Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘Yes, of course,’ Rebecca replied, trying to sound brave as she wiped away the last tear.

‘You told the court, Mrs Elliot, that you had a very fulfilling relationship with your husband.’

‘Yes, we were devoted to each other.’

‘Were you?’ Fletcher paused again. ‘And the only reason you did not attend the television debate that evening was because Mr Elliot had asked you to remain at home and make some notes on his performance, so that you could discuss them later that evening?’

‘Yes, that is correct,’ she said.

‘I can appreciate that,’ said Fletcher, ‘but I’m puzzled as to why you did not accompany your husband to a single public function during the previous month?’ He paused. ‘Night or day.’

‘I did, I feel sure I did,’ she said. ‘But in any case you must remember that my main task was to run the home, and make life as easy as possible for Ralph, after the long hours he spent on the road campaigning.’

‘Did you keep those notes?’

She hesitated, ‘No, once I’d gone over them with him, I gave them to Ralph.’

‘And on this particular occasion you told the court that you felt very strongly about certain issues?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘May I ask which issues in particular, Mrs Elliot?’

Rebecca hesitated again. ‘I can’t remember exactly.’ She paused. ‘It was several months ago.’

‘But it was the only public function you took an interest in during his entire campaign, Mrs Elliot, so one would have thought you might just have remembered one or two of the issues you felt so strongly about. After all, your husband was running for governor and you, so to speak, for first lady.’

‘Yes, no, yes — health care, I think.’

‘Then you’ll have to think again, Mrs Elliot,’ said Fletcher as he returned to the table and picked up one of his yellow notepads. ‘I also watched that debate with more than a passing interest, and was somewhat surprised that the subject of health care was not raised. Perhaps you’d like to reconsider your last answer, as I did keep detailed notes on every issue that was debated that night.’

‘Objection, your honour. Defence counsel is not here to act as a witness.’

‘Sustained. Keep to your brief, counsellor.’

‘But there was one thing you felt strongly about, wasn’t there, Mrs Elliot?’ continued Fletcher. ‘The vicious attack on your husband when Mr Cartwright said on television, “I will still kill you”.’

‘Yes, that was a terrible thing to say with the whole world watching.’

‘But the whole world wasn’t watching, Mrs Elliot, otherwise I would have seen it. It wasn’t said until after the programme had ended.’

‘Then my husband must have told me about it over supper.’

‘I don’t think so, Mrs Elliot. I suspect that you didn’t even see that programme, just as you never attended any of his meetings.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Then perhaps you can tell the jury the location of any meeting you attended during your husband’s lengthy campaign, Mrs Elliot?’

‘How could I be expected to remember every one of them, when Ralph’s campaign started over a year ago?’

‘I’ll settle for just one,’ said Fletcher, turning to face the jury.

Rebecca started crying again, but on this occasion the timing was not quite as effective, and there was no one on hand to offer her a handkerchief.

‘Now let us consider those words, “I will still kill you”, spoken off-air the evening before an election.’ Fletcher remained facing the jury. ‘Mr Cartwright didn’t say “I will kill you”, which would have indeed been damning, what he actually said was “I will still kill you”, and everyone present assumed he was referring to the election that was taking place the following day.’

‘He killed my husband,’ shouted Mrs Elliot, her voice rising for the first time.

‘There are still a few more questions that need to be answered before I come to who killed your husband, Mrs Elliot. But first allow me to return to the events of that evening. Having watched a television programme you can’t remember, and had supper with your husband to discuss in detail issues that you don’t recall, you went to bed while your husband returned to his study to work on his acceptance speech.’

‘Yes, that is exactly what happened,’ said Rebecca, staring defiantly at Fletcher.

‘But as he was significantly behind in the opinion polls, why waste time working on an acceptance speech he could never hope to deliver?’

‘He was still convinced he would win, especially following Mr Cartwright’s outburst and...’

‘And?’ repeated Fletcher, but Rebecca remained silent. ‘Then perhaps you both knew something the rest of us didn’t,’ said Fletcher, ‘but I’ll come to that in a moment. You say you went to bed around midnight?’

‘Yes, I did,’ said Rebecca, sounding even more defiant.

‘And when you were woken by a gunshot, you checked the time by looking at the clock on your side of the bed?’

‘Yes, it was just after two o’clock.’

‘So you don’t wear a wristwatch in bed?’

‘No, I lock away all my jewellery in a little safe Ralph had installed in the bedroom. There have been so many burglaries in the area recently.’

‘How wise of him. And you still think it was the first shot that woke you?’

‘Yes, I’m sure it was.’

‘How long was it between the first and second shot, Mrs Elliot?’ Rebecca didn’t answer immediately. ‘Do take your time, Mrs Elliot, because I wouldn’t want you to make a mistake that, like so much of your evidence, needs correcting later.’

‘Objection, your honour, my client is not...’

‘Yes, yes, Mr Ebden, sustained. That last comment will be struck from the record,’ and turning to Fletcher, the judge repeated, ‘stick to your brief, Mr Davenport.’

‘I will try to, your honour,’ said Fletcher, but his eyes never left the jury to make sure it wasn’t struck from their minds. ‘Have you had enough time to consider your reply, Mrs Elliot?’ He waited once again before repeating, ‘How long was it between the first and second shots?’

‘Three, possibly four minutes,’ she said.

Fletcher smiled at the chief prosecutor, walked back to his table and picked up the stopwatch, which he placed in his pocket. ‘When you heard the first shot, Mrs Elliot, why didn’t you phone the police immediately, why wait for three or four minutes until you heard the second shot?’

‘Because to begin with I wasn’t absolutely sure that I had heard it. Don’t forget, I’d been asleep for some time.’

‘But you opened your bedroom door and were horrified to hear Mr Cartwright shouting at your husband and threatening to kill him, so you must have believed that Ralph was in some considerable danger, so why not lock your door, and immediately phone the police from the bedroom?’ Rebecca looked across at Richard Ebden. ‘No, Mrs Elliot, Mr Ebden can’t help you this time, because he didn’t anticipate the question, which, to be fair,’ said Fletcher, ‘wasn’t entirely his fault, because you’ve only told him half the story.’

‘Objection’ said Ebden, jumping to his feet.

‘Sustained,’ said the judge. ‘Mr Davenport, stick to questioning Mrs Elliot, not giving opinions. This is a court of law, not the Senate Chamber.’

‘I apologize, your honour, but on this occasion I do know the answer. You see the reason Mrs Elliot didn’t call the police was because she feared that it was her husband who had fired the first shot.’

‘Objection,’ shouted Ebden, leaping to his feet as several members of the public began talking at once. It was some time before the judge could gavel the court back to order.