Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“Could’ve been. Beats me.”

“Didn’t you find it strange that thedefendant did not try to run away, but rather appeared to be tryingto explain something to you in his mother tongue?”

“But I had him by rights, didn’t I?” Wilkiesaid proudly.

“You asked him to sit on the porch andwait?”

“I did, and he did as he was told.”

“Could he not have run away while you weredealing with Mr. Cardiff and his servants, who had come out to seewhat the fuss was about?”

“Well, I suppose he could’ve.”

“I suggest to you that the defendant’sbehaviour was not that of a guilty man.”

“But he had the vial in his hand.”

“Could he not have picked it up out ofcuriosity to see what had caused the wound to the victim’sface?”

“I suppose so.”

“Did you find a glove near the body by anychance?”

Marc’s abrupt shift caught Wilkie bysurprise. He blinked and glanced over at McBride.

“I did find a glove, yes,” Wilkie said.

“You didn’t mention this in answer to Mr.McBride’s questions.”

“He didn’t ask me about it?”

McBride was on his feet, his jowls wobbling.“Milord, Mr. Edwards is getting at facts not in evidence.”

“Mr. Edwards?” said the judge.

“Milord, Mr. McBride asked the constable todescribe what he saw exactly as he came upon the scene. The gloveshould have been mentioned in response to that question.”

“I agree,” said the judge. “Proceed, Mr.Edwards.”

“Did you assume the glove had been dropped bythe assailant?” Marc asked.

“Milord,” McBride said, “the question callsfor speculation.”

“The constable may answer truthfully what hethought at the time,” said the judge.

“Mr. Wilkie?” said Marc.

“I thought that, yes. The glove had blood onit.”

“Blood from the victim?”

“It was fresh blood.”

“Did you subsequently try the glove on thedefendant to see if it fit?”

Wilkie gulped, looked helplessly at McBride,and said, “I did. At the police quarters.”

“Did it fit?”

“No, sir. It was too small.”

“So it didn’t belong to the defendant?”

“No, sir.”

“So there may have been a third party at thescene, perhaps there before the defendant, perhaps the realkiller?”

“Milord!”

“Go easy, Mr. Edwards. You can sum up later,”said the judge.

“Now, Constable Wilkie, I want to get to thisstory you said the defendant told you – ”

McBride was on his feet so quickly his jowlswaddled. “That story was not explored on direct, Milord.”

“But it was introduced,” the judgesaid. “Continue, Mr. Edwards.”

“You said it was a cock and bull story. Howso?”

“Well, Mr. Gagnon begun speakin’ English, andhe said he’d seen the murder happen. He’d been walkin’ towardsRosewood, expectin’ to talk with Mr. Cardiff about the election,when he saw a man throw somethin’ liquid in a woman’s face justoutside the fence at Rosewood.”

“And what did he do then?”

“He said he shouted and run towards them. Theman dropped the vial in his hand and run off around the east sideof Rosewood. He said he heard the lady moan and bent over her tosee what was the matter with her. She scratched him and collapsed.He said he just picked up the vial to see what had caused theterrible wound on her face when I come along. He said he didn’tcause the lady’s death.”

“But you didn’t believe this story?”

“No sir. It sounded far-fetched to me. It washim with the vial and scratch on his face.”

And, thought Marc, if he couldn’t come upwith a viable third party those two facts alone could convict hisclient. But at least he had got Gagnon’s own defense out in opencourt. McBride’s witness had accidentally allowed the defendant, asit were, to testify on his own behalf, a practice strictlyforbidden in English law.

“You didn’t try to pursue this other man?”said Marc.

“No, sir. I didn’t believe there wasone.”

“Did the accused describe this other man?This third party?”

“He said he was short and slight. He wore anovercoat and a hat. That’s all.”

“And most likely left one of his bloodygloves at the scene?”

Wilkie blinked, but said nothing.

“I have no more questions,” Marc said.

“Mr. McBride, redirect?”

“Yes, Milord,” said McBride. “Constable,about this glove. At first you assumed it had been dropped there bythe accused?”

“That’s right.”

“But when it didn’t fit, what did youconclude?”

“We decided it was just a stray glove layin’there on the walk, and some of the lady’s blood got spilled onit.”

“And the accused had no gloves on at the timeof his arrest?”

“No, sir. That’s why we thought it must’vebeen layin’ there all along.”

“Now, about this cock and bull story. Whydidn’t you believe it?”

“Well, sir, I know from my experience thatcriminals always have some story they dream up to try and escapeour clutches. And I thought since I was patollin’ from the east, Iwould’ve seen this so-called slight man runnin’ away.”

“As you know, it is because a defendant isassumed to be tempted to lie on his behalf that he is not allowedto testify in his defense. So you conclude that this was just suchtestimony?”

“I did. And I gotta believe my own eyes andears, don’t I?”

“You do indeed. No more questions,Milord.”

Constable Wilkie was excused. Marc had doneall he could. The presence of a small glove that might havebelonged to the slight man whom Gagnon had seen running away fromthe scene did point to the third party that Marc was at pains toestablish, as did Gagnon’s story, though it had been materiallyweakened by McBride’s redirect. Still, there was plenty to come.But not until the morning. Court was adjourned for the day.

***

Constable Cobb made his way to The Crooked Anchor.An urgent message had been sent to him at the police quarters thatItchy Quick wanted to see him right away. Cobb found him at hisfavourite table, looking famished.

“Hello, Itchy. Why the big hurry?” Cobb said,sitting down opposite him.

“I got some news.”

“Then spit it out. I’m a busy man.”

“I talk better on a full stomach,” Itchy saidcoyly.

“You want me to stand you a meal before youtell me somethin’ that may or may not be worth a dinner?”

“Oh, it’s worth a dinner. And you know youcan trust me, Mr. Cobb.”

“About as far as I could throw you – and thatain’t far.” Cobb said. “But if that’s what it takes, what the hell,I can always have you arrested fer loiterin’.”

Itchy blanched before he realized Cobb waskidding. “I’ll have liver and onions and a slab of apple pie,” hesaid, “washed down with an ale.”

The meal was ordered, and while they werewaiting, Cobb said, “This has to do with the Gagnon murder charge,I take it?”

“It does, in a way.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’ll help Mr. Gagnon, I’m sure.”

“It better.”

Cobb sat silently and watched Itchy devourhis meal, like a starving boar. Itchy wiped the grease off his lipswith the back of his hand, took a last swig of ale, and lookedacross at Cobb.

“What I’m gonna tell ya – you gotta promiseme not to go chargin’ my informant with anythin’.”

“That depends on what he’s done,” Cobb said,wondering where this was going, if anywhere. “And who’s thisinformant anyways?”

“Pussy Cramden. A friend of mine.”

“Pussy! He just got out of prison fer breakand enter. He’s a second storey man.”

“So he is, and it was while he wasreconoitrin’ Rosewood that he come up with the information you needto know about.”