by Neil Wild
Just then, Lisa burst into the room. “Sorry I’m late….”
“No problem, but you need to sit down.” Brakespeare gestured to the chair in front of him.
“Oh?” asked Lisa. Her puzzled expression merely made her the more attractive thought Brakespeare.
“Would you like me to leave?” asked Margaret, a little huffily.
“Not if you haven’t finished. I’m just about to telephone Newberry.” Brakespeare said to Lisa.
“No,” said Margaret. “I’ve almost finished and there are things that I can be getting on with.” She looked pointedly at Lisa as if to imply that there were things that she too could be getting on with and left the room.
Lisa’s her expression had turned to surprise. Then she looked at Brakespeare questioningly.
“What’s happening, Jonny.?
“Just sit tight. Can you find me Newberry’s number from the file. It’s on the desk?”
He reached for the telephone, and waited until Lisa read out the Malvern number.
“Newberry”. It had taken only a few rings before the surveyor answered the call.
“Good morning, it’s Jonny Brakespeare.”
“Good morning Jonny. I hope that you have some good news for me.”
Brakespeare paused deliberately before he replied. “Do you want the good news, or the bad?
“Go on.”
“The bad news I’m afraid, is that the Prosecution have already had the case transferred to the Crown Court.”
“What!”. Lisa could hear Newberry’s angry response as Brakespeare held the telephone receiver away from his ear. ”Can they do that?”
Brakespeare reached for his Archbold.
“Jonny?”
“Yes, just a second David, let me give it you from the horses mouth. Section 4 Criminal Justice Act 1987 “If a person has been charged with an indictable offence……”
“Cut the crap Jonny, the answer is that they can, isn’t it?”
“Yes”
Lisa leant forward as if to say something, but Brakespeare put a finger to his lips.
"I thought that I would let you know as soon as possible that. We've had a letter in this morning.”
There was a silence, then “Is there some good news, then? demanded Newberry.
"Well I think that there is. When I got back to the office from after seeing you yesterday, Lisa Barnes, who is Gordon Morrison's assistant had been looking at your papers. It turns out that she's quite a whiz kid with computers."
"What on earth have computers got to do with my case?" Brakespeare could tell that to Newbury was beginning to become agitated.
"Just hang on a minute and I'll explain. The prosecution case against you is all about valuations. It must follow that valuations will increase as the property market increases."
"Or decrease as the market falls."
"Absolutely. Well what Lisa did was to apply that rule to the valuations carried out by Black. The result is that when you put all the valuations on a computer spreadsheet, Black's valuations do not follow the pattern. In fact he seems to be all over the place, and has prices rising at a time when they should be falling.
"I told you as much."
"Well now we have the proof."
"So where is this leading us."
"I hope to your acquittal. What we have done in the meantime is to write a letter to the Crown Prosecution Service pointing all this out and inviting them to drop the case. We were going to send it today"
"Do you think it will work?"
"Well until this morning I thought that it might. I thought that we could have a “live” committal hearing in front of a magistrate's court. Now I am not so sure."
"Do you mean that now the case is at the Crown Court, we have to have a full trial?"
"Not necessarily, because the case has been transferred, we can apply to have it struck a out before the judge, but I've never known it done before, and I don't know what our chances are."
"Well who does?"
"Hopefully, Philip Breezie. He apparently is the barrister of choice had Gordon Morrison been able to run this case for you."
"So when do we go and see Mr. Breezie?"
"Well we need to sort all these papers out and then prepare some preliminary instructions for him. It's now Friday, so hopefully we will have this done by the end of next week."
There was a silence from Newbury. Brakespeare could tell what he was thinking.
"I'm sorry, I don't think we can do it any quicker." he added before Newberry asked the question.
"I know, I'm not your only client. I'm available any time." Newbury put the receiver down.
chapter thirteen
"Well that went down like the veritable lead balloon. Now, Good morning, Miss Barnes."
“’Morning, I said I’m sorry I’m late.”
“O.K. by me.”
“- and also about last night.”
“What about last night?” replied Brakespeare, his pulse quickening.
Lisa was awkward. Her usual direct gaze faltered and she looked at the floor.
“Well, I sort of rushed off, didn’t I.“ There was a silence as Brakespeare said nothing.
“I had to, I promised to see – a friend.”
“ I see.”
“Do you, I don’t think so. You see I don’t get to see my friend very often, and I said that I would last night.”
Brakespeare noted that she was choosing her words carefully; omitting any reference to the friend’s gender, and felt his heart sink a little as he guessed it was male. Nonetheless she looked almost guilty.
“That’s alright. I quite understand. Now, what are we going to do with this frigging letter?”
Lisa immediately looked up and smiled. The moment had passed.
“It all seems a waste of time now, doesn’t it?”
“Well, things to seem to be moving forward rather more rapidly than I expected. However knowing how the prosecution system works, even if we had been able to write the letter a week or so ago, I doubt if it would have made much difference to what has happened. Don’t forget that the C.P.S. will have been working on the file for a long time now, and their case will have a momentum of it’s own.”
“A juggernaut?”
“That’s a good way of putting it. We might as well let it go. It might just have an effect. If it works, it works…”
“And if it doesn’t it will keep David Newberry happy.”
Jonny stood up. “That’s it my girl. Always keep the punters happy. Go and type it out, and I’ll check it.”
As if by magic Margaret walked through the door. Her face brightened as Brakespeare said. “Work to do, Margaret”. In her hand she had a shorthand pad and pencil.
“Firstly, can you ring this man Breezie’s clerk and see when he is available to have a conference with Mr. Newberry. “
“Have you any idea when?”
“Well that brings me onto the second item. I’m going to dictate some Instructions to Breezie. They’ll be pretty short, but we need to copy him the papers.!
Margaret’s face fell. “Do you mean the contents of all those boxes?”
Brakespeare laughed. “No, not all of them just the witness statements, which is about a box and a half. Then there’ll be the computer spreadsheets that Lisa prepared, and then a copy of the letter she’s just finishing off. If you give it priority, you should be able to finish it today – I hope?” He raised his voice at the end of the sentence to ask a question, to which Margaret nodded in answer.
“So assuming he gets his Instructions Monday, depending how busy he is, I would have thought some time in the next fortnight, but sooner rather than later. Next week if possible”
“I’ll see what his clerk says. Should I see what dates suit Mr Newberry.”
Again Brakespeare laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he’s always available.”
Margaret pulled a face.
“Sorry am I being unsympathetic? asked Brakespeare.
“I apologise. Anyway make sure that I am free. I have no doubt that I’ll have to be chauffeur.”
“Very good. Is there anything else?” Margaret asked.
“I was just trying to think. It all seems straightforward. I’ll start dictating the Instructions, and this lot”, he indicated the pile of files waiting his attention, “will have to wait until later. There’s nothing urgent in the post is there?”
Margaret shook her head.
She shut the notepad in which she had been making busy notes, and left the room.
Brakespeare reached for his dictation mini cassette recorder and started to walk round the room. It was an old habit of his. In his mind he worked what he was going to say about the case; keeping it to as little as possible, so that the barrister could look at it with a fresh pair of eyes, while at the same time being pointed in the right direction.
He often told clients that he, as a solicitor was the equivalent of a family doctor, and that barristers were the specialists.
He was relieved that some of the burden of defending Newberry had been lifted from his shoulders. From now on all he would have to do was to prepare the case as Breezie wanted. Lisa had found a possible weakness in the prosecution case; it would be for Breezie to use his own forensic skills to exploit that.
“What on earth are you doing?” Lisa stood in the door with the draft letter in her hand , and a grin on her face as he paced up and down.
“Sorry, I can think better on my feet. I was just dictating Counsel’s instructions.”
“Instructions? I thought that barristers had briefs.”
“They do, but only when they are going into court for a hearing. If you are going to ask a barrister to advise, in a conference, as we are, then he receives instructions.”
“There, I’ve learnt something new. Here’s the letter. Do you want to check it now or shall I leave it on your desk?”
“No let me read it. I’m going to send a copy to Breezie with the Instructions. It sums up our case pretty succinctly I think.”
“Shall I send a copy to David?”
“I don’t think that we dare not.”
He sat down at his desk again, and took the letter from her. It did not take him long to read it through. He was often surprised at how much he enjoyed reading his own letters, and this one he thought was one of his best.
He smiled inwardly as he imagined the bombshell that was going to be dropped on some unsuspecting lawyers desk in London.
He finished and looked up to see Lisa still watching him intently.
“Do you want to change anything?” she asked.
“No, I think that we got it right the first time,” he replied, careful to use the word ‘we’. “Print it out to go with tonight’s post, and make an extra copy to go with the instructions.”
“Anything else?”
“No, you can help Margaret put the papers together if you want. All the statements have to be copied.”
Lisa pulled a face. “I think that she will probably want to do the preparation by herself. Tracy downstairs will be roped in to do the copying”
“Tracy, is that the spotty one?”
“That’s her. She’s good at copying.”
“And do you have things to do.”
“Sure I have, and so do you by the look of things,” she said glancing at the pile of files by his desk. “See you later”
“Adios.”
The rest of the day went quickly. Efficiency itself, Margaret soon had Counsel’s instructions neatly, though bulkily prepared and had arranged the conference. She came into his office, notebook in hand.
“Next Wednesday.”
“Does….?”
“Mr Newberry know? Yes, I’ve telephoned him and arranged for you to pick him up at twelve o’clock. The conference is at 2.30. That should give you time to get there.”
“Anything else?” asked Brakespeare with a smile.
Margaret paused, and looked at her notes. She enjoyed being in control. She then looked up.
“Mr Newberry’s not very happy. He thinks that he should have seen Counsel sooner”.
She paused and took a deep breath.
“He feels that the firm is not on top of his case, and – feels that it should be dealt with by someone more senior than a locum. I’m sorry.”
Brakespeare closed his eyes. He was hurt. Did he really have to put up with this? OK he was enjoying getting to grips with a big case like this, but it wasn’t his fault that it still hadn’t been properly prepared – until now.
“Does he want to change solicitors?” he asked half in hope.
Margaret offered no advice.
“I said that you would be calling him.”
“Thank you, Margaret”
“Thank you Mr Brakespeare.” She left the room.
Brakespeare sat down and reached for the telephone, and then decided against making the call.
If Newberry was not happy with his representation, he should have the courage to say so, and not grumble to a secretary. No, let Newberry go hang. He reminded himself that he, Brakespeare, was merely paid by the hour to do a job as a stand in for Gordon Morrison, and if that was not acceptable to the client, then Mortimer and Ridley could sort it out. After all they were indirectly responsible for the situation through their early involvement with Clearfield.
He swung round in his chair and stared out at Deansway. Should he quit? Could he quit? He needed a job and it would not look good if he walked out. Could things get any worse? Here he was living in a strange town, passing lonely evenings in digs without even a television. He did not know how much longer he would be here; that depended on Morrison, and so he could not settle in Worcester; making friends; joining things. At least it was Friday and he could go home for the weekend. It was contact weekend. Seeing the children would cheer him up, but then he would be upset him when he had to say good bye. Could things get any worse?
He turned round again to his desk, and Lisa was in the doorway.
“How long have you been there?” he demanded.
“Not long, but you’re obviously thinking hard, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” she replied demurely. “I’ve finished the letter. Do you want to sign it?”
Newberry hesitated. Should he let Mortimer sign it? Let him take some of the responsibility?
“O.K., let’s have it.” He said grumpily. Another thought came into his head. One which made him feel a little more cheerful.
“Do you want to come to the conference?”
Lisa looked startled. “What with Mr. Breezie, no thanks”
“Why not; we’re going to talk mainly about your work on the spreadsheets”.
Lisa seemed a little agitated.
“No, thanks. It’s not necessary. You understand them.”
“Oh, I thought it would be an afternoon out for you.”
“Not sure I can afford the time, thanks all the same.” She took the signed letter, and left the room.
Brakespeare raised his eyebrows and sighed. Was he going to get anything right with this girl?
chapter fourteen
Brakespeare decided to go the long way home. The quickest way might be to go up the M5, along the M6 and down the M1 to Milton Keynes; the way that he had come, but there was nothing waiting for him there except the room in the house he shared with 3 others, unless Mel, the brown girl, who occupied one of the rooms, was there. Besides it was Friday night and for all that he knew the motorways would be congested with Friday evening traffic.
He chose to drive along the A44 to Evesham; along to Chipping Norton and then to Milton Keynes via Buckingham. He knew that it would be a pleasant drive across the Vale of Evesham and through the Cotswolds, and he was in no hurry.
The roads were busy, but that did not bother him either. He was happy to travel at the speed of the slowest car, and think his thoughts.
It had been a remarkable week; a week for which he had been given no warning by the locum agency. He had been a very nervous ab
out going back to work after his enforced absence.
Would he have taken the job if he had been told about David Newberry? He paused in his thoughts to negotiate Pershore High Street, and admire it’s Georgian architecture, and then out along Bridge Street towards Evesham.
By the time that he had left the town, he had decided that he would have taken the job. From a lawyer’s point of view, the case was interesting. He had rarely found a case to defend which was not an uphill struggle. He always remembered the days when he had been training to be a solicitor.
He had been sent to the Crown Court to sit behind a barrister. The officer in the case was a certain Detective Sergeant Briggs; a man with a reputation for exaggeration in his evidence. He was known, but not affectionately, as Defective Sergeant Briggs.
While waiting for the case to be called, which meant much waiting, he had been drawn into conversation by Briggs, who was not enjoying the delay.
“These Courts are a waste of time” Briggs had said, rather to Brakespeare’s astonishment.
“You know,” continued Briggs, “I only nick a bloke when I know he’s done it. He knows that I know he’s done it, and I know that he knows that I know. Why give him the chance to get away with it? Do they really think that I would waste my time on someone who was innocent.”
Brakespeare had mumbled an incoherent reply, but he had always remembered the conversation.
In some cases you found that where the officer in the case was a Defective Sergeant Briggs, and that usually meant that their casework was sloppy. They were so convinced of the accused’s guilt that they cut corners. In those cases it was fun, yes that was the word, fun catching the police out and put a reasonable doubt in a jury’s mind.
So who had been dealing with Newberry’s case? A D.C. Durkin. The fact that only detective constables appeared to have been involved was bloody amazing.
