Prisoner at the Bar

by Roderic Jeffries

  *

  “Here’s your grub,” said the warder. “That fish looks good. My brother fishes off the coast, but never gets anything of any size but cod. Cod’s all right, I say, just providing you’re starving.” He put the tray down on the table in the centre of the cell.

  “I don’t want anything,” said Bladen.

  The warder, a jolly man with a wide-angle moustache that looked as if it had been over-fertilised, looked down at Bladen. “Starving never did anything for anyone but kill ’em.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “That’s up to you, but I’ll leave it here.”

  The warder left. The cell door clanged shut, the bolts clanged home, the key clicked in the lock.

  He lit a cigarette. The law — the law which he revered — had publicly destroyed Katherine. It had made a public spectacle of her intense mental agony.

  She had told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — as she had sworn to do — and no one had believed her. No one would believe him. It was human nature to want to believe scandal and it was human nature to be certain that if a man lied once, the rest of the story was lies. Innocence was powerless against human nature.

  Why didn’t he just plead guilty? What made a man go on and on battering his head against a brick wall? He would tell the court that he and Katherine had done no more in the car than kiss, he would swear this, and the twelve men and women of the jury would know him as a liar… He stubbed out the cigarette. He was filled with an appalling sense of utter impotence. He could do anything or nothing and the result would be precisely the same. He was the central figure of the tragedy, but had become immaterial to it.

  He was a man who had fought his way through life and the habit died hard. To admit to impotence was to be impotent: to deny the use of fighting was to be defeated. There had to be something he could do, some small gesture of defiance he could make. If the jury would never believe the truth… Then, his mind suddenly shouted, might they not believe a lie, based on a lie they believed?

  With rising excitement, his trained mind recalled the evidence. The suddenly raised hope became much less. Innocence wasn’t proved that simply. Thompson had been murdered, so someone had murdered him. Only Elmer, safe and sound and miles away from the courtroom, could ever convince them that Robert Bladen wasn’t that someone…

  But was Elmer quite that safe and sound? True, he had not been called to give evidence in the trial, but his passion in life was possession and a man’s passion was his weakness. He had possessed Katherine because she was beautiful and intelligent and a possession other men would covet. Elmer would do anything to avoid reaching the point where he would be seen not to have been man enough to hold on to his possessions: if he had no option but to realise that his possessions had been taken from him, however, then his ruthlessly vindictive nature must ensure that he did all he could to get his own back to show the world he was to be greatly feared, even in failure.

  He, Bladen, had always believed in loyalty to justice. Because of that loyalty, he was now in court on a charge of murder on which he was going to be found guilty. It was time for such loyalty to be torn into a thousand shreds.

  *

  It was early afternoon on the second day of the trial. Tutt had opened the defence briefly and skilfully, avoiding as many of the facts as he could. Bladen was a barrister, a man of honour, a man who, obviously against all his interests, had told the police he’d been in Lovers’ Lane the night of the murder. Had he not done so, he wouldn’t now be in the dock. Honesty had brought an honest man to trial for a crime he had not committed.

  Bladen was called to the witness box. He took the oath and answered the preliminary questions. He could see Katherine, at the end of the second bench, a small, lost figure.

  “What happened on the night of the eighteenth?” asked Tutt.

  Bladen looked away from Katherine. “We had a meal at The Salamander and afterwards drove to Lovers’ Lane.”

  Tutt looked at Bladen with angry perplexity. How, his look said, could Bladen, be such a fool as to call the lane by its name and so suggest he’d known from the beginning what it was called? “Why did you go there?”

  “To be on our own.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “Made love.”

  There was an immediate outbreak of noise. Katherine, shocked, stared wildly at Bladen. Tutt, ignoring the tugs on his gown from Vallis, leaned forward and spoke to Coombsley.

  The usher called for silence and the hubbub slowly died away.

  Tutt stood upright and polished his glasses. “I will put that question to you again, Mr. Bladen, and when you answer it please pay careful attention to the ordinary meaning of the words. What did you and Mrs. Curson do in the car that night?”

  “We made sexual love.”

  The noise of talking broke out again.

  Katherine called out: “That’s not true, you know it’s not.”

  “You indulged in physical acts of love?” asked Tutt.

  “Yes,” said Bladen.

  “It isn’t true,” shouted Katherine, for the second time. The judge spoke in a kindly voice. “Mrs. Curson, you must not interrupt the witness.”

  “But we didn’t, I swear we didn’t.” For the second time that day, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Would you not be happier if you left the courtroom?”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to be quiet.”

  She bowed her head.

  “Yes, Mr. Tutt,” said the judge.

  Tutt picked up the proof, then put it down again with a gesture of angry bewilderment. “Did anything unusual happen while you were in the car?”

  “Whilst we were in the middle of… of an embrace, I thought I saw a face in a bush beyond the car.” Bladen stared at the man at the end of the front row in the jury box. He was fat, with the fleshy face and thick lips of a would-be suburban libertine. His mind would be very busy reconstructing the scene. “I pulled my clothes together and got out of the car to see if there was anyone there. I couldn’t find anyone.”

  Tutt leaned back and spoke to Vallis, who had been busy taking notes. He stood upright. “Did you again visit this lane?”

  “Katherine and I went there on the thirtieth of September.”

  “What happened?”

  “We parked in the bay — the one everyone’s been talking about. We undressed as much as was necessary and then made love.” There wasn’t a member of the jury who disbelieved him now, he thought. They had expected dirt, were ready to believe dirt, and were now getting it. The man with thick lips was wondering exactly what they’d done: the spinsterish woman in the centre of the back row was looking shocked, but shocked in a secretly pleasurable way. He looked round at the witness seats. Katherine was looking… He jerked his gaze away. “Afterwards, we smoked. When we’d finished our cigarettes, we made love again.” If you were going to lie, then add all the frills. A cigarette in between the frenzied bouts of love-making showed the right kind of casual approach. “We had just finished when I saw the bushes move. I said I thought there was a man outside and I was going to teach him to stay at home.

  “I pulled my clothes together and then threw open the door and jumped out. I hadn’t realised how close to the bush the car was. Thompson — although I didn’t know who he was then — had been bending down just inside the bush, looking into the car. I moved so quickly he was caught unawares and the door crashed into his face. He reeled out of the bush and before I could do anything he staggered forward to the edge of the land and fell over. I was so shocked I couldn’t think straight. I had to see what had happened to him and tried to climb down the rock face. I slipped, fell, and landed feet first on him. I bent down to see if there was anything I could do, but that’s when he died.

  “I returned to the car. Katherine didn’t really know what had happened and of course I didn’t tell her. I quickly drove away. I didn’t need to be told the posi
tion I was in. If I reported what had happened, the police would carry out an investigation and Elmer Curson would learn what his wife and I had been doing. Thompson was dead, so nothing could be done for him… I decided to take the coward’s way out and say nothing.

  “Next evening I read in the papers that the police were asking who’d been in the lane and I began to panic. Work in the courts had taught me how there always seemed to be someone around who became an eye-witness and I became convinced someone must have seen our car and would report the fact to the police. If the police came to me they’d be suspicious and ask all sorts of questions. That’s why I went to the police and told them what I did — hoping to divert any suspicion. Before I went to them, I cleaned the car door, my boots, my clothes, and did everything I could think of to try and hide what had happened… How was I to know Thompson had picked up one of Katherine’s hairs from my coat?

  “When the police discovered the woman I’d been with was Katherine, we had to lie to try and hide the truth from Elmer.

  “I swear Thompson’s death was a complete accident.”

  *

  Stimpson addressed the Bench. “My Lord, in view of the new evidence we have heard, I must ask for an adjournment.”

  “Am I permitted to adjourn the court in the circumstances, Mr. Stimpson?” The judge picked up a thick textbook from the small book rack on the desk.

  “My Lord, we are dealing with new evidence that must be checked…”

  “New evidence, Mr. Stimpson? Surely we have no more and no less than an unforeseen line of defence?” He opened the textbook and read, then looked up. “The authorities are reasonably clear. Adjournments except to the next day are not permitted after the jury is sworn or evidence called.”

  “Then, my Lord, I ask for an adjournment until tomorrow. I would point out that the prosecution is otherwise placed at a very serious disadvantage in several ways, not least of which is the fact that both medical experts were excused further attendance.”

  “You will wish to recall them?”

  “I shall be asking your lordship’s permission to do so and to recall the detective inspector.”

  The judge sat back in his chair. He stared dispassionately at Bladen. “In the interests of justice,” he said, “I shall adjourn this case. The hearing will be resumed at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  *

  The pathologist was once more in the box.

  “You have heard the evidence the accused gave yesterday,” said Stimpson. “Will you now please tell the court how you interpret such evidence in view of the facts determined by you.”

  The pathologist adjusted the knot of his grey tie before he answered. “The wound in the deceased’s forehead was, in my opinion, more consistent with having been caused by a long instrument of roughly half an inch thickness than with the very much thinner edge of a car door. Further, I know of no part of the edge of a car door that could inflict the short cross wound to which I have previously referred. However, I have been unable to carry out such tests as would enable me to say quite definitely whether or not a car door could under any circumstances cause such a wound.”

  “And the bruises”

  “It is difficult not to believe that had the accused fallen on to the deceased, as he states, the damage to the flesh of the face would have been more extensive.”

  The judge spoke. “How certain of this can you be?”

  “My Lord, I can only speak from my experience, not having had the chance to carry out the tests that would be necessary.”

  “You said previously in evidence that there was no way of judging when the bruises were caused in relation to the other wounds?”

  “That is so.”

  “Can you deny the possibility of the accused’s evidence?”

  “I cannot deny it, my Lord. I can only say that my experience makes it very difficult for me to believe it.”

  *

  “Inspector,” said Stimpson, “did you originally search the accused’s car just before you decided to make an arrest?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Whicheck.

  “Have you further searched it?”

  “I did so last night, together with Detective Sergeant East-brook.” From the dark circles under Whicheck’s eyes, it seemed probable he had had no sleep.

  “What did you discover?”

  “Nothing, sir. We removed the off-side driving door and this was taken to Denbrington forensic laboratory. We searched the rest of the car without finding any marks or stains of significance.”

  *

  Moores, the county forensic scientist, also showing signs of having worked through the night, gave his evidence in his usual unhurried style. “There was no damage to the door: no paint missing and no dents. We dismantled the door as far as was possible and tested all surfaces for signs of blood. We found none.”

  *

  The foreman of the jury was called to deliver the verdict. He was a scholarly looking man with a high-pitched voice. He gave the majority verdict of guilty.

  Chapter 17

  A young clerk showed Katherine into the solicitor’s office. The room was a large one and although the furniture was in no way smart, it had about it an air of solid, dependable prosperity. Tullett, who came round the desk, was middle-aged and grey-haired. He had a quiet but forceful manner and his reputation was very high.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Curson.” He held ready a comfortable leather armchair for her to sit in. Once she was seated, he returned behind the desk.

  “I had some papers this morning,” she said. “My husband is going to divorce me.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Tullett formally. He hoped she was not surprised. It had been quite certain there would be a divorce since Curson was not the man to forgive a wife who had publicly been branded an adulteress.

  She opened her handbag and brought out a folded brown paper envelope, sent by registered post, which she put on the desk. By leaning forward, he was able to pick it up.

  After quickly scanning through the papers inside, he looked up. “This is the normal form of petition, Mrs. Curson. We have to sign and return the acknowledgement of service. If you don’t wish to contest the proceedings there’s no need to do anything more: if you do, we enter an appearance and then file an answer…”

  “There’s no question,” she said, her voice high. “I did not commit adultery.”

  “Mrs. Curson, I would point out the fact that a defended divorce is a very much nastier business than an undefended one. The most degrading”

  “I did not commit adultery.”

  He leaned back in his chair.

  “I don’t care what Bob said in court, we didn’t commit adultery. Please, won’t even you believe me?”

  He found himself unable to know how to answer her appeal.

  She gripped the straps of her handbag. “How could Bob have said what he did? How? He always said he loved me.” She stared straight at Tullett. “I know I was married to Elmer, but that couldn’t stop me loving Bob. Yet I was physically faithful to Elmer. How could Bob have said in court…” She stopped and swallowed heavily.

  He was saddened by the sight of such intense misery.

  “I couldn’t ever have done such a thing,” she suddenly said passionately.

  “Mrs. Curson, he was charged with murder. The penalty for that is life imprisonment.”

  “Well?”

  He chose his words very carefully. “A man faced with so terrible a penalty is likely to try any means of escape.”

  “If I’d been in his place, I wouldn’t — I couldn’t — have made such a betrayal. What was the use of it — he was still found guilty? Could his story ever have been believed?”

  “I rather doubt it. But he was a desperate man.”

  “Desperate enough to degrade me.”

  There was a short silence.

  “Bob must have known he’d fail, that he was betraying me for nothing.” She let go of her handbag. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a sce
ne.”

  “You haven’t,” he answered. “I’m so sorry that this is something beyond my powers to help.”

  “I’ll live.” She spoke bitterly.

  He offered her a cigarette, but she refused. He smoked. Curson, as was to be expected, was claiming damages from Bladen. Bladen had suffered the terrible penalty of life imprisonment, but he was still to be pursued as harshly as the law allowed.

  “If we didn’t commit adultery, Elmer can’t prove we did,” she said suddenly.

  Tullett laid his cigarette down on the ashtray. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mrs. Curson. Adultery is like…” He was going to say murder, but hastily stopped himself. “Adultery is not an act that is usually carried out before witnesses. The commission of it is inferred from the circumstances.”

  “But you can’t mean…” She stopped.

  “If a married woman goes with another man twice to a spot well known to courting couples, the court may decide that in the circumstances and together with the available evidence, the inference may be drawn that adultery has taken place.”

  “The law… The law’s cruel.”

  “I’m afraid it sometimes is.”

  *

  Bladen, uncomfortable boots clattering, walked along the cat-walk, past the line of cell doors on his right. On his left was the open square that went down to the ground floor and around which was stretched thick metal mesh to prevent any attempt at suicide.

  “Look sharp,” snapped the warder.

  This warder seemed specially to resent him, though this could have been imagination. There was a very different relationship, as he’d quickly learned, between the warders and a man in custody awaiting trial and a convicted man. All was now sharp suspicion, cold authority, and, perhaps, even a touch of sadistic pleasure.

  They went down iron stairs and through a doorway that had to be unlocked and then relocked by the warder.

  “In there,” said the warder, pointing to the first of the interview rooms.

  Bladen went in. Premble was there, having obtained this private meeting under the guise of being a legal adviser.