Killing Satisfaction

by Jason De'Ath

  “I don’t know: I think he was afraid to look at him... But the woman in the shop would have.” Vera declared with a dim glint of hope in her eyes.

  “My Lord, the police have not been able to trace the lady serving in the chip shop, though inquires continue.” explained Carmichael.

  “I see. I am grateful for your illumination on that matter, Mr Carmichael.” noted Ravensdale.

  “Please continue, Vera.” Carmichael gave Vera an encouraging smile.

  “Well, he got back in the car – with Gregg... Then he sat there eating chips for a while. Then he said to head for Kew

  Gardens.”

  “He was clearly familiar with that part of London, would you say?”

  “Yes, otherwise he couldn’t of known about the chip shop. I didn’t really know where we were, and I know London quite well.”

  “My Lordship, I would like to draw attention to Exhibit 19: a statement given by Richard Paris – a close associate of the defendant... You will note that on page three, about half way down, he mentions that Arthur Jameson once had a girlfriend who lived in Brentford.” Carmichael instructed the court usher to hand the exhibit to the judge, who then had it passed onto the jury.

  Once the jury had digested this, Norcroft made his objection: “My Lordship, the accused has had numerous girlfriends from various parts of London: I fail to see the significance.”

  “I think we’ll let the jury decide that. Sit down Mr Norcroft.” barked Ravensdale.

  “As my Lordship pleases.” snivelled Norcroft.

  Carmichael recommenced Vera’s account: “After you passed the botanic gardens, what was the gunman’s next action?”

  “He made us pull over into a lay-by outside some shops... He spotted a cigarette machine and sent me to get some. I thought about running, again, but couldn’t bring myself to do it – I didn’t want to leave Gregg on his own.”

  “Of course not.” reassured Carmichael, “What type of cigarettes did you get?”

  “Kensitas: that was all there was.”

  “And what happened when the gunman smoked one of these Kensitas cigarettes?”

  “He, er, he choked. I don’t think he was a real smoker.”

  “My Lordship, Kensitas cigarettes are a high tar variety – rather strong. I would suggest only hardened smokers can cope with such a cigarette...”

  “We are concluding that the gunman was not a regular smoker – is that the assertion, Mr Carmichael?”

  “Yes, my Lord: you are very perceptive.”

  Norcroft rose to his feet with exasperation: “My Lord, surely such a subjective matter cannot be regarded as evidence?”

  “I presume you have a reason for highlighting this particular detail, Mr Carmichael?” asked Ravensdale.

  “Yes, my Lord. The accused is known to be a non-smoker, or casual smoker. That can be found in several statements by friends and family of the accused.” countered Carmichael.

  “Hmmm, I’ll allow this; though the jury should regard it with caution.” directed Ravensdale.

  Norcroft took a deep breath and restrained himself; meanwhile, Carmichael mentally chalked-up an imaginary point to himself, before prompting Vera to continue.

  “I think he chucked the cigarettes out of the window – a car behind flashed its’ lights... A little bit after that he said to mind out for some road works, which we couldn’t see at that point. They were there, though – just before we passed

  Richmond train station.”

  “The court should note that the gunman was evidently familiar with the Richmond area.” started Carmichael, poised to score another point, “Returning to Exhibit 19: the lengthy statement made by Richard Paris...”

  Jameson winced at the revelation that his former friend had apparently colluded with the police to make a voluminous statement, which incriminated him at every turn; he momentarily sunk his head into his hands in dismay.

  “It catalogues all of the defendant’s favourite places where he regularly conducted his housebreaking activities. The court should note that Richmond is close to the top of this list.” cited Carmichael with an air of accomplishment. Norcroft could not do anything to dispute Jameson’s criminal behaviour, as the nature of his criminality was to be used as an element of his defence.

  “This is not an area he would otherwise have reason to frequent.” added Carmichael, just to add salt to the wound.

  “Objection. I do not believe my learned friend is imbued with the power to make such an assertion.” complained Norcroft, determined to not to let Carmichael have it all his own way.

  “Sustained. You will confine yourself to the facts, Mr Carmichael.”

  “Of course, my Lordship.” conceded the contented prosecutor. “Where did the gunman take you next, Miss Fable?” “We crossed the river into Petersham, I think it is. As we passed a sort of park area...” “Petersham Common.” assisted Carmichael.

  “Yes... Well, he forced Gregg to pull onto the grass verge. Then we just sat there – I don’t know what he was doing... After about five minutes, I’d guess, he told Gregg to carry on. A bit further on, we passed Richmond golf course; then he told Gregg to make a U-turn and park in a lay-by alongside the golf course... I thought: he’s going to kill us now, but he just wanted to go to the toilet. He took Gregg with him; then, when they came back, he let me go too – on my own. I should have made a run for it, but he said he’d kill Gregg if I didn’t come ba...” Vera began to cry, which sent a shudder up Arthur’s spine and made Norcroft cringe, painfully aware that this would serve to heighten the jury’s sympathy for Vera and simultaneously induce increased antipathy toward his client. Conversely, for Carmichael this was something of a barbaric gift. The Honourable Justice Ravensdale quickly intervened by calling a short adjournment, allowing Vera to recompose herself.

  Following a twenty minute break, during which Vera’s parents were allowed to comfort her, the trial resumed: Vera clenching her hands, determined to see her evidence through without a further breakdown; Arthur clenching his hands in hope of divine intervention, or in fact any form of supernatural assistance.

  “Miss Fable, please continue your account from Richmond golf course.” requested Carmichael.

  “...We continued south, following the river through Kingston, before joining the A3... We were getting a little low on petrol, so he made us stop at Esher and fill-up... That was the long part of the journey, all the way down the A3 to Guildford.

  He was pretty quiet during that – we thought he’d gone to sleep a few times, but he always seemed to wake up when we came to a roundabout; I think he was checking that we kept on the A3.”

  “You were in no doubt that he knew exactly where he was going at this stage?” prompted Carmichael, intent on proving that this had been the gunman’s plan.

  “Yes...Well, we thought we were going to Guildford, but he told us to by-pass that and stick to the A3. At the Milford roundabout he told Gregg to take a B-road and we ended-up in a small village.” “That would be Felstave, my Lordship.” advised Carmichael.

  “Yes – so, I believe.” Vera concurred; “It was very dark, but he seemed to know where he was going. He told Gregg to turn down a dirt track. That road ended in a wood.”

  “Marsholm Wood, my Lordship.” clarified Carmichael. “Before we go on, I would like to bring to the courts’ attention two material facts relating to the accused: if my Lordship will allow, I would like to refer to statements made by Patricia and Earnest Jameson, the parents of the accused...”

  Arthur recoiled at hearing this, while his parents looked at one another, both mystified and horrified that something they had said was to be used as evidence against their son.

  Carmichael continued: “I refer to exhibits 11 and 12. In this testimony it states that Arthur Jameson stayed with an aunt in Bramley, Surrey, in August 1962 for a month. Bramley is about ten miles from Felstave. Jameson also worked in Guildford during this time, which is also about ten miles from Felstave. I believe this demonstrat
es that Jameson was familiar with that area and could have visited Felstave and Marsholm Wood.”

  “Objection. My Lordship, there is no evidence that my client ever visited Felstave.” complained Norcroft bristling slightly.

  “Sustained. The jury will ignore that inference... Stick to the facts, Mr Carmichael.” ordered Ravensdale.

  “Thank you my Lordship.” acknowledged Norcroft with genuine appreciation.

  “I bow to your direction my Lord.” grovelled Carmichael, “Also, notably given in Patricia Jameson’s statement is an affirmation that Arthur Jameson rarely swore; this is also corroborated by Denise Deneo’s statement, exhibit 60, and also Carol Paris’ statement, exhibit 66... Miss Fable, during the entire four and a half hours or so of your terrible ordeal, did the gunman use any foul or abusive language?”

  “Hardly at all; only two or three times, I would say.” recalled Vera, “I found that surprising, considering how rough he was.”

  “In what way was he rough, Miss Fable?” enquired the judge.

  “Well, working class. A criminal.”

  Norcroft was tempted to ask if she was implying that all working class people were criminals, but as his client was undeniably criminal, there seemed little point.

  “Thank you, Miss Fable... I think it also worth pointing out a particular phrase the gunman used: Vera, can you recall the term he used to describe Debbie Reynolds – a well-known Hollywood actress, and rather attractive, I believe.” Carmichael added for the judge’s benefit.

  “Yes, he called her a ‘tasty tart’.”

  “A ‘tasty tart’. Hardly a flattering expression and one that Carol Paris, an associate of the accused, recalls him using in her statement, in reference to another actress, Ursula Andress.”

  Norcroft felt compelled to interject at this point: “My Lordship, such an expression can hardly be considered unique to my client. I imagine many young men use such terminology.”

  “If you say so, Mr Norcroft. I think it is a valid point.” contended the old judge.

  Norcroft sighed; bowing, he conceded very unconvincingly: “As my Lordship pleases.” Following this, Carmichael deliberately paused, so as to add a little more drama to the evidence to come: “Now, Vera, I know this is very painful for you, but you must tell the court exactly what happened when the car stopped in the wood.”

  “Yes... Well, he told Gregg to turn the engine off, and the lights – it was pitch-black. Then he said he was tired and needed to sleep – he used the word ‘kip’... So, he said he needed to tie us up. He already knew there was rope in the boot, but I suppose he was looking for something else, so he could tie both of us up... That’s when he asked me to pass my shopping bag back...”

  “Take your time, Miss Fable. Tell the court exactly what happened.” said Ravensdale encouragingly.

  “Well... Gregg just tried to guide the bag back to...him. We were afraid to look back at him because he’d warned us not to... I don’t know...I don’t know why...” Vera gulped in air and braced herself, “He just fired – twice. Gregg didn’t stand a chance... I think he died instantly.” Vera sniffed and struggled to hold back the tears.

  “No rush, Vera. I know the next part is very difficult: we don’t need to hear the precise details, but you must tell the court clearly what happened.” Carmichael gently asserted. A tense hush descended over the room in anticipation of the most harrowing section of Vera’s evidence. For the first time, Vera dared to look towards the dock and make eye contact with Jameson, who visibly flinched as though a knife had been plunged between his ribs, tearing into his heart.

  “We argued briefly. I think I called him ‘a bastard’ for killing Gregg.”

  “Understandable, I think.” Carmichael concurred; the judge nodded in agreement.

  “He told me to shut up, so he could ‘fink’.” she explained with venom, “I told him he’d killed Gregg; he seemed to accept that after a while, then he went quiet; but I could feel him leering at me.” “What did you imagine was going to happen?” probed Carmichael.

  “I don’t know... I suppose I thought he would have to kill me, too. I was sure he liked me, so I thought if I keep him sweet, maybe I can talk my way out.”

  “I think it is worth noting that Miss Fable was sitting in a car with a murderer in a dark wood in the middle of nowhere. I think anyone in that position would be in fear of their life.” Carmichael somewhat unnecessarily expounded.

  “I didn’t think he would let me live – I’d seen his face.” Vera suddenly revealed; this is what Carmichael had been waiting for, “I turned around to speak to him. It was dark, but I could see him clearly... He said I should get in the back with him, as it would be ‘more cosy’. I didn’t feel I had a choice, so I did what he said... When I got in the back...he told me to snuggle up to him; then he asked me to kiss him... I didn’t want to; I felt sick; I thought he was despicable and disgusting...” Vera paused.

  “Please continue, Vera: it is very important that the court hear what happened.” said Carmichael in a gently persuasive tone.

  “He... He started to undress me. I didn’t try to stop him: I was frozen with fear. I just let him do it.” “Do what?” pressed Carmichael.

  “Rape me.” she stated coldly.

  “Sexual intercourse took place?” asked Ravensdale, to ensure absolute clarity.

  “Yes. Against my will, my Lord.”

  “At this time – please forgive me, Vera – but you must have been face to face with this man?” Carmichael was leading up to the big moment.

  “Yes. It was dark, but he was inches away. I’ll never forget those piercing eyes.”

  “Miss Fable, this is of utmost importance: would you recognise this man if you saw him again?” “Yes. Yes, I will never forget his face.” she snarled.

  “And, Miss Fable, can you see that man in court today.” Carmichael reached the finale.

  “Yes. Yes it’s the man in the dock – Arthur Jameson.” she affirmed with complete confidence as she pointed to him.

  At that instant, Arthur’s heart turned to ice. Carmichael need not have feared an angry response, because Arthur was deeply hurt by the accusation and deeply troubled by it.

  “The court will record that the witness identified Arthur Jameson as the man who attacked Mr Mason and herself on the 31st July last year.” ordered Ravensdale, then added: “The court will adjourn for lunch. Reconvene at one o’clock.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  (12 January 1966)

  Arthur sat in his cell (in the block adjacent to the courthouse), miserably eating his bowl of spaghetti hoops and chomping on a bread roll. He was just about to take a slurp of tea, when the prison warder opened the cell door.

  “Arfur, your brief’s ‘ere to see y’u. Leave your lunch like a good boy and come wiv me.” the officer instructed. He then led Arthur down to the interview room where Robeson and Norcroft were impatiently waiting for him. “Are you okay, Arthur?” enquired Robeson.

  “Yeah, bit upset, but...”

  “I’m afraid his Honourable Justice rather stole my thunder, adjourning for lunch like that. I was about to play that ace I spoke of previously.” explained Norcroft, “You see, I intend to discredit Miss Fable’s identification.” Jameson’s interest was immediately piqued. “In respect to this, I am proposing to conduct an experiment in court, Judge Ravensdale permitting, and I require your agreement, Arthur. I want to trump my ace, as it were...” “I strongly advise against this.” interrupted Robeson.

  “Arthur, your solicitor does have your best interests at heart, but I have no interest in this case other than proving your innocence and winning. I get minimal remuneration, and to be honest, I would do it gratis, because I believe I can win this case, and I will not deny that is very much in my interest. Do you have faith in me, Arthur?” asked Norcroft manipulatively; Robeson sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “I do sir. I know y’ur me best chance. What do y’u need from me?”

  Norcroft had a self-con
gratulatory smile beaming from his face: “Let me explain, Arthur: the biggest problem we have is Vera Fable’s identification of you as the killer; if we are to win this, we need to discredit that. This is an audacious strategy...”

  Robeson was shaking his head: “This is very dangerous, Arthur; it could easily backfire.”

  “It does have its’ risks, I’ll admit, but I honestly don’t think it will harm your case.” insisted Norcroft.

  “If you say so, Mr Norcroft, I’m prepared t’go along wiv it.” agreed Arthur somewhat innocently.

  “You have to explain this to him – properly.” asserted Robeson, who was deeply concerned about Norcroft’s unprecedented tactic.

  The court session resumed at one o’clock on the dot. Carmichael hadn’t quite finished teasing out Vera’s evidence: it was now time to show the jury just what a depraved and evil man they were dealing with.

  “Vera, can you please tell the court what happened after the sexual assault.”

  “He told me to get dressed and then he got out of the car... When I got out, he was just staring at Gregg’s body slumped in the front of the car... He said he didn’t want to get blood on his clothes, so I had to pull Gregg out of the car – it took all my strength... Then he was complaining about the blood on the seat; he needed something to mop it up...so he made me take my top off and told me to use that. There was a blanket in the boot which he made me cover the seat with... Then he started asking about how the car worked, which I thought was odd, because at the beginning he was going to drive himself, so... Well, it was like he didn’t know how a car worked. After that we were both standing next to the car and he was leering down at me... I thought, this is it, he’s going to kill me now... So...so...I kneed him in the crotch as hard as I could...and ran into the wood; I had to kick off my heels, which meant I had bare feet, but I couldn’t run with those shoes on, so had no choice... It was pitch-black; I couldn’t see my hand in front of me... I kept falling over and hurting myself, but I kept on going... Then I heard him start chasing me. I don’t think he really knew where I was; then he started shooting. I felt one shot fly past my face, so ran to the side and he got me in the thigh – the pain was excruciating: I just fell over on to my back.” The court was absolutely silent at this point, everyone’s attention intensely focused upon Vera’s words, “I could hear him coming. I tried to stay silent, but the pain was terrible; I think he heard me groan... Anyway, he found me. He said: ‘I was going to let you live, but now I can’t.’, or something like that. I didn’t understand why he had to kill me now and not before; I think I hurt him and he didn’t like it. Then he fired...”