Evidence of the Accused

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘What shoes were you wearing?’

  ‘Rubber boots, my Lord.’

  ‘Where did you put your gun when you entered the house from the woods?’

  ‘I laid it down on the path outside.’

  ‘How did your dog, Apples, succeed in entering the house?’

  ‘I’d not quite shut the door at the end of the hall.’

  ‘Why did your second dog not follow?’

  ‘Pears is completely obedient and I’d ordered her to stop outside. Apples is obedient unless and until she thinks she might get away with not being so.’

  The judge rubbed his chin with his right hand. His fingers were long and thin and rather cruel-looking. ‘Mr Union, do you wish to cross-examine?’

  ‘No, my Lord.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Gorton spoke. ‘My Lord, that is the case for the prosecution.’ His voice expressed the sense of perplexity he felt and also his appreciation of the irony in the statement.

  The court waited to see if the defence would claim there was no case to answer.

  Union spoke at some length with his solicitor — an elderly man whose complexion made him look a likely candidate for coronary thrombosis — then had a few words with his junior. Finally, he stood upright and his stomach settled down to its normal ovoid shape. He took off his glasses, rubbed his nose, replaced them. ‘My Lord, I shall be calling no evidence other than that of the accused.’

  ‘Very well.’

  I wondered whether Union had originally intended to call evidence but because of what had happened had changed his mind. Now, he would be left with the last word to the jury.

  ‘Mr Stuart Tetley.’

  We watched Stuart leave the dock and walk round the back of the benches in which we sat to the witness-box which he stepped into. The policeman who had accompanied him stood in front of the door into the box.

  The preliminary questions were soon over. ‘Mr Tetley,’ said Union slowly, choosing his words carefully, ‘will you please describe very carefully what happened on the Saturday?’

  ‘I arrived at Settle Court and we had cocktails, then luncheon. After luncheon, Mark and I went out shooting with two of the dogs. He stood at the join of the two arms of the wood and I beat the southerly one down to him. When I reached him I asked him why he hadn’t done any shooting. He replied that nothing had come over him.’

  ‘Were you surprised by this?’

  ‘I was. I knew I’d sent several birds forward.’

  ‘Was anything more said?’

  ‘Very little and I can’t remember what it was. I became the standing gun and Mark walked along the outside of the wood until he reached the far end when he and Apples began beating it.’

  ‘Did you have good sport this time?’

  ‘I’d say, yes, considering it’s entirely unkeepered.’

  ‘What happened when you’d finished shooting?’

  ‘We returned to the house. When we were level with the hall we saw it was full of people and Mark rushed in.’

  Union addressed the judge. ‘Would you prefer my learned friend to cross-examine on certain details, my Lord, rather than that I should deal with them in my examination-inchief?’

  ‘I think that course would be the better one.’

  Union sat down.

  Gorton rose, drank some water before he put the first question. ‘During the course of the investigations into this case you made a statement to Detective-Superintendent Pope regarding the cause of death of the deceased?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘In that statement you claimed it was you who caused the death of Lindy Cheesman.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Yet now you hear Mark Cheesman say on oath that it was he who caused her death?’

  ‘Yes.’ Stuart reached up and straightened the knot of his tie. ‘Perhaps I may explain?’

  ‘The court, Mr Tetley, is awaiting your explanation,’ replied Gorton dryly.

  ‘I knew Lindy very well.’

  The judge interrupted. ‘Is that a euphemism for saying you were her lover?’

  ‘No, my Lord … The relationship between us was one that’s going to take some explaining. I don’t want to sound boastful because it wasn’t like that but although I was very fond of Lindy, and no more, she said she’d fallen for me. At first I treated it as a joke because we were good enough friends to joke about anything. I stopped when I realised she meant what she said. I told her not to be ridiculous, that she was temporarily bored because Mark was out of the house for so long … She swore she loved me and wanted me to have an affair with her. I wasn’t any angel and she was very lovely but I tried my damndest not to let either of them down and again and again I reasoned with her … That was the situation when we found Lindy dead that Saturday. Naturally I at first thought it had been a ghastly accident but pretty soon, from the way the police went about things, it became clear Lindy hadn’t just inadvertently fallen through the banisters. The superintendent kept at it and it was clear he was gunning for either Mark or me. Since I knew it was not I who had killed Lindy, I also knew it must be Mark. At this stage of the proceedings I did a damn’ silly thing.’

  Stuart had turned his head until he was looking directly at the jury. He was visibly challenging them to believe he could honourably have pursued any course of conduct other than the one he did. ‘I felt morally responsible for Lindy’s death because I could judge why Mark had gone back to the house in the afternoon. He’d seen the way Lindy spoke to me earlier on. If she and I hadn’t acted as we had, she’d still be alive and Mark would not be in danger of being charged with her murder. I decided to try to take some of the blame on to myself as a sort of reparation and penitence and to stop the police worrying Mark so that they were steered away from the truth. That’s why I confessed.

  ‘I’d overlooked the most obvious thing of all — that I could be charged with the crime I hadn’t committed and be in peril of being found guilty. Because I was innocent, I’d believed that too impossible to consider.’

  ‘Suppose,’ said Gorton, ‘Mark Cheesman had not given the evidence he has and you had been left to fight this case on your own?’

  ‘I’m not a hero. I’ve been getting more and more panicky. The only thing that’s kept me sane has been my absolute trust in the fact that when it became vital for Mark to speak up, he would.’

  ‘When you made your quixotic — foolhardy-confession to the police, had you realised you would be taken into custody?’

  ‘I … I can only answer, no. It sounds ridiculous that a lawyer should overlook the fact but I was so concerned with trying to help Mark that … ’

  ‘When Mark Cheesman did not confess at the preliminary hearing — did that not worry you very greatly?’

  ‘I told myself he would speak either before or during the trial. He has done.’

  The judge spoke. ‘Mr Tetley, if your present evidence is true, you have been guilty of a deliberate and monstrous perversion of the truth and of the law.’

  ‘My Lord, warm feelings that stem from warm human relationships can sometimes mean more to the person concerned than the cold sanctity of the law: even to a lawyer.’

  ‘That is an outrageous thing to say.’

  After a pause, Gorton continued his cross-examination.

  *

  I ate lunch at the same restaurant I went to the previous day. The smell and the noise was the same, the people all seemed familiar. What meaning could there be to life when its routine became so rigid even the place of eating became immutably fixed? It was with such questions that I consoled myself for the fact that those who ate so regularly obviously had a regular wage packet.

  The waitress slopped up to the table and asked me what I wanted.

  ‘Mushroom omelette with fried potatoes and green peas.’

  I lit a cigarette. The case had exploded and it was impossible to see through the dust. I wished I could be a little something that could crawl into Pope’s brain and listen to his thoug
hts on “friends”. A thousand to one he could never see the beauty of so staggering a self-sacrifice as Stuart had made: or that though it might legally be indefensible it was morally superb.

  As I stubbed out the cigarette, the waitress returned. She carried four plates to a small serving-table, put them down. She brought one over to me. ‘Boiled ham.’

  ‘Not for me … I ordered mushroom omelette, fried potatoes, and green peas.’

  She looked bewildered, then angry. ‘No one ordered mushroom omelette.’

  ‘I assure you I did.’

  ‘If you say so, but it’s the first time I’ve been told I’ve lost my memory. It’ll have to be a fresh order … take quarter of an hour, or more.’

  I was being blackmailed and there was nothing I could do about it because the court would sit at two sharp. ‘I’ll take the ham in that case.’

  She sniffed loudly, slammed the plate she held down in front of me, left, took the three other plates to a family at the next table. She served them with vegetables, found she had none left for me, disappeared into the kitchen. By the time I received my roast potatoes and water-filled sprouts, the ham was all but cold and the liquor had blobs of fat on it.

  I ate.

  I wondered about Stuart and Lindy, Mark and Lindy, Stuart and Mark. The eternal triangle, it was called. Although it was a frequently repeated pattern, it never proved to be an eternal one.

  I finished the ham, the potatoes, and the water-filled sprouts. What were the jury collectively and separately thinking as they had their meal? Did they ponder on the strange patterns of life, concrete patterns woven by human minds that were invisible and indivisible: or were they much more concerned with the question of how soon they would be discharged of their duties and so able to return home?

  Home reminded me the copy for a future issue of Laws and Lawyers must be dispatched within the next two days. There’d been a mint of trouble with it. Two promised articles had never been sent and in a bout of resentment I’d decided to include one of Bilbow’s short stories: in a calmer moment, I’d agreed with myself to write five thousand words on some of the more surprising developments of the delightfully named case, Carlill v Carbolic Smoke Ball Co. I was quite good on the theory of law: it had been in the practice of it that solicitors failed to see me as the logical successor to Lord Shawcross.

  The waitress came to my table and cleared the dirty plate. ‘Having sweet?’

  ‘What is there?’

  ‘Jam tart, vanilla ice, apple and custard, treacle pudding.’

  ‘Ice-cream, please.’

  She sniffed loudly. Probably wondering whether to deliver jam tart or treacle pudding.

  *

  Gorton made a calm and reasoned speech. He pointed out the facts, possibilities, probabilities. He dealt with Mark’s confession and said that if the jury believed it, there was, of course, only one verdict they could give in the present case.

  Even if they did not wholly believe Mark but, equally, were left in doubt as to Stuart Tetley’s position in the death, then they would bring in a verdict of not guilty.

  Union was more definite. He supposed that every member of the jury was sane, sensible, logical, and would therefore believe the confession of Mark Cheesman. In such circumstances, of course, the verdict could only be not guilty.

  Mr Justice Addair addressed the jury.

  ‘Members of the jury, at the beginning of the case prosecuting counsel explained to you that you had two duties to perform. First, to decide whether a murder had been committed: secondly, whether in your opinion the accused was guilty beyond all reasonable doubt of that murder.

  ‘We may safely say, according to all the evidence and as has been implicitly admitted by the defence since at no time during the trial did they seriously challenge the fact, that the death of Mrs Lindy Cheesman took place in the presence of a second person and that that second person was materially responsible for such death … Does the action of this second person, the physical action he took, amount to murder? If he struggled with her on the landing did he intend or was he indifferent to the fact that as a result of what he was doing she would fall through the banisters to the floor below and so be killed? … I shall return in detail to this point later on but I think it only right to say that you should not immediately concern yourself with such problems. Before you question your minds on such a point you must be certain as to the identity of the second person. Was it the accused: or was it Mark Cheesman? If you believe it to have been Mark Cheesman then you will deliberate no further but will bring in a verdict of not guilty. Your task here is not to decide who killed, or was present at the death of, Mrs Lindy Cheesman. You are here solely to say whether the accused, Stuart Tetley, was responsible for her death.

  ‘Two facts stand out above all others. Stuart Tetley confessed to the police that he was responsible for the death: in this court you have heard Mark Cheesman admit it was he who was on the landing at the time of Lindy Cheesman’s fall and death, that he knew Stuart Tetley could not be guilty as charged, that he did not speak sooner because he believed no innocent man could ever be found guilty whatever the circumstances. Which confession are you to believe? The one made to the police: or the one you have heard in court? That, members of the jury, is a decision which you, and you alone, must make. You will weigh up all the evidence and very carefully consider it. You will ask yourselves whether it seems reasonable that a man would make a false confession knowing it to be false, knowing that as a consequence of it he must be arrested and suffer detention in custody. Would a man in Stuart Tetley’s position risk such happenings? To decide on the answer to that you must believe or disbelieve the reasons he gave this court. He told you of the relationship that existed between himself and Mrs Cheesman and that even though he says there was no adultery he felt bitterly the tremendous injustice he was doing his friend and that he wished to make amends by shielding Mark Cheesman whom he knew must be guilty since he himself was innocent. Would a man of Tetley’s character, and you have had a chance to assess his character, act in such a way? I think one can safely say it needs a person of much courage, much foolhardiness, and one who is ready to show contempt for the accepted order of behaviour. Is that how you would describe the accused?

  ‘If you do not think the accused’s confession was false but that it told the truth, then you have to believe Mark Cheesman, husband of the dead woman, came here and deliberately lied. Why? Is it likely? Would he not be eager that justice be done so that he might feel some redress had been made for his wife’s death? Or can you conceive his coming to court to help his friend and ignoring what that same friend had done to his wife …

  ‘Members of the jury, once you have decided who was the second person on the landing in Settle Court on the Saturday afternoon in question, you will either immediately bring in a verdict of not guilty or will then go on carefully to consider further matters.

  ‘The accused, in his confession to the police, claimed in effect that the death of Mrs Cheesman was accidental. You will remember his words … ’ The judge looked down at his notebook and turned back the pages to the passage he wanted. ‘“I” — that is Stuart Tetley — “entered the house and met her on the landing. I told her what I’d come to say. She became very angry and tried to hit me. I held on to her to prevent her succeeding and somehow we overbalanced and both fell against the banisters very heavily. They gave way. I instinctively let go of Lindy as I struggled to save myself and I managed not to fall over. She wasn’t so lucky.’’ … That is the description of an accident. It could not be murder because there is no malice aforethought, expressed or implied. Now, members of the jury, let each one of you ask himself or herself the question, if you were involved in an accident such as this one, what would you do? Would you say nothing about it and hope that your presence at the time of death would go undiscovered? When the police investigations continued so that it became obvious the case was no longer being treated as one of accident, would you still remain silent? Would
you not imagine, as a reasonable person would, supposing he had not already long since done so, that the time had come to tell the truth? Would you not clearly see that to continue to remain silent is to render less likely any belief in the accident?

  ‘Members of the jury, remember the evidence of Detective-Superintendent Pope regarding the difficulty he and Detective-Sergeant Ventnor had when they tried to break through the already weakened banisters. You heard them say that not until one man pushed the other with all his force … ’

  Mr Justice Addair spoke for a long time in his dry, incisive voice.

  We watched the jury return to court. They had been out just short of two hours. As they entered the jury-box they looked at the dock. That told us what their verdict was.

  Not guilty.

  CHAPTER XII

  There was a touch of spring to the air although it was too early in the year to be anything but false. The sky was almost cloudless and the sun was throwing long shadows. There was no wind. The first of the lambs were dotting the fields, their whiteness being in such sharp contrast to their mothers, they looked like a detergent advertisement. Robert’s geese were out in the field rented by Higgins which meant there would be yet another row. Hares were beginning to go stupid and would occasionally lollop past one so close it seemed they must be half tame. Partridges were whistling to one another. Hedge-sparrows were rushing round looking for feathers.

  I put my typewriter to one side and picked out a cigarette from the pack in front of me. On the sofa, Pears watched and lazily wagged her tail. I’d taken charge of her when they arrested Mark: Stuart had Apples. No doubt Pears was trying to tell me to get up and out and to shoot something for her even if it was only a pigeon. She’d never understand that one half of the world shot — but the other half didn’t. I’d once missed a sitting rabbit at ten yards with both barrels. I could remember how amused Mark had been and how, by the time we reached the house, the story was that in the end the rabbit lay down at full length to make things easy for me.