitute? ’
‘I … I was out working,’ she said, hesitantly.
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Minutes? Hours?’
‘I… Hours.’
‘So, you stood on the pavement on Canal Street, a street I have visited recently and noticed there is very little shelter, for several hours in the pouring rain and strong winds, getting soaked to the skin?’
‘It may be hard for you to believe, but I don’t get sick pay. I don’t get holiday pay. I have to go out in all weathers to put food on the table,’ Tania said, getting agitated.
‘On the night in question, you said the distance between you and Mr Winstanley was similar to the distance between you and me now?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘As I mentioned, I recently visited Canal Street. Whereabouts was Mr Winstanley, exactly?’
‘There’s a car park that isn’t used anymore. It was for workers in a factory opposite, but it closed down about five years or so ago. He was in the corner of the car park, just by a little recess in the wall.’
‘I think I know the part you’re referring to. And where were you?’
‘On the opposite side of the entrance to the car park.’
‘In a car?’
‘Yes.’
‘In the back of a car?’
‘Yes.’
‘This sex act you were performing on your client, was it oral sex?’
‘Your Honour, do we really need to know the exact details?’ Stefan Villiers objected.
‘Mr Montgomery?’ Judge Temple asked.
‘I’m not asking for gratuitous purposes; I’m hoping to establish whereabouts and lines of sight.’
‘I’ll allow the question, but please keep details to a minimum. Miss Dove.’
‘Yes. It was oral sex.’
‘Your head was in the lap of your client?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, on the night of one of the worst recorded storms in recent memory you were in a car on your knees in a poorly lit, isolated car park being buffeted by hurricane-force winds and driving rain, and you were able to look around you to see who was watching when surely your vision would have been blocked by either the man you were performing the sex act upon or the intensity of the rain hitting the vehicle.’
‘I—’
‘You didn’t see Mr Winstanley at all that night, did you?’ Ronald interrupted.
‘Yes. I…’
‘The reason you didn’t see Mr Winstanley on the night of Monday October tenth is because you didn’t leave your flat that night, did you?’
‘I … did,’ Tania said, unconvincingly.
‘No further questions, Your Honour.’