Be Careful What You Wish For: Three women, three men, three deaths (Kitty Thomas)

by Sue Nicholls

  ‘I knew she was another one.’ Max is clearly agitated, his cool façade lost.

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘Yes, another woman who had abandoned her husband.’

  ‘Ms Roman shared a house with your wife, did she not?’

  Max is now shuffling his feet and scraping his palm repeatedly through his hair, his elbow jabbing the air as if to nudge away some invisible irritant. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you thought of her in those terms? As a deserter of her husband. Is this also how you viewed your wife, and perhaps their other companion Ms Adu?’

  ‘The world is full of such women. I deal daily with men who find it difficult to cope with life after their wives have left them.’ Max forces his hands back to the edge of the witness box and fixes his eyes on the floor in front of the witness stand.

  ‘And you blame them for the damage they do?’

  ‘No. Not blame. They have become the regular fodder of my business, I suppose you could say.’

  The barrister pulls back a little, allowing pause for thought and a change of tack.

  ‘Tell the court about your childhood, Mr Owen-Rutherford.’

  ‘Objection!’ The members of the jury flinch in unison at the volume of the Counsel for the Prosecution’s words.

  ‘Sustained.’ The judge glares at Porterhouse.

  Porterhouse looks beseeching. ‘May I have a word in private My Lord?’

  ‘Very well. My Chambers.’

  The court waits while Mr Justice William Cannon, David Porterhouse and Philip Fitzsimons leave the room.

  Ten minutes later they return, filing through a high wooden door and back to their respective places.

  Porterhouse stands in front of his witness once more and poses his question again.

  ‘Tell the court about your upbringing, Mr Owen-Rutherford.’

  Max’s elbow stabs the air again and his eyes dart round the room. ‘You want me to tell you about my mother, I suppose. Well, she deserted me. I haven’t seen her since I was seven - apart from one occasion in my early twenties, when she made it perfectly plain that she had no interest in me.’

  ‘And how was life with your father?’

  Max’s shoulders slump. ‘He didn’t want me. I spent most of my childhood with my grandfather. My unhappy childhood is the reason I became a counsellor. Anger, violence, resentment, I know about these things first-hand. I wanted to…’

  ‘Tell me: what are your hobbies?’

  ‘Objection.’ Fitzsimons’ voice reports like a gunshot, across the court room.

  ‘Overruled.’

  ‘I don’t have much spare time. I like to eat out.’

  ‘Did you eat out at the restaurant called Feast, in Chelterton High Street?’

  Max stares at the lawyer in silence.

  ‘Mr Owen-Rutherford, did you eat at Feast?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And was that restaurant run by Ms Millicent Adu?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Not sure Mr Owen-Rutherford. That seems unlikely seeing that Ms Adu was a friend of your wife and shared a house with her. A bit of a co-incidence, don’t you agree?’

  Max mutters something inaudible.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Owen-Rutherford, would you repeat that for the benefit of the jury, please?’

  Max straightens up. ‘It does seem a coincidence. I didn’t know she was a housemate of my wife.’

  ‘Surely we can’t believe that. Surely Fee would have talked to you about Millie, who ran a restaurant and Twitch, who suffered from depression. I imagine, Mr Owen-Rutherford, that between them, Mr and Mrs Thomas fed you much information about the goings on at that house in Crispin Road.

  ‘Do you have any other hobbies, Mr Owen-Rutherford?’

  ‘I don’t get much time for a social life.’

  ‘How about gambling? Do you like a flutter now and then?’

  Max takes a sip of his water and lowers the glass slowly onto the ledge beside him. He lifts his eyes. ‘I do occasionally have a bet, yes.’

  ‘Indeed. Is it not true to say that you have lost thousands of pounds and that you are in debt to the tune of approximately £150,000?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Owen-Rutherford. That will be all.’

  ***

  ‘The prosecution calls Detective Inspector Colin Robins.’

  DI Robins takes the stand and swears to tell the truth. His handsome face is sombre and business like.

  Philip Fitzsimons advances towards the stand, his expression, as usual, banal. ‘Are you in charge of the investigation into Mrs Fiona Rutherford, carried out by Detective Sergeant Bailey?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I believe that the matter was passed to you by the Mauritian police. Is that correct?’

  The senior officer nods. ‘Indeed. I received a telephone call from an Inspector Kipling on 15th November 2002.’

  ‘And did you get the impression from Inspector Kipling that Mr Thomas was guilty?’

  ‘He gave no such impression, although he did reveal that Mr and Mrs Rutherford had come to Mauritius to marry and that they were on their honeymoon. Apparently, they had made themselves popular in their hotel and were regular visitors at the restaurant where they had booked a table when the murder occurred.’

  The barrister angles his head. ‘But of course, there were no witnesses, so you had to investigate both Mr Rutherford and Mr Thomas, did you not?’

  ‘We knew Mr Rutherford had been accused repeatedly by Mr Thomas, but we could find no indication that Mr Rutherford had ever behaved in a dangerous or violent way. He had no criminal record. He had bought the glasses of wine and thrown them to the ground exactly as he claimed when he started to run towards the crag.

  ‘He did admit to hiding his identity from Mrs Rutherford, but we were happy with his explanation that this was to protect his professional reputation.

  ‘Mr Thomas on the other hand, was already known to us as a violent man so we concentrated our resources on his movements. We interviewed his young daughter, Kitty, who advised us that Mr Thomas had been seen hiding in the bushes opposite the house, where she and Mrs Rutherford, then Thomas, lived.

  ‘Further investigation revealed cigarette ends containing Mr Thomas’s DNA in those bushes. Three further witnesses,’ he pauses to consult his notes, ‘Mrs Margaret Stonier of 22 Gressingham Avenue, the road that runs down the side of Gressingham playing field, and Mrs Gloria Adu and Mr Michael Adu, both known to the defendant, witnessed him on other occasions emerging from the park into Gressingham Road.’

  The defendant has a history of violence, and Mr Rutherford’s notes from their sessions together revealed that he was obsessed with his wife. He would become angry at the mention of her name. He blamed her for their breakup and as soon as he found she was re-marrying, booked an expensive flight to pursue her.

  ‘When he arrived at the hotel in Mauritius where the Rutherfords were staying, he spoke to the manager rudely and displayed aggressive behaviour.’

  The barrister turns his eyes to the jury to observe a broad, round shouldered woman with orange hair, shaking her head and making a note on her pad. Others mutter and shuffle and a young woman, pregnant by the looks of it, bites her bottom lip. The nail of victory is being driven in and he raises the hammer once more.

  Thank you, inspector. Now if we may, we will hear a little more about Mr Thomas’s violence.’

  Every scowl and punch is pulled apart until the jury begins to yawn. Fitzsimons recognises that his job is done and sits down.

  ***

  You allege that Mr Thomas committed an act of rape on Mrs Sabrina Roman, of 63 Crispin Road.’

  The officer nods, ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘At any time, did the police receive a complaint from Ms Roman to that effect?’

  ‘No. Mrs Roman never reported the incident.’

  ‘Was there any subsequent DNA evidence to indicate that Mr Thomas had committed the offence?’

 
; ‘We found his fingerprints at the house, but no semen.’

  ‘And Mrs Roman is now deceased?’

  ‘Yes. She was murdered. We were already investigating Mr Thomas for her murder when he was arrested in Mauritius.’

  ‘Any evidence of rape on the corpse?’

  ‘Ms Roman drowned and spent some considerable time in the water. Her body was badly damaged.’

  ‘Not so badly that you couldn’t tell she had been forcibly drowned.’ The tiny barrister pushes back the sides of his jacket with his wrists and shoves his hands into the pockets of his impeccable trousers. ‘The arrest in Mauritius was just what you needed then. A very convenient corroboration of what you already suspected.’

  DI Robins does battle with his face. ‘We carried out a thorough investigation into Mr Thomas’s movements, as I’ve already stated.’

  The barrister raises a hand. ‘Ah yes, indeed you did, into the movements of Mr Thomas, but did you check on Mr Rutherford’s movements? Was his DNA behind the bushes opposite that house in Crispin Road? Were his notes made at the time of his interviews with my client, or later? Did you investigate any of those things Detective Inspector?’

  Robins forces his words out. ‘No, we did not, but…’

  ‘So, in fact, you have no evidence that my client committed rape, no evidence that he pushed Mrs Owen-Rutherford over that cliff and no evidence that Mr Owen-Rutherford wrote his notes at the time of his consultation with Mr Thomas. I think it is safe to say that you have no case against my client.’

  Up in his enclosure Paul’s face beams. One might imagine him clapping and cheering but he restrains himself.

  ‘No further questions My Lord.’ David Porterhouse sweeps back to his chair with an air of contented competence.

  ***

  ‘The prosecution calls Paul Thomas.’

  Standing in position, Paul’s face is calm, and his body relaxed.

  The prosecutor walks towards him wearing a grim expression. ‘Would you tell the court why you consulted Mr Owen Rutherford, Mr Thomas?’

  Paul assumes a position like a policeman. His hands are cupped over his genitals and his chin is firm and sure. He looks straight at the barrister. ‘I was angry. I blamed Fee – my ex-wife for our breakup and the cold-hearted way she walked out with Kitty, my daughter. I was bad tempered at work, and Iris, a colleague, told me to go and get help with the anger.’

  ‘You certainly were angry, weren’t you? You beat up two men, frightened your daughter with your violence, raped a woman…’

  ‘I didn’t rape anyone.’

  ‘Well, Mr Thomas, according to the notes made by Mr Rutherford at the time of your consultation with him, you admitted to the rape, denying responsibility and insisting that she led you on.’

  Paul holds his stance and remains calm. ‘I did not rape Twitch.’

  ‘Well I suppose you would say that, knowing there is no evidence to prove it.’

  ‘I did not rape her.’ His voice remains steady.

  ‘Do you deny that you broke a man’s foot in a brawl?’

  Paul looks at the jury ‘I don’t deny that. I was defend…’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Thomas.’

  ‘And how about your neighbour, whose music player was ruined, did you hit him?’

  ‘I’m afraid I did. He was making so much noi…’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Thomas.’

  ‘You saw Mr Owen-Rutherford in Chelterton one day, when you were with your friends Mr Adu and Mr Roman, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you lied to them, didn’t you? You told them he was a neighbour.’

  ‘I did but…’

  ‘Thank you.

  ‘Now, moving onto Mauritius if I may.’ The lawyer does not wait for permission. ‘You discovered that Mr Owen-Rutherford was in a relationship with your ex-wife and that they were going on holiday together, so in fury, you purchased a highly priced ticket and followed her out there with the express purpose of murdering her.’

  Paul grips his balls and swallows, but he does not let his posture slip. ‘I did not have any intention of murdering her.’

  ‘But you couldn’t help yourself.’

  ‘I did not murder Fee,’ Paul meets the eyes of his aggressor with as much composure as he can muster.

  The barrister continues his attack, his aim to incur fury, to enable the jury to experience first-hand the anger and violence of this person on the stand, but Paul has been primed by Porterhouse and he stands firm, the only hint of his feelings, a slight tensing of the jaw.

  ***

  When Porterhouse bounces to his feet to cross examine, Paul’s shoulders and face muscles relax just a little.

  ‘When you began your sessions with Mr Owen-Rutherford, did you find him helpful?’

  Paul nods three times. ‘Yes. It took a while but eventually I realised that I was as much at fault as Fee. He showed me how to manage my anger. I’m a better man because of Max.’

  ‘That’s very magnanimous of you, considering you tell us that the man murdered your wife.’

  ‘You asked me the question and I am telling you the truth.’ Paul’s breath speeds up, ‘If you asked me how I feel about him now I’d…’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Thomas. Just answer my questions if you would.’

  Paul pulls his head up and resumes his stance.

  There is a short pause as Porterhouse strolls across the court and consults his notes. Paul takes slow, deep breaths.

  ‘What did you talk about with Mr Owen-Rutherford?’

  ‘To start with I was so mad with Fee, I think I ranted and raved quite a bit. Max kept asking me questions, trying to get me to think about our relationship from Fee’s point of view, and eventually I got what he meant.’

  ‘And what was that.’

  ‘I was a selfish ba… idiot and did nothing much to contribute to our marriage.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘No. I worked it out for myself.’

  Questions are served and answers returned in the court where no tennis ball is ever seen. The lawyer draws from Paul a picture of his trust in Max, and Max’s unreasonable interest in Fee and her home life. Paul’s attack on the neighbour is revisited. Yes, Paul admits, he was stupid, but he was protecting his small daughter and dog, who were frightened.

  In mitigation of his attack on the youths in the Chinese restaurant Paul was able to explain how rude and threatening their behaviour had been to the very likeable proprietor and his wife, and that he was defending them. He told how the owners were so grateful that they gave him his meal without charge.

  ‘Why did you follow Fee to Mauritius, Paul?’

  ‘I was worried about her. At first, I thought I was being over dramatic but the more I thought about it the more I realised how much Max knew about her, through me. I don’t know what made me think she was in danger. Probably the way Max had used a different name and lied about his job. It didn’t feel right, so I hot footed it over there to see for myself.

  ‘That was very foolhardy and expensive wasn’t it, Mr Thomas?’

  ‘I didn’t think about that. Something in my gut told me she was in danger.’

  ‘How did you feel about your ex-wife Mr Thomas?’

  Paul relaxes his stance and puts his palm to the back of his neck, dropping his eyes to the edge of the witness box.

  ‘I loved her.’

  ***

  The defence case begins.

  ‘No. I never saw him lose his temper.’ Gloria stands upright in the box, one hand resting on the wooden edge, the other hanging at her hip. She is still in the position she had assumed while she swore to tell the truth.

  David Porterhouse strolls to the edge of the box and looks into her eyes. ‘But surely you knew what he was capable of. Mrs Thomas must have confided in you about his behaviour.’

  Gloria stands tall and shakes her head. ‘She was a very private person. She didn’t really confide anythin’ about Paul to me. And I didn’t ask her. You hav
e to respect people’s feelin’s.’

  ‘But Kitty was upset by a particular incident was she not? When her father was violent towards his neighbours.’

  ‘Yes, she was for a while but not for long because she loves her father. It was a storm in a teacup, that.’

  The lawyer scans his notes for a short time. ‘We’ve heard evidence from the police that Mr Thomas hid in the bushes and spied on you all. Did you ever see him?’

  ‘No never. I think he had trouble adjustin’ to bein’ on his own. He isn’t the type to kill anyone.’

  ‘Please restrict yourself to answering the questions Mrs Adu.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘He is accused of raping Mrs Roman. Did you get any impression that this happened?

  ‘None at all. Twitch was a depressive. She had her ups and downs, but I never thought there was any reason for that. I know she suffered from post-natal depression in the past.’

  ‘And Kitty was happy to go off with her father?’

  ‘Oh yes. She loved her Daddy. He bought a dog, just for her, and they walked it and trained it together. He’s a good Dad.’

  The lawyer changes his tone to one of gentle enquiry. ‘Mrs Adu, was Fee wealthy?’

  Gloria frowns. ‘I don’t know. She had savin’s I think because there was never any problem buyin’ what was needed. Her father had lots of money. He helped her with a deposit when she first moved into that house. I got the feelin’ she had come into quite a bit when he died, and she had a well-paid job, until all this dyin’ started. She gave that up to help me look after the kiddies.’

  ‘Did she make any provision for the children’s futures in the event of her death?’

  Gloria nods. ‘Yes. She showed me where her will was, and life insurance certificates. The children will be fine, financially, thank God.’ Gloria touches her crucifix. ‘She left everything to her next of kin. That’s the kiddies, right?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Adu.’

  The prosecution has no questions.

  ***

  Maurice’s fists are clenched and moisture slithers between his fingers. He opens his hands and moves them slightly to cool in the air. ‘I’ve known Mr Thomas for a couple of years. We met when our wives deserted us.’