Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

‘Surely a positive finding would be of the utmost significance!’ pressed the lawyer.

‘Of course it would,’ finally confirmed Abrahams, his familiar testiness returning.

Beckwith did not respond to Jordan’s look, although Jordan was sure the other man was conscious of his attention. As he was sure of several other things. One was that Abrahams had been reluctant, without pressure, to appear to criticize a colleague whose publicly acknowledged work the man admired. Another was that Chapman’s reputation beyond Boston hadn’t been established by either lawyer, which yet again was more a failing of Reid, to whose case it was of more direct importance than Beckwith’s, although after that morning’s hearing that was now arguable. And the third was that if he hadn’t persevered – although Jordan accepted he hadn’t started out with any targeted intention – another potentially important discovery wouldn’t have been made. Quickly he said, ‘What about Dr Lewell?’

‘I know nothing of Dr Lewell’s work,’ replied the man. ‘I did not know of her until this case.’

‘The English examination that I underwent before coming here?’ Jordan asked Abrahams. ‘What did you think of it, professionally?’

Again Abrahams hesitated, before saying, ‘Muddled. Completely inadequate.’

‘Which was why I arranged the second examination by Dr Abrahams,’ stressed Beckwith.

‘Had you already exchanged that initial, inadequate English report with the lawyers representing Appleton and Leanne Jefferies?’

Now it was Beckwith who hesitated, recognizing the possible inference from the question. At last he said, ‘Yes. That’s why I had it carried out in England, as part of the accepted, pre-court exchanges. Then I changed my mind and decided we needed something from an American specialist.’

‘Without telling the other side?’

Beckwith nodded but did not speak.

Jordan said, ‘So, until you officially exchanged the second report they would have thought you were proceeding upon the first, English findings, findings which Dr Abrahams has just told us were muddled and completely inadequate?’

‘You’ve made your point, Harvey.’

‘Good,’ said Jordan. ‘Why don’t we go and eat?’

Jordan breakfasted in his room, more interested in accessing his computer sites than eating. He was disappointed that there was no email traffic but remembered that neither the opposing lawyers nor the Boston venerealogists had local facilities and that any communication would have been restricted to telephone or possibly hotel faxes. The overnight arrangement had been for Jordan and the microbiologist to link up with the two lawyers at Reid’s office, although Beckwith was alone when they reached it. Jordan hadn’t bothered with television in his suite, so the local newspaper coverage he’d read in the taxi, relegated to an inside page, was the first he’d seen of the previous day’s court opening. The legal restrictions limited the account to the basic facts of the pre-hearing application being postponed on a procedural technicality, to be reconvened that day. The stock photograph of Alfred Appleton was from his yachting days, which made the image virtually unrecognizable as the man whom Jordan had seen in court the previous day and because of the way she had dressed herself down, with practically no make-up, the library picture of Alyce wasn’t a good representation, either.

‘Bob has had to go to persuade Alyce to show up,’ announced Beckwith. ‘She called him last night, saying her doctor was prepared to appear today and say the strain would be too much for her to be in court.’

‘I don’t want to be kept here another day,’ protested Abrahams, at once. I should have been back in New York today; my diary’s shot to hell!’

‘You will be back tonight,’ promised Beckwith. ‘We can go on in her absence, with the judge’s agreement; she’s not part of my application. But Bob thinks Pullinger would consider it a spoilt girl’s cop-out and I agree. I don’t want to lose whatever we might have gained yesterday.’ He looked at Abrahams. ‘We’ve managed to get print-outs of Chapman’s medical journal papers you talked about last night, back at the hotel. They could turn out to be very useful.’

‘When will we know if Alyce is going to show up?’ asked Jordan.

‘Bob’s going to call from his cellphone.’ The lawyer looked very directly at Jordan, as if expecting him to say more, but Jordan didn’t.

‘You think I could safely make a late afternoon reservation back to New York?’ asked the doctor.

‘Maybe wait a while: give ourselves an hour in court to see how things go.’

They rode unspeaking to the Raleigh courthouse, using the same entry route as the previous day through connected city buildings. Jordan looked intently through the windows as they walked, but failed to detect any photographic ambush.

Beckwith’s cellphone went as they were ascending the inner steps leading up to their assigned court. The lawyer hunched briefly over it, his back to the flow of people up and down the stairs. Turning back to Jordan, he said. ‘Alyce is coming. So’s her doctor.’

Alyce looked visibly ill, walking falteringly but unaided and in total contrast to the striding confidence that Jordan remembered from her entry into the Carlyle hotel just a few days earlier. There was no make-up at all and the plain black dress, devoid of any jewellery, accentuated the pallor of her face. Again she ignored everyone, including Jordan, but when she reached her adjacent table she turned back for the reassurance of her doctor’s presence. The man was about the same age as Alyce, bespectacled and blond haired. He’d taken a seat directly behind her, nodding in reassurance at her look. Reid did not go directly to sit beside Alyce but continued on to the court clerk, gesturing as he talked to the blond newcomer. The clerk, in turn, had a whispered conversation with Pullinger after the judge’s arrival and Pullinger said at once, ‘Mr Reid?’

‘I should explain, your honour, that with your honour’s agreement the man sitting directly behind my client is Dr Walter Harding, the medical director of the Bellamy Foundation hospital here in Raleigh,’ introduced the lawyer. ‘Mrs Appleton is in court today with great difficulty, brought on by the strain of this matter. Dr Harding is prepared to testify before you, should your honour require it, as to Mrs Appleton’s physical condition. He is also prepared to remain in court, with your agreement, to ensure Mrs Appleton’s condition does not deteriorate further.’

The frowning judge looked invitingly to where Bartle and Wolfson sat. Bartle came at once to his feet and said, ‘It is regrettable that Mrs Appleton is feeling such strain but I would remind the court that distress and strain are inevitable consequences of proceedings such as these which have not, in this case, actually begun yet. And that we hope Mrs Appleton recovers sufficiently to avoid any serious disruption or delay.’

‘Sentiments with which I fully concur,’ said Wolfson, rising as Bartle sat.

‘As do I,’ said Pullinger. ‘And with which I am sure you also agree, Mr Reid?’

‘Absolutely, your honour. And thank you for the court’s understanding.’

Jordan was close enough to his own lawyer to hear Beckwith whisper, ‘Shit!’

‘Still on the subject of delay, I trust we are ready to proceed on the matter of medical submissions?’ asked the judge, going back to the two opposing lawyers.

This time they both rose together, each holding a bundle of papers separated by various tags. ‘These are redrawn medical reports prepared overnight by Drs Chapman and Lewell, upon which my fellow attorney, Mr Wolfson, would also like to address the court,’ announced Bartle.