Dead Against the Lawyers

by Roderic Jeffries

  He had not been in chambers that Tuesday night, yet the evidence was saying that he had and that he had shot Corry: Charlotte had not been near chambers that Tuesday night, yet the evidence was saying that she had and that Corry had been her lover. How could evidence be so wrong?

  What was that bitch, Rachael West, going to say in the witness-box? If she testified that Charlotte had frequently borrowed her car and driven off somewhere when officially she was at Rachael’s house, what were people going to think? ‘Oh, God!’ he cried aloud. He knew Charlotte through and through: she couldn’t descend to anything so sordid as an affair. But how was he going to make others understand that?

  The cell door opened and a warder said that his lawyers wanted a word with him. Seconds later, Cheesman, Whits, and Jackley came in. The steel door shut with a clang that shivered the soul.

  All his fears came welling out. ‘Why aren’t you attacking the witnesses more?’

  Cheesman, a worried expression on his face, looked quickly at Jackley.

  ‘You’ve got to fight. Fight, d’you hear? You let the detective inspector get away with everything.’

  The newcomers sat down, Cheesman and Whits on the bunk and Jackley on the chair.

  ‘It’s a difficult case, Radwick,’ said Cheesman.

  ‘You can’t damn’ well tell me anything about it I don’t know.’

  ‘There’s a pile of evidence against us.’

  Holter crossed the floor until he stood immediately in front of the bunk. ‘I’m innocent. I wasn’t near chambers and Charlotte wasn’t either. The evidence is all goddamn lies. You’ve got to attack.’

  ‘Radwick, you must leave the handling of the case to me. I’m the best judge of what course to take.’

  The attempt to pacify him by using a formula he had so often spoken to his own clients angered Holter even more. ‘I’ve left it all to you and where in the hell has it got me?’

  ‘It’s far too early to say.’

  ‘Maybe it’s far too early for you, but it isn’t for me. I’m looking at a convicted murderer when I stare into a mirror. If I’d been handling the defence the cross-examination of the inspector would have been a hell of a sight more effective.’

  ‘We don’t all conduct a defence alike, Radwick.’

  ‘No, by God! we don’t, more’s the pity. You’ve let the judge get away with everything.’

  Cheesman allowed a little of his anger to show. ‘In my opinion, it does not pay to bandy words with a judge.’

  ‘And in mine it does, when the bloody fool shows the partiality Proctor’s showing. If you don’t stand up to him, the jury will think you haven’t a case.’

  ‘They could just be right.’

  Holter’s voice rose. ‘Do you believe I shot Corry?’

  Cheesman was about to answer when Jackley hastily intervened. ‘It must be a little difficult,’ he said, with all the smooth tact he could muster, ‘for you, Mr Holter, to have to watch someone else conduct the defence.’

  ‘Damned difficult and unrewarding.’

  ‘Every man has his own methods.’

  ‘And most of them are wrong.’

  ‘I really can assure you we’re doing our very best for you.’

  ‘Maybe, but I happen to be intimately concerned with just how effective your best is. I was the last one to leave chambers and Corry was with me, but we separated in the street and I went one way and he went the other. That’s all I know about anything.’

  ‘There was a woman present,’ said Cheesman.

  ‘If there was, she wasn’t Charlotte.’

  ‘But we can’t ignore the evidence of that eye-witness, Wallace. He saw a woman leave the building and from the description of her clothes it could only have been your wife.’

  ‘She wasn’t there.’

  ‘Radwick, it’s doing far more harm than good to go on ignoring the facts ...’

  ‘The facts are, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t bloody well there.’

  Cheesman shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right,’ he muttered. There was a long pause before he spoke again. ‘Let’s get onto this trail of blood. It’s certain the body was dragged across to the desk. Can you suggest any reason for this unless it was to dump the body under the photograph of your wife?’

  ‘A thousand and one reasons.’

  ‘That the jury will swallow? Radwick, can’t you see ... Never mind. Why did you hide that photograph of your wife?’

  ‘I didn’t. I found it in the bottom drawer.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell the inspector about it?’

  ‘Well, I ... I supposed I panicked.’

  ‘Innocent men don’t panic.’

  ‘This one bloody well did. The moment I saw the blood on the frame I remembered the trail of blood. It was obvious someone had tried to suggest I’d shot Corry and dragged the body across.’

  ‘Wouldn’t this person have left the photo on top of the desk where it would be bound to draw the attention of the police?’

  ‘That’s just what he didn’t do, did he?’

  ‘But that’s the obvious question the jury are going to ask. You then tried to smuggle the photo out of chambers.’

  ‘I didn’t want anyone to start getting the same kind of idea as I had.’

  ‘That’s not much of an explanation for the jury.’

  ‘Hang the jury.’

  ‘It’ll pay you to remember the boot’s on the other foot.’

  ‘I’m not having anyone say Charlotte was in chambers with that gigolo.’

  There was another pause.

  Whits whispered to Cheesman, who spoke to Holter.

  ‘Suppose that trail of blood was made to try to incriminate you? Any idea who would have done such a thing?’

  ‘D’you think I’d allow myself to be shut up here if I could answer?’

  ‘It would have to be someone from chambers.’

  ‘No one in chambers would do such a thing.’

  ‘But somebody did.’ Cheesman stood up and the other two followed suit. Jackley knocked on the door of the cell. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ said Cheesman.

  The door was opened by the warder. Cheesman led the way outside.

  Just before the cell door was slammed shut, Holter thought he heard Cheesman refer to the impossibility of helping a sick doctor who insisted on making his own faulty diagnosis and prognosis. Holter paced the cell floor. Anger and fear flooded through his mind, but they didn’t obscure one essential fact: truth was proving to be a liar and was squeezing the life out of him. When truth was a liar, where did one turn?

  *

  It was midnight. Holter lay in his cell in the prison and listened to the noises outside. He heard the measured tread of a warder, a shout from somewhere that was repeated once, and the almost continuous knocking from the next cell whose sole occupant was said to be mad.

  When truth was a liar, man was impotent. The world ceased to be. Unless ... unless a lie became the truth.

  Chapter Fourteen

  HOLTER, STILL technically innocent, was allowed several ‘privileges’ which would cease the moment he was found guilty. One of these was his right to see his legal advisers during the course of the trial at any reasonable time of the day. On the morning of the second day, he asked to see his solicitor as early as the latter could get to prison.

  Breakfast was brought to his cell by a trusty who whiningly asked for a cigarette. Without thinking about what he was doing, he passed across a three-quarters full packet and it was only after the cell door had been shut and locked that he realized he now had none for himself.

  He ate his breakfast, careless about how it tasted. All his faculties were intent on only one thing, trying to remember every piece of evidence given the previous day.

  Immediately he had finished eating, he lay on the bunk and, as he stared at the ceiling, mentally reviewed all the evidence. Could he get away with it?

  Jackley arrived at eight forty-five and Holter was speaking to him before he was properl
y inside the interview-room. ‘I’m taking over my own defence.’

  Jackley crossed to the table and put down his brief-case. He sat down and brought out some papers. ‘Is that very wise?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t think so.’

  ‘Even in your case it’s not a course I can suggest. Any accused man in naturally totally involved in his own case and he needs to be represented by someone who can remain apart ...’

  ‘I’m not remaining anywhere, to watch the lot of you make a mess of things.’

  Jackley struggled to retain a degree of pleasantness. ‘I’m sure we’ve all been doing our best’

  ‘Which hasn’t been nearly good enough. I want you to get in touch with my wife and ask her to come and see me as soon as she can.’

  ‘I don’t know that that’s possible.’

  ‘Then make it so.’ Holter had regained much of his former belligerence and bombast.

  *

  Almost to his own amazement, Jackley was able to arrange a meeting between Charlotte and Radwick Holter. Half an hour before the court was due to sit, Charlotte and Jackley were shown into the cell beneath the courtroom into which Holter had earlier been transferred. Jackley, who had expected to be present during the consultation, was rudely ordered out.

  Charlotte shivered as the cell door clanged shut.

  Holter stared at her, trying visually to appreciate all the beauty that for so many days had been only in his memory. He longed to run his hands through her blonde hair, to hold her close to himself. ‘Hullo, darling,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Hullo, Radwick,’ she answered, almost in a whisper.

  ‘I’ve been worrying myself sick about you.’

  ‘I’ve ... I’ve been terrified for you, Radwick. It’s been so lonely at home. I keep looking for you and you’re not there.’

  ‘I soon will be.’

  ‘Isn’t the case ... Isn’t it difficult?’

  He laughed. ‘Surely you’re not like the rest of ’em? Forgetting I’m the best criminal lawyer at the Bar?’

  ‘But it all seems so hopeless.’

  ‘Never.’ His tone of voice changed and some of the bluster went out of it. ‘Sit down, Betty.’

  He watched her sit down on the bunk. Her skirt rode up from her knees. The sight of just a little of her upper leg was enough to make his throat go dry, yet he knew every inch of her legs. He sat down. ‘I want you to do something to help me escape prison.’

  She fiddled with the gloves she was carrying.

  ‘It means asking a lot of you.’

  She looked quickly at him and then away. ‘What?’

  For the first time, he was uncertain of himself. He went to speak, but stopped. Then the words came in a rush. ‘I want you to give some evidence in court and say you were in chambers when Corry was shot.’

  She gasped.

  He moved forward until he could take hold of her right hand.

  She jerked her hand free. ‘No,’ she said, shrilly.

  ‘It’s to help me go free.’

  ‘I won’t. I won’t. I swear I wasn’t there.’

  ‘I know you weren’t.’

  ‘Then you can’t ask me to do such a thing.’

  ‘Darling, it’s the only chance I have.’

  ‘What are you trying to do to me?’

  ‘You must understand that if this case goes on as it is now I’m going to be found guilty. Then what will happen to you? We haven’t saved anything since we got married.’

  ‘Whose fault is that? You’ve always said it wasn’t necessary. You told me to spend all I wanted to.’

  ‘Of course I did, because I loved seeing you spend money. But what I’m saying is that if I can’t earn any more, there won’t be much for you.’

  ‘Radwick, you don’t really think I was there, do you?’ She took hold of his hand which she had so recently thrust away from herself. ‘Promise me you don’t think that.’

  ‘I don’t for a second.’

  ‘Then how can you want me to say I was in the room?’

  ‘I’m trying to explain why.’

  ‘Radwick, I’m terrified you may have begun to doubt me. All the time I’ve been at home I’ve imagined you, thinking. But I promise you that I was just driving round the country lanes. I only borrowed Rachael’s car because there seemed to be something wrong with my Merc.’

  ‘My dearest, stop torturing yourself like this. It wouldn’t matter what anyone said, how many filthy lies they told, I wouldn’t begin to doubt you. I love you, Betty, and I know you’ve always told me the truth.’

  ‘But I can’t say I was there.’

  He eased his hand free of hers and stood up. He paced the floor twice and then came to a stop. ‘I know what it means to you, but I promise you there just isn’t any other way. Try to keep on telling yourself how much you’ll be helping me. Look, this is what I’m going to do. I’ll prove you were in chambers that night by using all the lies the prosecution have dredged up. Can you see the wonderful irony in this? When they realize what I’m doing they won’t be able to take any avoiding action because they can’t turn round and try to deny their own lies.’

  ‘Please ... please don’t make me do it.’

  ‘I promise you it won’t be that bad.’

  She ran her tongue along her lips. She shivered again as she had when she first entered the cell. For once, she looked considerably older than she really was.

  Holter paced the cell once more.

  *

  As was the custom at Brackensham Assizes, the arrival in court of the judge each morning was heralded by a trumpet fanfare, played by members of the Kentish Yeomen Light Infantry, in their dress uniforms in bottle green. Mr Justice Proctor, who hated trumpets, waited with scant patience until the noise was over and the trumpeters had left the dais and then he briefly returned counsel’s bows and sat down.

  Adems stood up. ‘My lord ...’

  ‘One moment, Mr Adems.’ The judge spoke to his clerk who left the dais by the door. ‘Yes?’

  ‘My lord, I think you should know immediately that the accused has decided to represent himself for the rest of the trial.’

  Waiting till the buzz of comment had died down, the judge turned and spoke to Holter in the dock. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  The judge pressed his thin lips tightly together and scratched his long, thin chin. ‘Normally, in such an event, I make perfectly certain that the accused realizes the seriousness of the step he proposes to take. In my experience, no prisoner can conduct his case better than his counsel, provided such counsel is of even moderate intelligence and ability. You clearly need no words from me to explain your position, nevertheless I ask you to reconsider your proposal.’

  ‘I don’t need to, my lord.’

  The judge’s expression seemed to become even sourer. ‘Very well. But let one thing be abundantly clear. An accused person who chooses to defend himself is often allowed considerable latitude with regard to the rules of evidence. There will be no such latitude in this instance.’

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ said Holter, as if conferring a favour.

  The trial was resumed. Three witnesses gave evidence which was really formal in nature and those who had expected verbal fireworks from Holter were disappointed. His cross-examination was perfunctory.

  Edward Wallace was called. He was a small man with a loud voice and a belligerent manner. Adems put the preliminary questions to him and he answered them in a voice filled with self-assurance.

  ‘Mr Wallace, do you remember Tuesday, the fifteenth of July?’

  ‘I’ll say I do.’

  ‘Where were you on that day?’

  ‘In Hertonhurst. I works in the bakery.’

  ‘What are your hours of work?’

  ‘Most days I start at five in the morning and carry on to three-thirty in the afternoon. It’s half-day on Wednesdays.’

  ‘What hours did you work on this Tuesday?’

&nbs
p; ‘Same as I’ve just said. I packed up near enough to three-thirty.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘Went and saw my brother what lives in south Hertonhurst and ain’t been very well. I left his place some time after six and caught a bus back to the centre of the town and just missed the connection so I decided to walk home, on account of it not being far. I was just passing the place where all them lawyers work ...’

  ‘Can you tell us what time this was?’

  ‘A quarter to seven. The church clock was striking.’

  ‘Did you know then what building it was you were passing?’

  ‘No, but it was in all the papers next day and I recognized it.’

  ‘Thank you. Please carry on.’

  ‘Well, a woman come running out of the building. In a terrible state, she was. I could see she was in a terrible state.’

  ‘Were you able to see her face?’

  ‘Couldn’t see much of it, no. But it was the way she was acting, all nervous and scared, like. Couldn’t be no mistake.’

  Adems silently cursed the witness who was elaborating his evidence to increase its importance. The more he elaborated, the more open he would be to cross-examination and few people could as destructively cross-examine as Holter.

  ‘Will you please confine yourself to the facts,’ he said sharply.

  ‘She was upset and no mistake and that’s a fact.’

  ‘You have told us you could not see much of her face. Can you otherwise describe her?’

  ‘She was wearing a pink frock with a front that near gave me a heart attack.’

  ‘What does this witness mean?’ said the judge angrily, as he dropped his pencil on to the desk.

  ‘It plunged,’ said Wallace hurriedly. ‘It plunged in the front like it was never going to stop.’

  ‘Can you tell us anything more about it?’ asked Adems.

  ‘There weren’t no belt and it was a very tight fit.’

  ‘You have said it was pink. What kind of pink?’

  ‘A nice bright one.’

  ‘Did you notice anything else about this woman?’

  ‘She had blonde hair, real blonde. With her dress, it made me think of strawberries and cream, not that cream’s really that colour, is it?’

  ‘Anything more?’