Page 88 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘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.’