*
Peace was a man about whom there hung an air of failure. He had sparse silver-grey hair that usually needed cutting, a face with lines of bitterness in it, teeth that needed the attention of a dentist, a bowed back, a tattered gown, a suit that was shiny and frayed at cuffs and turn-ups, and tabs that as often as not were dirty. Yet his appearance was a calculated deception and he was a highly successful junior with an income many silks envied.
He wore glasses with glass only in the lower half of the frame. As he stood up and studied Kremayne, he began to drum his fingers on the desk before him. ‘You’re an old friend of the co-respondent’s, aren’t you?’ His voice was soft and sleepy, as though he spoke through a mouthful of treacle.
‘We were at school together.’
‘Did you like Rusk?’
‘I … I didn’t hate him.’
‘Even though he was a success and you weren’t?’
‘It’s a long time ago.’
‘I suppose you’d describe him as a bit of a prig in those days?’
Kremayne, for the first time since the start of the hearing, looked across at Rusk who was seated next to Anne Kremayne. ‘He had precious little sympathy for me.’
‘When you next met him at Frithton Look I suppose there was a moment or two when you felt a rather natural sense of satisfaction?’
‘There was.’
‘Did you explain this satisfaction to your wife?’
‘I told her the facts.’
‘And you crowed at the expense of Rusk?’
‘He’d crowed over me often enough and long enough at school.’
‘I suppose we really wouldn’t be too far off the mark if we said that you gained more pleasure from showing Rusk where you’d got to in the world than you did from the actual reunion?’
‘In a way.’
‘Rusk found the buckle from Fiona Johnson’s belt?’
‘Yes.’
‘In a file in your study?’
‘That’s where he said he found it.’
‘I believe you personally asked him to search the study so that your papers shouldn’t be disturbed or read by anybody you didn’t know?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not going to dispute that the buckle he claimed to have found was a fake, are you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘It must have been obvious from the beginning that this buckle was important? Had it been proved to be genuine, it would probably have resulted in your being convicted of the rape of Fiona Johnson?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But when it was shown to be faked, it pointed directly at Rusk as the faker and therefore made it practically certain the jury would believe he was lying when he claimed he’d met you as you returned in your car at two fifty-seven on the morning Fiona Johnson was raped?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell, me Kremayne, is that why some time later that day you bought a buckle similar to the missing one and inscribed the initials in the right place on the back of it and then put it in the file for Rusk to find, knowing that you would be able to make certain it would be proved a fake?’
CHAPTER 18
Kremayne did nothing for a moment, then he laughed. ‘I’d be mad to do such a thing,’ he shouted.
‘The man who raped Brenda Ellery and Fiona Johnson is mad … and clever,’ replied Peace softly. ‘You knew Rusk had caught you as you returned at two fifty-seven in the morning after having raped Fiona Johnson. When he questioned you, you refused to answer but went into the house. Once inside, you must have thought hard and fast. What you’d done, you’d done through a compulsion far greater than reason: but, whatever had caused it, now that your brain was cleared one thing was certain and that was that you didn’t want to be caught for your crime. You knew your wife couldn’t go into the witness-box to give evidence against you and that without her, there probably wouldn’t be sufficient evidence to charge you with the rape and murder of Fiona Johnson … if only Rusk hadn’t found you as you returned in your car in the early morning. But because he had, you were in trouble. If you were to escape, you had to do something that would discredit Rusk and result in his evidence’s being disbelieved. A tall order, until you had a flash of inspiration. You knew two facts that were vital to your suddenly devised plan. You had brought back with you the girl’s buckle which the police were sooner or later bound to discover was missing and would therefore search for, but it must take them time to find out it was missing — the girl’s body had to be discovered and then someone had to notice the buckle was not on the belt. This period of time was your trump card. It meant you could go out and buy a similar buckle — it was obviously a cheap mass-produced one and very easily obtained — and then mark it as the real one was marked and plant it on yourself with the result that the vital piece of evidence which incriminated you would be false.
‘When the police came to search the house, you asked Rusk as a favour to go through your study — that made certain he would find the buckle. He did so, and you were charged with the murder of Fiona Johnson … and the ace up your sleeve was the knowledge that when the buckle was proved to be false, human nature was such that all of Rusk’s evidence would be disbelieved by the jury and they would imagine his reported meeting with you in the early morning to be a lie. Of course, you had to provide a reason for his planting the buckle on you, but that wasn’t very difficult — you’d claim he was committing adultery with your wife. It all worked exactly as planned. You were tried and found not guilty.’
Kremayne was sweating. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and about his neck. ‘That’s bloody ridiculous.’
‘The witness will use more self-control,’ said the judge dispassionately.
Kremayne waved his hands in the air. ‘Rusk planted the buckle.’
‘You knew how the genuine buckle was marked, didn’t you?’
‘So what? That doesn’t mean I planted the fake one.’
‘Will you tell the court how you knew what it was like?’
Kremayne struggled to adjust his mind to meet the challenge of the question. ‘How?’
‘Only the police, Fiona Johnson’s parents, Robert Haze … and the murderer … knew.’
‘I’m talking about now. I didn’t know then. I tell you, I didn’t know then.’
Peace sat down.
*
Kremayne’s witnesses gave their evidence. There was little cross-examination except to show that no one had actually seen the co-respondent behave with impropriety towards the respondent. At the very most, the petitioner’s case, without his own evidence, was that on one or two occasions Rusk had the opportunity to commit adultery.
*
Anne Kremayne was in the witness-box. It was afternoon and sun-light was coming in through one of the narrow windows.
She was a lonely figure. She wore a grey suit and a beautifully hand-embroidered blouse. Her expression was a mixture of fear and embarrassment. She frequently looked round the courtroom as if for a way of escape from the sordid questioning that so disgusted her — but wherever she looked, her gaze never rested on her husband.
Barran placed his clenched fists on the desk and, with straight arms, leaned forward on to them. ‘Have you ever committed adultery with the co-respondent?’
‘Never.’
‘Have you ever permitted him to pet you?’
‘No.’
‘Has he ever kissed you?’
‘No.’
‘Your husband has testified that he saw Rusk kiss you in the garden and that while he did so he cupped your breast?’
‘I’d never allow him to do such a thing.’ Her voice shook slightly.
‘When you first met Rusk, were you having regular sexual intercourse with your husband?’
‘No.’
‘Then you did not, as he alleges, cease to have sexual intercourse with him because of your meeting Rusk?’
‘It was at least a year before.’
‘At whos
e instance had this cessation taken place?’
‘My husband’s.’
‘What were your feelings when you first realised that your husband was under suspicion of having caused Brenda Ellery’s death?’
‘I was shocked.’
‘Did you believe the suspicion could possibly be true?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘No matter how much the evidence seemed to point against him?’
‘Because I believed him quite incapable of the crime I refused to take any notice of the evidence.’
‘What were your feelings when, later on, he was charged with the murder of Fiona Johnson?’
‘I was furious and helpless.’
‘Did you believe he could be guilty?’
‘No.’
‘Were you present at the trial?’
‘No.’
‘You probably read about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you not begin to wonder if he might not be guilty?’
‘I refused to ask myself the question.’
‘Not even when you knew he was accusing you of having committed adultery with Detective-Sergeant Rusk?’
She gripped the edge of the witness-box with her gloved hands. ‘He telephoned me after the trial and said he’d been found not guilty and that Mr Rusk had planted the evidence against him. He also told me he’d had to use unusual methods to get off. He didn’t come home that night and it wasn’t until I read the papers that I knew he’d claimed I’d committed adultery with Mr Rusk.’
Barran’s voice was very quiet. ‘What were your feelings when you discovered he had testified you’d committed adultery?’
‘I felt sick. Then I pulled myself together and told myself that, as he wasn’t guilty, he was justified in doing or saying anything to get free, and my reputation wasn’t worth much against his freedom.’
‘Suppose your positions had been reversed, would you have made such an allegation?’
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘Yet you thought he’d done the right thing?’
‘He had to go free.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Later, I received legal notice that he was going to divorce me.’
‘What effect did that have on you?’
‘I was terribly shocked. It meant he really believed I’d committed adultery, and if he could believe that, he must be mad … And if he was mad he might have committed the crime for which he had been tried. I stopped mentally blocking and remembered all the facts I knew but had deliberately never considered and pushed straight into mental cold-storage.’
‘May we consider what it was you remembered? … In the past few months, did your husband often go out at night time?’
‘He’d very frequently drive off, telling me he was going to look round the farm.’
‘Were you ever given reason to disbelieve this explanation?’
‘One night he telephoned very late and said the car had run out of petrol and the local garage was shut and no one would answer him, so would I bring out the spare can of petrol in the Land Rover.’
‘Where was his car?’
‘Great Chart.’
‘Did he ever explain why he was there and not on his farm?’
‘He said he’d decided to have a drive because his mind was going round in circles and he wanted to clear it.’
‘Did you believe this story?’
‘Yes.’
‘So when he went out on other nights, you believed he was looking round the farm?’
‘I made myself believe it.’
‘And you had no doubts?’
She shook her head. ‘If it seemed I was going to have them, I stopped myself — I refused to think he might be with another woman.’
‘Did you at any time ever lose any kitchen equipment?’
‘Yes. We had a very old ice-pick with a slightly bent tip. We used it for number of jobs. One day I wanted it and searched for it but couldn’t find it anywhere.’
‘Have you any idea when you first missed it?’
‘It was a day or two before Brenda Ellery was murdered.’
‘Did you mention it to your husband?’
‘I asked him if he knew where it had got to and he said he didn’t.’
‘How long before you missed it would you say you last used it?’
‘The week before.’
‘Will you try and recall the night on which Brenda Ellery was raped. Have you any idea at what time you went to bed?’
‘About ten.’
‘What happened?’
‘We locked up and went upstairs. At the head of the stairs we separated after saying good night. I went along the corridor to my room, my husband went into his bedroom which is by the head of the stairs.’
‘Did you see him enter his room?’
‘No.’
‘So when you last saw him, he was still outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you leave your bedroom during the night?’
‘No.’
‘Were you ever asked what had happened that night?’
‘The police asked me to confirm my husband’s alibi. Even though, in fact, I couldn’t, I did because I wasn’t prepared for a second to believe he could have had anything to do with the murder. If he was in rouble, it was up to me to help him out of it.’
‘Then it was your idea to confirm your husband’s alibi?’
‘He asked me if I’d do it and so save his being pestered by the police. I agreed. Later I learned that he hadn’t been in his room throughout the night.’
‘Exactly how did you learn this?’
‘The previous afternoon I’d been shopping in Ashford and during that time I’d left the Rover in my usual garage for service. When I’d finished, I collected the car and drove it home. My husband had been using the Land Rover about the farm and he didn’t drive the Rover before I went to bed. In the morning, I had to visit a friend of mine in hospital and I left the house before Jonathan did. I backed the Rover out of the garage and as I did so, I noticed it was making a terrible noise. I stopped the car and went round to the back and found the exhaust pipe trailing on the ground. I was in a hurry so I picked up some wire and managed temporarily to fix the pipe into place and drove off. After I’d been to the hospital I went on to the garage, where I created a fuss because they hadn’t noticed the faulty exhaust pipe the day before. They examined the pipe and discovered that the bottom half of the rear support bracket was broken and most of it was missing. They swore it must have happened since I’d taken over the car the previous night and that from the look of the metal it had received a very heavy knock. I knew I hadn’t done it.’
‘Did you take steps to try and find out what had happened?’
‘I asked my husband what he knew about it and he said he’d suddenly worried about a cow that was calving — his head cow-man was on holiday and the chap looking after the cow wasn’t all that expert — and he’d left the house almost immediately after saying good night to me. He’d only been away half an hour, since the cow had calved quite all right, but on the way back he’d hit a rock that was lying in the middle of the road and that must have been when the exhaust bracket burst. He begged me not to mention this drive to the police, because although it was all completely above board it might make them suspicious. I promised to forget it.’
‘Do you know of your own account that your husband returned within the half hour?’
‘I neither heard him leave nor return.’
‘What happened then?’
‘The next morning — the night after he’d been out in the car — I went into his bedroom to see if it needed cleaning. I found the trousers of his Harris tweed suit — the one he uses for really dirty jobs — lying about. The knees of the trousers were so filthy and muddy I took the trousers away and washed them. I noticed that the material at the knee was wearing out and that a number of strands were breaking loose.’
‘Where did you wash them?’
‘They were so bad I did them in the bath of my bathroom.’
‘I’d like to move on in time, Mrs Kremayne …’
*
Steine, when he decided a certain course was necessary, never worried about the feelings of a witness who would be affected by such course. He never needlessly antagonised, but if there were a wounding and a less wounding way of putting the same question he would choose the former if it promised to be the more effective for his purpose.
When he cross-examined Anne Kremayne, his tone of voice was both hard and contemptuous and his lean face bore signs of a sarcastic dislike. ‘Mrs Kremayne, do you deny that after the very briefest of acquaintances with the co-respondent, you entertained him in your house when your husband was not present?’
‘I have done so.’
‘And on one occasion he was with you from nine-thirty in the evening until around midnight?’
She had mentally braced herself to answer the degrading questions that must come, but her defences were not all that solid. Her lower lip was quivering again. ‘Yes.’
‘Would you say that’s a wise move on the part of a woman who wishes to keep her reputation?’
‘At the time, the question didn’t occur to me.’
‘Because you thought no one would uncover the visit?’
‘I met Mr Rusk in the road outside our house and I asked him in for just one reason: to hear the answer to a question.’
‘Which was?’
‘Why my husband was being suspected of the murder of Brenda Ellery.’
‘But you’ve been declaring your absolute belief in his innocence. Surely such a question wouldn’t even have occurred to you?’
‘Of course it did. I was worried stiff.’
‘Even when you believed him innocent?’ Steine raised one of his rakish eyebrows. He rested his hands on his hips. ‘On this occasion, did Rusk give you an answer to this question?’
‘Yes.’
‘How soon would he have done that after you both went into the house?’
‘Quite soon.’
‘Did you not then terminate the meeting?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I asked him if he’d like a scratch meal.’
Exhibit No. Thirteen Page 16
