Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“Depends how fast he was walkin’.”

“Short of running, then, how quickly couldthose seven long city blocks be navigated?”

“Ten, possibly fifteen minutes,” Sturges saidgrudgingly.

“Lots of time for the accused to work outexactly the kind of story he hoped to spin when he got to yourquarters?”

“Milord!”

“Mr. Thornton, it’s the jury’s responsibilityto draw conclusions from factual evidence, not yours. You’ll haveplenty of opportunity to expatiate on this matter during yoursummation.”

Again, much damage had already been done.Having prejudiced the jurors against Brodie’s statement, he now hadit read into evidence. And, for the first time, they were hearingthe lad’s own words and his detailed explanation of his actions.They heard that he had received a blackmail note, in the presenceof his sister, threatening to expose a secret about his friend,Miss Diana Ramsay, and ruin her life unless five pounds weredelivered to an ashcan behind The Sailor’s Arms on the followingWednesday at nine-thirty; that Brodie had planned to entrap theblackmailer by hiding in the shadows after placing a packet ofblank paper in the ashcan, confronting the blackmailer when he cameto collect his booty, and taking him off to the police. He admittedfreely that when he did come face to face with the fellow, he wasenraged by a comment that insulted Miss Ramsay, lost his temper andfelled the villain with one punch to the left cheek. When the mandropped onto his back unconscious, Brodie stooped over to make surehe was breathing, found he was, and then, feeling the aftershock atwhat he had done, had run in a panicked state farther up the alleyand then eastward out onto Peter Street. Up at Wellington he hadmet Cobb, and then come straight to the police quarters.

Thornton paused to let those candid detailssink in. Then he turned back to Sturges.

“And you say, sir, that you advised theaccused against making such a statement? Isn’t that odd – for apoliceman?” Thornton grinned at the jury, vastly amused.

“Not really. I told Mr. Langford that thedust-up sounded to me like a reasonable response to a nasty fellowin the midst of a criminal act, an’ that we should at least waitfer Cobb.”

“And yet the accused was desperate toconfess to a minor crime, was he not?”

Marc sighed, but knew it was useless to keeppopping up like a petulant child. He glanced up at Brodie in thedock, but the lad’s eyes were fixed on the witness-box.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but he was anxious,” Sturges said.

“Curious, is it not, sir, that he wanted toconfess to a punch and to do so with dispatch. Was it perhapsbecause he knew what Cobb would find in the alley and would bereporting to you within minutes?”

“He didn’t looked scared to me,” Sturges saiddefiantly. “Just upset with himself fer losin’ his temper.”

“And lose it he did!”

“But he told me – ”

“No more questions, Milord.”

Marc gathered his thoughts, and as much witas he could muster, and said to Wilf Sturges, who was stillsteaming silently from his treatment at the hands of theprosecutor, “After Constable Cobb’s return, did Mr. Langford denydoing anything other than striking Albert Duggan on the cheek?”

“Yes, he did. He insisted over and over thathe’d done nothin’ but punch him once.”

“Did he provide any plausible reason forwanting to make a formal statement of his guilt concerning thatpunch?”

“He did. He told me he’d been raised torevere the law by his father an’ his guardian, who were lawyers inNew York, an’ that he felt he’d broken the law by strikin’ Dugganwithout due cause, when all along he’d been plannin’ to bring theculprit to justice.”

“And you found this explanation consistentwith the Broderick Langford you have known for almost a year?”

“I don’t see how the chief constable can beexpected to answer such a question, Milord,” Thornton said, risinga few inches off his bench.

“Milord, Mr. Sturges is well acquainted withthe defendant.”

“Answer the question, then,” the judge saidto Sturges, “but only if you feel you can.”

The Chief did not hesitate. “BroderickLangford has shown himself to be an honest, brave an’ principledyoung man.”

Thornton let out a huge, theatrical sigh androlled his eyes at the jurors.

Marc carried on. “Chief Sturges, did you andConstable Cobb, while discussing the crime with Mr. Langford inyour office that Wednesday evening, mention the possibility thatsomeone other than the defendant may have or could have committedit?”

“This is not at all relevant!” Thorntonprotested.

“The witness may answer yes or no,” the judgesaid.

“Yes, we did.”

“Would you indicate what those possibilitieswere, please?”

“Mr. Edwards,” the judge interjected, “unlessyou have evidence to support anything Mr. Sturges may speculateupon, I must halt this line of questioning.”

Well, it was worth a try, Marc thought.Besides, he didn’t really want to alert the Crown or its witnessesabout the particular defense he might have to use later on.

“One final but very important question,” Marcsaid, much buoyed by Wilfrid Sturges and his considerable savvy asa witness. “We have heard that Mr. Langford immediately identifiedthe blood-smeared walking-stick as his own when he spotted it inConstable Cobb’s possession. Did it cross your mind, at the time ofthis incident, that a man guilty of a vicious murder – who hadconfessed only to an assault – would not leap up andidentify the murder-weapon as his own?”

“Milord, this is outrageous!” Thornton was upand a-quiver.

“I will decide what is outrageous in mycourt,” said the judge. “Mr. Edwards has asked the witness if sucha thought – not irrelevant to the case – occurred to him at thatmoment in the police quarters. Surely he may answer yes or no.”

Thornton looked over at Marc, and there wassomething close to respect in his gaze.

“Yes, sir,” Sturges said, “I did think itodd, ‘specially when he kept denyin’ he done it, afterwards.”

“You thought, did you, that it was more thereaction of a surprised and innocent man?”

“I did.”

Marc thanked the Chief and turned him over toThornton for rebuttal, more than satisfied that he had done noworse than a draw so far. Up in the dock, Brodie returned Marc’sbrief smile. Both Beth and Diana were beaming.

Marc now watched with grudging admiration asKingsley Thornton probed for a weak spot in Sturges’s testimonyduring cross-examination.

“You say, sir, that you knew the accusedquite well?” he said amiably.

“Very well,” Sturges said, bracinghimself.

“And you have seen this young bank clerkpromenading about the town as young men are wont to do?”

“From time to time,” Sturges said slowly.

“And was Mr. Langford often seen walkingabroad with the assistance of a walking-stick, as is the currentfashion, I’m told?”

Sturges hesitated, seeing the trap buthelpless to avoid stepping into it. Finally, he said softly, “Hewas.”

“Would you say it was distinguished in anyway?”

“Just a walkin’-stick.”

The ingratiating smile with which theprevious questions had been delivered vanished from Thornton’sface. “Come now, Chief, you’re under oath.”

“It had a silver tip and a carved knob on it- shape of a wolf’s head,” Sturges said in something close to agrowl.

“Exactly. A very unusual shillelagh, eh? Onethat dozens of citizens and customers of the Commercial Bank wouldnotice and recognize as belonging to young Langford?”

“Milord?” Marc found himself on his feet butwas not sure why, except to forestall the inevitable.