Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“That’s putting it rather bluntly. But it’sall I’ve got.”

“Do you really haveta accuse four people ofbein’ a killer in front of the whole court – an’ the whole provincewhen the newspapers have their heyday with it?”

“I’m hoping not. If I can somehow choose theactual killer and put him up first during my recalls, then Ineedn’t use the ammunition I’ve got on the other three.”

“I see. An’ you’re inclined to agree withCobb about Budge?”

“Well, what I’ve done in my head – over andover – is try to arrange the suspects according to the strength oftheir motives. As I’ve worked out the time-line, any one of thefive had the opportunity.”

“The motives all look powerful enough to me.Sir Peregrine won’t want his bigwig friends to think he’s more of awoman than a man. Mr. Crenshaw’s built his life around his fatherbein’ a war hero, an’ lied about it everywhere. Mr. Fullarton’safraid the news of his adultery could kill his ailin’ wife. An’Tobias Budge is set to lose everythin’ he holds dear.”

Marc smiled grimly. “I do wish you hadn’tsuch a talent for cutting to the nub of things. Put baldly likethat, there’s no way to choose, is there?”

Beth placed a hand on his wrist. “You couldtry arrangin’ them in the order of who might be hurt the most orthe least.”

“You’d never make a lawyer, thinking humanelylike that. But you may be right anyway. Budge deserves to have hislife ruined, even if he turns out not to be the killer. He’s ruinedEtta without giving her a second thought.”

“An’ there’s a good chance his wife knowsabout Etta by now,” Beth said with a knowing smile. “Women cansense these things.”

“But Budge wouldn’t’ve known that when he sawDuggan lying out there in the alley.”

“An’ he may not know yet. She could bewaitin’ to use it on him later, if she has to.”

Marc shook his head at the intricacies offemale reasoning. “And Sir Peregrine,” he continued, “has enoughmoney and stature to survive a revelation about cross-dressing,even if it would cripple his hopes of joining the Family Compact.He doesn’t seem to worry unduly about his wife’s serial and verypublic affairs. Crenshaw, I do feel sorry for, but he and hispathetic wife are shameless social climbers, who’ve been living alie. And I really ought to leave Fullarton to last, since Brodiewould prefer me to skip him altogether. The man has led anexemplary life and has, according to Brodie, dedicated a large partof it to making his wife’s last years tolerable.”

“An’ you think Mr. Dutton was bein’blackmailed too, but you don’t know what for?”

“True. Even so, his opportunity seems theweakest. Remember that, as far as we can tell, none of Duggan’svictims – except perhaps Budge – knew who he was before that fatalnight. So, one of the Shakespeareans coming down those back stairsmust have heard Brodie accuse Duggan and concluded that here, a fewfeet away, was the man who had been fleecing both of them andthreatening ruin. Dutton is the least likely to have heard thatpart of the encounter.”

“Unless Duggan woke up an’ argued with hisattacker.”

“Yes. That is a remote possibility.”

“An’ you’re sure there’s no other way todefend Brodie?”

Marc hesitated, then said carefully, “It’sconceivable that tomorrow, as I get to cross-examine the‘possibles,’ as I call them, I may be able to shake up the detailsof their eye-witness accounts enough to throw doubt on what theysaw and how they interpreted it. If the jury finds them confused oruncertain, then, if I can in my summation convince them thatBrodie’s statement is a more accurate and credible account of whathappened – that might be sufficient. Especially when Fullarton andDutton will have provided strong character-references.”

“But you don’t want to risk it?”

Marc paused before saying, “I haven’tmentioned yet that I’m being opposed by Kingsley Thornton.”

Beth let out a long, slow breath. “I see.”And she did, having watched the famous barrister in action lastJanuary.

“Whatever I do to shake the eye-witnesstestimony, Thornton is sure to rebut immediately – with all thecunning and skill he’s developed over decades at the Old Bailey.That’s what I’m truly afraid of.”

“You’ve faced bullets an’ cannonballs, luv,an’ blizzards, when you had to.”

Marc nodded, wondering now – as he had duringthe rebellion and during the nightmarish blizzard he and Beth hadbarely survived – where courage came from.

“Brodie’s in good hands,” Beth said, holdinghis in hers.

“That’s what Brodie said.”

Marcus Edwards, counsellor-at-law, tried to look asif he had sat so often on this seat reserved for defense attorneysin the Court of Queen’s Bench that he had become indifferent to itsawful majesty. The side-galleries were packed with spectators fromtown and county, and the benches behind him thick with localdignitaries and fellow members of the legal profession. Robert andFrancis Hincks were busy at the Legislature, but Dr. Baldwin andClement Peachey, the firm’s solicitor, were just two rows back.With a slight movement of his head to the left, Marc could see Bethsmiling down upon him with a confidence he himself did not feel.Above her, in the prisoner’s dock, stood Brodie Langford, his owngaze fixed upon Diana Ramsay sitting nervously beside Beth. Marcadjusted his wig for the tenth time and tried to shrug hisshoulders more comfortably into the folds of his black gown. Hefelt much as he had six years before when he had first donned anensign’s regalia with its jangling accoutrements: a sham unworthyof the uniform. But a uniform, he knew now, was not something youwore, it was a livery of honour you grew into – or not.

At this point in his thoughts, the clerkstood up to announce the case, and all rose as Justice Gavin Powellentered and took his seat high above them all. It was only thenthat Marc risked a peek at his formidable adversary standingfifteen feet to his right. Kingsley Thornton, QC, was a tall andelegant gentleman of some fifty-five years, who could grin like agrandfather one moment and scowl like a beadle the next, and whosebaritone rumble would not have been amiss in an opera-house.Thornton seemed to sense Marc’s eye upon him, and turned his headjust far enough to expose a smile with the merest hint of pity init.

Thornton’s opening statement was brief buteffective. In a low but well-modulated tone that prompted thejurors to lean forward on their benches, he outlined what heclaimed was a simple, straightforward case, implying that the wholebusiness in this courtroom was so clear-cut that it was barelyworth their time and attention. A foolish young man, threatenedwith blackmail, had decided to take the law into his own hands. Hehad confronted the extortionist, one Albert Duggan, as he arrivedto claim his booty, argued with him, struck him on the cheek withhis fist, and then, in a further rage, beat the unconscious man todeath with his walking-stick. Almost all of these actions weresubsequently admitted to in the defendant’s own hand – in a swornstatement at the police quarters – and those he didn’t mention hadbeen observed by no fewer than four eye-witnesses. He (KingsleyThornton) might even feel sorry for the accused, an apparentlyupright young bank clerk (as the defense was certain to portrayhim) who murdered a fellow none of them (the good gentlemen of thejury) would be pleased to associate with. But the right-to-life wassacred under British law. Even blackmailers were entitled to live.And cold-blooded killers must be hanged for depriving them of thatright.

Marc swallowed hard, then stood up to hislectern and faced the jury. With his ironic smile and his finalcomment, Thornton had neatly undercut Marc’s planned references toBrodie’s exemplary life. Marc decided to omit them. It might bewiser to use his character-witnesses on Monday and build on theirtestimony in his closing remarks. Rather, he drew the attention ofthe jurors to two areas where, he said with more bravado thanconviction, they would discover serious discrepancies in theCrown’s evidence. First, there would be gaps and inconsistencies inthe eye-witness accounts, and, second, the so-called “confession”would be seen to be the most complete and accurate account of theevents of that fatal evening, an account that would in and ofitself exonerate his client.