Chapter 44
Between Emma’s scrutiny and the discomfort Matthew’s increasingly in with his skin, he finds it hard to concentrate during the afternoon’s evidence.
It’s as well that it’s a police officer on the stand, telling the court what items she found during a search of the girls’ dormitory.
The exhibits table is soon covered in items that look like they’ve come straight out of the witchcraft museum down the Royal Mile.
Everything was taken from a black metal box that was found underneath Isobel’s bed.
The poppet that was discussed earlier is there.
It’s sealed in a plastic bag as it’s handed round the jury but Matthew still thinks that a stink of dead fish lingers around it, making its way even through this air-tight wrapping.
There are bunches of dried herbs, clumps of hair and a rabbit’s foot all sealed up in separate exhibit bags.
There are five different sets of tarot cards.
Matthew blinks as he turns them over in his hands – who would have thought there to have been so many variations?
A wooden board that he recognises as a Ouija board.
He runs his fingers across the D, the I.
The E. A tremor goes through him, as if an electric current is transmitting itself through the contamination-proof sealant.
A collection of books, all containing variants of Magick and Witchcraft on their covers. A history book – Witchcraft, A History in Thirteen Trials. Matthew turns that over in his hands too, reading the back cover with interest. He might get himself a copy of it, mug up a bit more on the subject.
‘Members of the jury may find some of the following items rather disturbing,’ the judge warns them at one point. Matthew sits up with interest. What could be worse than what they’ve already seen?
Bottles of urine, that’s what, the contents dark and cloudy now. A collection of used tampons, squishy in their clear wrappings as if they haven’t yet fully dried out, even though it’s been months since they were found.
Matthew has a sudden, horrible image of Isobel lurking in bathrooms, waiting for her prey to finish discarding their sanitary protection before picking it out of the bin and stashing it away. For what, though?
For casting spells. Hexes. Curses. Matthew’s research over the weekend has taught him that much.
A whole arsenal of intended harm. He’s not going to share the thought with anyone else on the jury, though.
He knows he needs to be more careful now, make sure that he doesn’t attract any more adverse attention.
Finally, a knife with a black handle, the blade plain but wickedly shiny, light reflecting from it even through the clear evidence bag. Matthew sits up straight. The ritual blade, the one used to kill the pigeon.
The one wielded by either Eliza or Isobel to threaten Christian, leading to the fatal heart attack.
‘This was found at the bottom of the box. Fingerprint analysis came back negative.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that it had been wiped clean. There’s no way of knowing who handled it.’
Miss Brodie stands up to cross-examine. Matthew can’t think what she can have to say on the subject but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out.
‘Just to clarify, this box was found underneath Isobel’s bed in the dormitory?’
‘That’s right, yes,’ the police officer says.
‘And it was tucked right to the back, next to the wall, with a number of other items stashed in front of it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve said that the knife had no fingerprints on it. Overall, though, when you took fingerprints from the other items, the ones which you found belonged primarily to Isobel?’
The police officer clears her throat. ‘Not primarily, no. There were slightly more of Isobel’s fingerprints on the box, but there were also fingerprints found which belonged to each of the other girls involved in this case.
The two co-accuseds, the witness Sasha. Even a couple from the victim herself, Christian. ’
Dead girl’s fingers. Matthew shudders, a cold chill on the back of his neck.
Miss Brodie sits down. She hasn’t won the point she wanted, Matthew can tell by the disgruntled expression on her face. To his surprise, Miss Goodly stands up and moves over to cross-examine as well.
‘This box wasn’t locked, was it?’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘And even though it was hidden under the bed, there was nothing to stop anyone from finding it if they spent longer than ten seconds pulling out the items that were in front of it?’
‘Well, no. They’d need to know that they were looking for it, but yes.’
‘The point is that although this might have been underneath Isobel’s bed, it’s clear that it was accessible to everyone involved, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And beyond the location in which it was found, there is nothing to suggest that any of these items were specifically owned by Isobel, or obtained by her?’
‘I don’t quite understand . . .’
‘I mean that the tampons could have been retrieved by any of them. The bottles of urine could have been filled by any of them. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ the police officer says hesitantly.
‘You might have tested the DNA of the tampons, but you didn’t test the DNA of the urine, did you?’ Her tone suggests triumph, a piss-stained gotcha.
‘Well, no. It’s hard to get DNA from urine. We took a view . . .’
‘You took a view? You took a view that you were going to blame Isobel for everything, so you didn’t bother to do any further investigations, did you?’
‘That’s not the case.’
‘Thank you, officer.’ The advocate swoops back to her seat, her expression still triumphant.
But if that’s the best she’s got, Matthew fears she’s got a long way to go in convincing anyone on the jury that Isobel isn’t up to her neck in this.