by David Adkins
“I am Steve Coulson and I work for the legal firm, Butler and Robinson,” I informed him.
“I guess you know who I am,” he smiled wanly.
“I am here to help you, Mr Lucas.”
“I could do with some help right now,” he sighed. “Did Cassie send you? She said she would get me some proper legal help. This Bruitt character they have given me is no help at all! He won’t listen to anything I have to say. He saw me once and has never been back. I need some real help. This is a hanging prison.” The words flowed from his mouth with more than a hint of desperation.
“If you are innocent I will try to help you,” I assured him.
“I am innocent. God knows I am innocent, Mr Coulson.”
“We do not have long so let us get straight down to facts. Cassie told me briefly what happened on the night of the murder but now I want to hear it from you in your own words and right from the beginning.”
He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. “I got home from work at about eleven that night. I work as a manager at the Gaiety Theatre on the Strand. I was hungry so I made myself a Spam sandwich. I sat down on the sofa and I had only taken a couple of bites when I heard a crash from the neighbouring apartment. It was loud enough to be a little alarming and so I then listened intently. There were more noises so I thought I had better investigate and make sure everything was alright.”
He paused and took a breath.
“I crossed the corridor and found his door open by just an inch or two. I shouted out, asking if anyone was home and if everything was alright, but there was no answer. I pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. The first thing I saw was the body of my neighbour on the floor. Then I glanced up and saw a young woman standing at the far end of the room. Then a pain exploded at the back of my head and darkness descended. I think I was unconscious for a few minutes before I came to. The pain was intense but I crawled over to the body to examine it and found blood all over his chest. I think I just sat there in shock for a moment before it all caught up to me and I screamed, scrambling to get away from the body. I saw the knife on the floor next to the body and I picked it up and struggled to my feet. It was then that others rushed into the room and one of them must have called the police. I didn’t even attempt to leave because it never occurred to me that I would be accused of murder. The police arrived and I was arrested and questioned at Westminster Police Station. They did not listen to what I had to say and then Lester Bruitt arrived. He was no more interested in my pleas of innocence than the police. I was charged and sent to Pentonville to await my trial. Mr Coulson, you have to do something! They’re gonna hang me.”
“Whoa, calm down. Max… may I call you Max?” He didn’t answer, lost in his distress, but I proceeded anyway. “Now Max let us go back to some of these details. What did the noises that you heard sound like?”
“They sounded as if there may have been a struggle and something knocked over or perhaps a body falling to the floor.”
“Were there any voices?”
“I…” he stopped to think, still a bit agitated. “I don’t remember any.”
“Did you see anything that had been knocked over?”
He looked down at the table, thinking hard. “I think… wait.” His brow creased. “When I came to, I remember seeing a lamp in the corner that was laying on the ground broken.”
“You said that when you stepped inside the room, the first thing you saw was the body of your neighbour on the floor. Did you think he was dead?”
“I guess so but I did not know.”
“Who is this neighbour?”
“His name was Rupert Nesterman. I’d only lived there two weeks, so the only time I actually met him was when he introduced himself when I first arrived.”
“You say you then saw a woman at the far side of the room. Can you describe her?”
“She was in the shadows and I only glimpsed her for a second or two before I was knocked unconscious. All I can say is that she was quite young with long dark hair and I think a pretty face.”
“How young would that be, Max?”
“I would say she was in her mid-twenties but I am not sure.”
“Was there anything else about her?”
“I can’t think of anything,” he sighed. “I only saw her for a second or two.”
“Then you were hit on the back of the head?”
“Yes and I still have the bump.”
“Turn around and let me feel it,” I suggested. He turned his head quite willingly and I felt a slight lump.
“Hey!” the guard bellowed as he knocked on the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, just feeling a bump on his head,” I offered. The guard shrugged and showed no further interest. I turned back to Max. “Your scream brought the other tenants to investigate?”
“I suppose so.”
“Not the act of a guilty man,” I surmised aloud.
“That is because I am innocent. It is bad enough to hang for a crime you committed but to hang for one you didn’t commit is unbearable.” He was sounding desperate again.
“Calm down Max, I’m here to help you. Why did you pick up the knife?”
“I did it without thinking. I was in a daze. I had just been hit over the bloody head for God’s sake.”
I noticed the guard getting antsy and glanced up at the clock. “One more question, quickly! Why did you not run?”
“It never occurred to me to run. I had done nothing wrong so why run? Anyway I was weak and dazed from the blow.”
“The police then arrested you. Who was the policeman in charge?” I asked.
“He said his name was Chief Inspector Raymond Styles.”
“Time’s up,” the guard shouted.
“I am seeing Lester Bruitt this afternoon.” I informed Max as we got up from the table.
“He wants to prove I am crazy to save me from the gallows, but I am not mad!”
“That much is obvious, Max. I will see you again soon.” The guard was beckoning that I should leave and so I stood and walked towards the door.
“Thank Cassie for me,” he called out. “She is a great girl.”
“I will,” I assured him and left the presence of the much distressed prisoner.
I was not certain what to make of the interview but there was much to be looked into and it would be interesting to hear Lester Bruitt’s point of view. He could tell me about the police case against Lucas. At the moment I was not sure whether or not I believed the story of Max Lucas.
I walked out of the bleak prison and made my way back towards the Underground station deep in thought.
*
At 2.45 that same afternoon I was standing outside an office block on New Oxford Street. I was early again but it was starting to rain so I stepped into the lobby of the building. What a contrast it was to the shabby prison building I had visited earlier in the day. The office block was a new and modern building with lots of glass and shiny surfaces. I walked over to the reception desk. “I have an appointment to see Lester Bruitt,” I said to the young woman.
“You want the third floor, sir. Take the lift over there,” she pointed. “When you reach the third floor turn left out of the lift and walk to the end of the corridor.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
“The third floor please,” I informed the lift man who nodded and pressed the appropriate button.
When the lift reached the third floor I turned left as instructed. At the end of the corridor I entered an open space area with several doors leading from it. “My name is Steve Coulson and I have an appointment with Lester Bruitt at 3.00,” I informed another young lady at another reception desk.
“Take a seat sir. He will call you when he is ready to see you,” she said and pointed to a comfortable looking couch. I sat down and waited for several minutes until one of the doors opened and a portly man emerged. “Mr Coulson would you like to come in now?” he asked.
I stood up and walked
over to his office. He offered his chubby hand and I shook it. “I am Lester Bruitt, the son portion of Bruitt and Son,” he said with a politician’s smile. “My father, Nathaniel, has the next office to me.” He looked towards another door. He then opened the door to his office wider and beckoned me inside.
“Thank you,” I responded.
The office was very smart and very tidy bordering on plush. Compared to our offices in the Strand, it hardly looked worked in. “Please sit down Mr Coulson. You look very cold. My secretary is bringing us a brew.” The man seemed pleasant enough.
“It is cold outside so that would be most welcome Mr Bruitt.”
He smiled. “I understand from my secretary that you work for Butler and Robinson, one of our competitors.”
“That is so.”
The secretary arrived with a cup of tea each and some biscuits. While we both took a sip I studied Lester Bruitt. He was a short, portly man with a reddish face and even redder nose and was probably about the same age as me. I got the impression that he dined well with copious amounts of wine. He presented a friendly disposition but beneath that facade I detected a tough and determined lawyer.
“So how can I help you, Mr Coulson?”
“I have an interest in the Russell Square murder and I believe the man charged is your client.”
“You mean Max Lucas. Indeed he is.”
“I would like to know about the charge against him.”
“He has been charged with murder, Mr Coulson. May I ask if you are working on behalf of Butler and Robinson and if so perhaps you could tell me their interest in my case?”
“No, I am working on my own behalf, Mr Bruitt.”
“Please call me Lester.” His words were friendly but his tone was frosty.
“Then please call me Steve.”
“Steve, if you are making inquiries regarding one of my clients, I would like to know why.”
“Max Lucas is a friend, Lester.” Each exchange of names became more and more pointed.
“I see. I will help you if I can but you will appreciate I must be careful. A murder has been committed and the subject is therefore a little sensitive and there is client confidentiality.”
“I have spoken with Max and he knows that I am seeing you.”
“Indeed, then I will help you if I can.”
“Perhaps if I ask you some questions you will answer them if you can.”
“That sounds like a reasonable idea, fire away.”
“On what have the police based their case?”
“The landlord and tenants found Lucas standing over the body with a knife in his hand and the blade covered with the blood of his victim. There was also blood all over his shirt and a guilty expression on his face. Lucas was obviously disturbed when he was trying to rob the apartment. In the ensuing struggle he knifed the victim. It was simply a botched robbery.”
“The expression on his face may have been shock and disbelief. He lived next door and he had just discovered a corpse, his neighbour,” I suggested.
Bruitt shook his head. “According to the police it is a common scam at the moment. Move into a wealthy apartment block and pay as little rent in advance as you can get away with. Then you rob a neighbour when the chance arises and disappear with a sizeable profit.”
I was surprised that Bruitt had described it as a wealthy apartment block for Max had no money or so I had been led to believe. “How much did Max pay in advance?”
“He paid three months.”
“Was Max’s story investigated?” I asked.
“There was nothing to investigate.”
This time I shook my head. “That is a rash statement.”
“Not really,” he replied.
He had quick rebuttals for every question I asked.
“What about the woman that Max saw?”
“She did not exist. That was a way to simply elaborate his story.”
“Then what about the lump on the back of his head?”
“The police doctor said that was an old wound.”
“And yet the lump is still there after all this time,” I mused.
Bruitt shrugged impatiently, so I continued to press him. “The landlord and tenants were alerted by the scream of Max Lucas. That does not sound to me like the action of a murderer.”
“That is the point Steve. He is not a murderer but a thief with mental issues. He was disturbed and a struggle took place. He never meant to commit murder but he did. Unfortunately for both of them he was carrying a knife.”
“Why do you say he had mental issues?”
“He had a known gambling addiction that had made him unpredictable and unstable.”
I decide to change my tack. If Max had not murdered Nesterman then whoever did must have had a motive for it did not seem to be robbery. “Was anything taken from the apartment?”
“The robbery was aborted but the police did check and it seemed that nothing had been taken.”
“Who was the victim?” I asked.
“Rupert Nesterman,” he replied.
“Who is Rupert Nesterman?” I tried again.
“He is the murder victim.”
I was starting to get annoyed with Lester Bruitt but I tried not to show it. “You know what I mean, Lester.”
“Steve, I do not see that that is important but I believe he was a banker.”
“Where did he work?” I persisted.
“I understand he was a bank manager at the Midland or the National Provincial in Kingsway.”
“Are you telling me that you are not sure?” I expressed disbelief. “Was he married?”
“No he was not.”
“How old was he?”
“He was forty five and now I am afraid I do not have much time left for you.”
“Can you tell me anything else about him?”
“No I cannot,” he rebuffed. “Look, there is only one chance for our Max to survive and I intend to seize that opportunity. I am working on a plan to show that he was not mentally stable when he committed the crime. If we can establish that then they will not send him to the gallows.”
“They will send him to an institution.”
“I am sure you will agree an institution is preferable to the gallows.”
“We both know he is not mad,” I said.
“That is not the point. What position do you hold in Butler and Robinson?”
“I am office manager,” I informed him.
I saw a slight sneer. “You should leave these matters to lawyers.”
“Surely you are not contemptuous of office managers. You lawyers would be nowhere without them.”
He nodded. “You are right, my own office managers do a sterling job and we would be in a mess without them, but each to his own.”
“I have taken up a lot of your time and I must be on my way.” I said for I was getting tired of his obstructive attitude.
“Do you intend to continue with this?” he asked.
“I have not decided yet,” I replied truthfully.
“I suggest that you stop right here. There is nothing to be gained by delving into the case further. The police have their man and you could jeopardize my efforts to save his life.”
“Or I could prove he is innocent,” I smiled.
“I am giving you a friendly warning to leave well alone. I suggest you heed it, Steve.”
“Warnings are rarely friendly, Lester.” I stood up and offered my hand.
He seemed to take it warmly. “It has been pleasant talking to you.”
“Thank you for your time.”
I nodded to the receptionist as I walked past her elegant desk and made my way back to the lift.
I resolved to go home immediately. While on the train, I realized I had already made my decision; I would pursue this further. I was still not sure whether to believe Max, but he had Cassie on his side and that was a plus. There were also things that just did not add up or ring true. But perhaps the thing that clinched it was the attitude of
Lester Bruitt. He was pompous just as Cassie had said and he had warned me off. I did not take kindly to being warned off, even in a pleasant way.
Over dinner I worked on a plan for the next day. I needed to question the landlord at Russell Square and perhaps some of his tenants about the day of the murder. I needed to find out more about Rupert Nesterman and why anyone might wish him dead. I needed to ask around at perhaps the banks in Kingsway and the pubs and bars in Russell Square. I could go to Somerset House and look up records for Rupert Nesterman. I was lucky that it was an unusual name. I picked up the London telephone directory and flicked over the pages. There was only one Nesterman. The initial was not R but T and he lived in Wandsworth not Russell Square. That looked like an unhelpful entry but I rang the number anyway. I let it ring for a long time but there was no answer.
I had plenty to keep me busy the next day and so I decided to relax while I had the chance and listen to some music and wait for Cassie to call as she had promised to do. When it reached 11.30 and she still hadn’t called, I decided to go to bed. I had only laid in bed for five minutes when the phone rang. I jumped out of bed and fumbled with it.
“Steve Coulson,” I answered.
“Cassie here, Steve, how was your day?”
“It was interesting. And yours?” I relaxed on my couch, imagining the beautiful Cassie relaxing on her bed.
“I had a late evening and I have only just got in. Some of the girls went for a drink after the show. I have not even been up to my room yet. I am ringing you from the hall downstairs.” She was not in a sexy pose on her bed. I felt disappointed and there was a pause. “How did your day go?”
“I saw Max and I saw Bruitt and I think you are right Cassie. Things do not add up and Bruitt is not doing his job. In fact he warned me off and I did not take kindly to that.”
“He is a pompous pig,” she offered. “I would like to stick a pin in him and watch him explode.”
I laughed. “He is on the portly side.” I let out a breath and got onto business. “You were right. I think this deserves looking further into, so it seems I am working for you now. If Max is innocent, then I intend to prove it.”
