Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“It’s a good thing we’re convinced Brodie’sinnocent, ain’t it?”

“I’ve never thought otherwise, not for asplit second.”

“Well, major, I’d say that what you’reproposin’ to do is as close to play-actin’ as anythin’ we’ve got upto at Oakwood Manners.”

“And what role do you think I’d be takingon?”

Cobb grinned. “Doubtful Dick Doughertybedazzlin’ everybody within hearshot !”

Marc smiled at the compliment and itsperceptiveness, then looked serious. “I may need to be asgood as Dick was if I’m to see a find young man acquitted of acrime he didn’t commit.”

“My money’s on you,” Cobb said, and meantit.

When Marc arrived at the Court House, somewhatgroggy after being wakened intermittently throughout the night by ateething Maggie and a fretful Beth, he got two surprises, neitherof them heartening. The first one concerned the witness-lists. Hehanded the clerk his own roster – that included Horace Fullarton,Andrew Dutton and Celia Langford – and received the Crown’s inreturn. Subpoenas, where necessary, would go out within the hour.As expected, the Crown proposed to call Dr. Angus Withers, Cobb,Sturges, Gillian Budge, Dutton, Fullarton, Cyrus Crenshaw, TobiasBudge and Sir Peregrine Shuttleworth. If called in this order, theCrown’s tactics were crystal clear. After Dr. Withers reported onthe injuries and time of death, the two policemen would becompelled to discuss the confession, after which the testimony ofthose at The Sailor’s Arms would, minute by minute, seal Brodie’sfate. But it was the unexpected name on the Crown’s list that gaveMarc a nasty shock: Celia Langford.

What on earth would the Crown – Alf McGonigleto be precise – want with Celia? Brodie’s statement admitted hisreceiving the blackmail note, and the note itself had beendestroyed. All Marc could think of was that, according to Brodie,Celia had been present when the note arrived a week before thefatal encounter took place. Perhaps McGonigle was going fishing forsomething Celia might have heard Brodie say at that time, or later,about his intentions. After all, Brodie had claimed in hisstatement that he had planned to entrap the blackmailer, exposehim, and haul him off to the police quarters – but had lost histemper and struck Duggan on the cheek. By putting the “confession”into evidence, the Crown was taking a calculated risk: while theeye-witness testimony jibed with Brodie’s account (except for thebattering with his walking-stick), the jury would have to bepersuaded to interpret Brodie’s truncated version as a deliberate,self-serving attempt to save his neck. But they might not see itthat way. Under British law, a defendant like Brodie could nottestify on his own behalf, but in this instance some of the lad’sown words and intentions would get admitted, and might bebelieved. Unless Celia had heard him utter more incriminating ones!Marc would have to go to her as soon as possible and find out.

The second nasty shock came just as Marc wasset to leave, when he asked casually after Alf McGonigle, and wasinformed that the fellow would not be prosecuting Brodie after all.He had been given leave to attend his dying mother up in Newmarket.But a suitable replacement had been found by coaxing an experiencedbarrister out of semi-retirement.

Marc did not need to be given the name.“Kingsley Thornton,” he said.

“The very man,” the clerk smiled,knowingly.

Thornton had been a renowned barrister at theOld Bailey in England for many years before retiring to UpperCanada to be with his extended family. Last January he had beenlured out of retirement to prosecute a local man for murder, havingbeen drawn to the case by the equally talented barrister he was toface on the other side: Doubtful Dick Dougherty, Brodie’s guardian.Although things had not gone his way, he had obviously enjoyed thecontest, and was eager to slip back into harness. Which was notgood news for either Marc or Brodie. This was to be Marc’s firsttrial as a barrister. He had had superb tutors in the Baldwins andRobert Sullivan, and an incomparable exemplar in Richard Dougherty,but Thornton was a seasoned professional – eloquent, disarming, andquick to exploit an opponent’s weakness. Moreover, he had beenhanded an airtight case, one which left the defense with no choicebut to execute a daring, high-wire act. Marc thought he had betterdeliver this disquieting news to Brodie – as soon as he had talkedto Celia.

Some of the subpoenas had likely gone outalready, but if Celia had been an afterthought, there was a chancehe could get to her before she was served. If not, he would beethically bound to quiz her only on the testimony she was going toprovide the defense as a character-witness. He went straight toMiss Tyson’s Academy on George Street, and was relieved to findCelia sitting in the headmistress’s office poring over her Frenchverbs. She looked up and gave him a welcoming smile.

“Marc, come in. I’m minding the store forhalf an hour. You’ve got some news about the trial? Brodie seemedawfully down when I left him this morning.”

“I’ve got news,” Marc said evenly, and satdown opposite her with his coat still on.

Like her brother, Celia Langford was blond tothe point of being mistaken for albino – except that the eyes werea transparent blue instead of pink. Like her older brother, she toowas intelligent, warm-hearted and amazingly resilient, consideringthe blows life had dealt her almost-eighteen years. She had lost amother, a father, a guardian and a country. Her brother was all shehad left.

“Take your coat off first,” she said sweetly,not yet alarmed, “or you’ll roast in here.”

“Have you received a subpoena from the courtyet?” Marc said, his coat still on.

Celia shook her head, and looked puzzled.“I’m testifying for Brodie, am I not?”

“You are, but your name has been appended tothe Crown’s witness-list as well, put there, I suspect, by thenewly appointed prosecutor.”

“But I’ve got nothing to say that he would beinterested in, have I?”

“Unless he plans to question you aboutBrodie’s mood when the blackmail note first arrived, or somethinghe may have said thereafter.”

There was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes asshe replied, “He did let me see the note. It just said that thefellow knew a secret about Diana that she would not want known, andthat Brodie was to take five pounds to that alley. But they knowthis already.”

“Yes, they do. But remember that Brodieclaims in his statement to the police that he intended to confrontthe scoundrel and have him arrested.”

“That’s what I gathered then, Marc. He toldme not to worry, that he would take care of things.”

“Nothing more specific?” They had gone overthis before, but Marc had to be sure there were no further remarksthat might be prodded loose by the wily Mr. Thornton.

“No. That was all. At least about that note.”Celia blushed and looked down at her grammar textbook. “Oh, dear.Oh, dear.”

Marc could hardly believe his ears. “Whatnote are you talking about?” he said as firmly as he dared.

“It’s not important, really. Brodie asked menot to mention it.”

“Duggan sent a second note?”

“Yes. It was shoved under the back door, andbrought to Brodie and me in his study.”

“When?”

“We got it about a quarter of an hour beforeBrodie was to leave for the Shakespeare Club on that dreadfulnight.”

“But Brodie says nothing about a second notein his statement!”

“I know, and that’s why we decided not tomention it. You see, it was just one sentence – something like, ‘Bethere tonight or Miss Ramsay is ruined.’ That’s why Brodie simplyforgot to put it in his statement. It didn’t say anything that thefirst one didn’t.”