Murder in the Mine

by Roy Lewis

  ‘Of course.’ Warlock paused, consulted the notes in front of him, and Skene stood very still, his eyes fixed on Warlock, a placid expression on his face as he awaited continuation of the cross-examination.

  ‘Now tell me,’ Warlock continued, ‘how long was it since you last saw Jack Scales?’

  ‘Before he brought Mrs Stark to me? Oh, about a year, maybe more.’

  ‘Were you surprised to see him?’

  ‘Yes. But I soon realised he really wanted to go back to sea and knew he could get a berth out of Cardiff or Barry. And the other thing was that he wanted to put Mrs Stark in touch with me.’

  ‘What were his motives in that?’

  ‘He wanted to get rid of her.’

  As Warlock’s head came up Skene permitted himself the shadow of a smile. He brushed back an errant strand of his thinning brown hair and said, ‘I mean, of course, that he no longer wanted her company.’

  ‘And you were to find her husband for her?’

  ‘That was the general idea.’

  Warlock nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘You have testified that the task was not an easy one. You stated that Martin Evans had come south, changed his name from Stark to Evans, changed his profession from solicitor to estate agent, buried himself in an area where he could conceivably hope to remain undiscovered for the rest of his life. But you discovered him . . .by chance.’

  ‘I suppose all these things are a matter of luck,’ Skene said seriously. ‘I had just about reached the end of my enquiries, with no further lines of investigation open to me, when this solicitor I came across in the Cardiff Arms, in Treorchy—’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’ve told us. What about afterwards? Having been told that Martin Evans was the man you sought, did you go to Pentre to verify the fact?’

  ‘No’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Mrs Stark carne to see me next day. I gave her the information, she seemed to accept it, and she could not have paid me for a further day’s work anyway. So we called it quits.’

  ‘And you took no further part in the enquiry?’

  Skene shook his head.

  ‘None.’

  ‘You did not go to the Rhondda on June 4th, or June 5th, or June 6th, or at any time that week to pursue the enquiries relating to Martin Evans?’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘And that was the last time you saw Mrs Stark, in Cardiff that day?’

  ‘It was.’

  Warlock scratched his lean cheek. He stared hard at Skene but the enquiry agent met his glance unwaveringly.

  ‘I put it to you that you did seek out Martin Evans in the Rhondda.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I put it to you that you were in the Rhondda on June 5th.’

  Skene opened his mouth, hesitated, but before he could answer Warlock continued, ‘I put it to you that you were in Pentre on June 5th, that you spoke to Mrs Stark during the late afternoon outside Ystrad Rhondda station, that you were still making enquiries relating to Evans on that day.’

  ‘No.’ Skene paused after the incisive rebuttal of Warlock’s claim. He appeared to be concentrating hard, and after a moment he took a pocketbook out of his jacket and consulted it. Coolly, he said, ‘Sorry, may I backtrack? You are right in your information that I was in the Rhondda on June 5th. I was indeed there, but it was on another matter. I did not see Mrs Stark, and I was not pursuing the assignment she had given me. It was finished. I was engaged on other business.’

  ‘Your memory is reliable?’

  ‘My notes are.’

  ‘Do you have notes concerning your conduct in Cyprus in 1956?’

  The question confused Skene momentarily. It was out of context for him, he was geared to the Stark enquiry and the mention of years gone shook him. Crow noted the speed of his recovery, however, and the way in which his eyes glittered as he replied, ‘No, I do not.’

  ‘But you did testify,’ Warlock said silkily, ‘that you had served in Cyprus. Is there anything more you wish to add about that service record?’

  The silence that followed the question grew longer as Skene considered the matter. Warlock made no attempt to badger him as he thought the matter over; it was obvious to Crow that the longer the silence the better it suited Warlock and the more damaging it was for Skene and the prosecution. At last Skene licked his lips, and leaned forward. He said something in a low voice.

  Warlock snapped at him.

  ‘You’ll have to speak more clearly!’

  ‘I said I was subjected to a court martial.’

  ‘The result?’

  ‘I was cleared.’

  Warlock sneered.

  ‘On a technicality, I understand.’

  Skene made no reply. Warlock raised the paper he held in his hand.

  ‘I have a record here, which comprises a summary of the findings of the court. You were given a dishonourable discharge after serving a period in a military prison for complicity in a smuggling operation involving the theft of Army trucks and equipment. The major charge of involvement in the sale of drugs purloined from Army stores was not proceeded with after a witness who could have testified to your involvement suffered an accident while sea-bathing. Is that correct?’

  Skene made no reply. His earlier impassiveness had turned to controlled indifference: he was not on trial here. Warlock thought otherwise.

  ‘An interesting document, this record. And your discharge papers. . .the sum total of the comments suggests the court martial was rather less than satisfied about certain aspects of your testimony. To put it plainly, the court was of the opinion you were lying in your testimony given before them.’

  Weir, counsel for the prosecution, rose in protest.

  ‘Whatever a court martial may have thought does not amount to proof — and even if it did, such proof would apply to a charge of perjury as before that court martial, not before this court. I must protest, for my learned friend is dealing in matters that are irrelevant to this present hearing!’

  ‘Irrelevant?’ Warlock raised an amazed eyebrow. ‘Is it irrelevant here that the prosecution seeks to use, as a witness to truth, a man who has the sort of record Skene can show? Theft, drug-smuggling, perjury—’

  Weir was still protesting vigorously at Warlock’s tactics in introducing as fact, matters unproved in law as Crow left. But that, Crow thought to himself, was no unusual state of affairs for Jason Warlock.

  * * *

  ‘There are many examples of irrational thinking and behaviour in the application of justice,’ the professor said. ‘The law states that a man is responsible when he has to answer for his own actions, but such responsibility has been attributed, illogically and yet with a curious absolute logic, to things, animals and even corpses. According to Pausanias in the fourth century BC a statue was condemned to death by drowning in the sea because its fall had caused a man’s death. In 1773 the judges of Lorraine enjoined the mice infesting the region to withdraw in three days because their presence had damaged the crops. Exodus itself states : “If an ox gore a man or a woman that they die, then the ox shall surely be stoned and his flesh shall not be eaten”. Pausanias, again, speaks of the Court of the Prytaneum where they try the axe, and sometimes acquit it, of killing the man . . .’

  Crow glanced at his watch. It was too late to attempt to leave the conference now and attend the session in the magistrates court. He was not particularly interested in the lecture, concerned as it was with ‘Collaboration between Doctors and Jurists — the Basis of a New Penal Justice’, but it did give him the chance to sit and think.

  While he had been watching the conduct of Warlock’s defence he had also been observing Martin Evans, and Crow continued to be struck by the air of resigned submissiveness he affected. It puzzled Crow; if Evans was being clever he was masking it well, for capitulation still seemed to be his watchword. He had even shown a certain irritation at some points where Warlock had been attacking the witnesses and seeking to discredit their testimony.

  An
d Warlock had done a pretty good job of that, Crow thought grimly.

  ‘. . . in the Italian School of Criminology,’ the professor was droning on, ‘it is suggested a man cannot be held morally responsible since his behaviour is the result of many factors operating independently on his own will; he must however be considered socially responsible when he attacks the organisation of the community, the safety or the mores of its members. Not criminal responsibility, but social defence.’

  It would be Dai Davies, the fish-and-chip merchant, who would be facing Warlock today.

  Crow wondered what Warlock would do to Davies. He remembered his own interview with the fish-and-chip merchant, his own scepticism at the argument that Davies had recognized a brooch worn by the dead woman when he had seen it, and her, only once, about ten in the evening as it was getting dark. Ten in the evening on Tuesday, June 6th . . .

  On a sudden impulse, Crow fished in his pocket for his diary even though he had checked it before. Sure enough, Tuesday had been the 6th, and it fitted with the fish-fryer’s story.

  But there was something there that bothered Crow; he wondered whether it would have bothered Warlock also . . .

  The man next to Crow rose to his feet suddenly and said something in a loud voice. Startled, Crow turned to stare at him and then realised that the professor had finished his talk and questions were to be asked. The man on Crow’s right had been the first questioner. The professor was starting to answer.

  ‘A good point, a good point. What indeed is the rationale behind the law? If the idea is to protect young girls, the offence is already covered by that of unlawful sexual intercourse. Can there be eugenic reasons for the abhorrence with which the offence is treated? Dr Allen has shown in his Textbook of Psychosexual Disorders that no studies have satisfactorily been made of the offspring of such unions — they do not occur with sufficient frequency. Certainly, it is not abnormal among animals, it was practised by the Aztecs and by Cambyses of Persia. The modern view—’

  ‘One moment, Professor,’ the man beside Crow insisted. ‘We have been discussing an offence that was cognizable by ecclesiastical courts until 1908 except for a period during 1650 until 1660, and it now seems ridiculous that the feeble coercion of the spiritual court should have been replaced by the harshness of the temporal criminal court.’

  Crow began to rise; he had no idea what they were talking about and it was time he left to see the Chief Constable. The professor at the rostrum stared at him in brief irritation, then ignored him as he went on,

  ‘Exactly my point, my dear sir. The modern view, as I was about to say, is still dominated by the Levitical injunction and the rigorous hostility of the Judaic-Christian ethic. This must be the basis of the taboo, it is certainly based more upon deeply seated psychological and religious grounds than on a knowledge of eugenics. But,’ he continued, his voice booming to the back of the hall as Crow slipped quietly out, ‘think of the people concerned. For them, in this modern world, must life be a tragedy, must love be a crime . . .?’

  * * *

  The Chief Constable and the Chief Superintendent were both waiting in the broad, oak-panelled office in the County buildings near the court. The Chief Superintendent stood by the window; he was in a bad temper, but Crow was not prepared to pull any punches in this interview simply to save the Chief Superintendent’s feelings.

  The Chief Constable was more controlled but he was less closely concerned, obviously; it was not on his desk that the buck would lie. He was worried, nevertheless. He waved Crow to a chair. Crow perched himself on the edge of the brown leather seat and placed his hands on his knees. He felt vaguely annoyed, and the feeling of annoyance disturbed him for he wanted to remain cool in this matter.

  The fact was, of course, he had not wanted his original role to be merely advisory in the first instance; had it been a normal role he would have had more control over decisions and the present situation would not have arisen.

  He gained no satisfaction from the fact things were not going well; it was a reflection upon all police cases if this one failed.

  “This man Warlock is no fool,’ said the Chief Constable, massively stating the obvious.

  ‘Did he give Mr Davies a rough time this morning?’ Crow asked. ‘I wasn’t in court.’

  ‘He gave him a rough time,’ the Chief Constable said, intoning the words like a requiem. ‘The matter of dates came up, and where Davies had been so positive about Tuesday the 6th of June when he gave evidence to us, he is less than positive now. Warlock made him admit that he could have been mistaken. He stuck to the date under re-examination by Weir, of course, and that saved the situation, but Warlock had certainly made him sweat. I must confess I don’t quite see why Warlock is going to all this trouble, but he’s making a mess of our witnesses nevertheless, casting doubt on their veracity—’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ Crow said quietly. ‘He’s going to make a submission of no case to answer.’

  The Chief Superintendent humphed and walked across the room to take a seat. The Chief Constable scowled thoughtfully.

  ‘The magistrates won’t accept that plea.’

  Crow agreed.

  ‘I don’t think they will, but the reason why Warlock is pressing now is that he wants all the evidence from these witnesses down on record. He’s well aware this case is hastily presented, far from complete—’

  ‘I can’t say that I—’ the Chief Superintendent began, but the Chief Constable silenced him with a quick gesture.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Crow continued in a steely voice, ‘this case came to prosecution before enough work had been done on it. Warlock is sensitive and long experienced; he guessed how the wind blew. So he’s roasted each witness and roasted them well. He took James Klein and showed him up to be a man with a shady background who could even have ended up in prison himself; he picked Jack Scales to pieces by emphasising that the man had been less than truthful in his statements to the police — who, incidentally, were shown up as not having done their homework properly; and he went to town afterwards on this man Skene. I interviewed Skene with Inspector Jones and thought him a slippery customer, outwardly direct, if garrulous, but a man to be watched. Warlock seized him, shook him, and showed him to be a man with a record of possible perjury, and dishonesty. Now what does all this mean?’

  ‘You tell us,’ the Chief Constable said coldly.

  ‘It means that the prosecution have brought forward as witnesses to testify against Martin Evans a collection of people who, between them, have very few honest bones in their bodies. The prosecution can produce no witnesses as to the murder, no connection between Evans and the dead woman other than proximity to the pit head and the shaft and the office — and marital ties of some age. And if what you say about Mr Davies is correct, the prosecution cannot even fix the date when Davies saw her in Pentre — fix it with any exactitude, anyway.’

  ‘So what do you suggest we do?’ the Chief Superintendent said grumpily.

  ‘It’s not too late even now,’’ Crow said. ‘Pull out all the stops. To start with, check whether Skene actually did come to the valley during that period as Warlock suggested. Warlock may have information we don’t. Or he may have been bluffing. Check on Scales’s movements after the Isle of Arran returned with her damaged engines. Check all the little things you didn’t check before. And do it fast. Warlock’s done damage; if this case reaches the Crown Court we need to plug the gaps.’

  ‘It’ll reach the Crown Court all right,’ the Chief Superintendent said angrily. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so I think we are overreacting. This man Warlock has chased these witnesses around the courtroom a bit but he hasn’t got them to change their stories, has he?’

  Crow stared at the Chief Superintendent aware that the turn of events rankled with him, aware he was very much on the defensive. But it was too late in the day to be gentle with him.

  ‘I think I’d better spell it out for you.’ Crow spoke quietly, his deep-set eyes fixed on the
Chief Superintendent. ‘Your witnesses have not let you down, yet. But they will. Warlock has shown gaps, he’s inviting us to plug them. If we don’t, he’ll tear their testimony wide open in the Crown Court. If we do, and if the stories given by the witnesses in the Crown Court differ much in an attempt to plug the gaps, he’ll tear us apart and accuse the prosecution of tampering with the evidence. What he’s done in court so far is to cast doubts on the witnesses — he’ll do a damn sight more later. If the magistrates say there is a case to answer, and my guess is that they will, you can look out for fireworks in the Crown Court.’

  ‘But I don’t see—’ began the Chief Superintendent.

  ‘The facts are simple,’ Crow interrupted him firmly. ‘Dai Davies is doubtful about dates; Skene may still have been involved with the case after he says he was; Scales could still have been around when Mrs Stark died, and he certainly lied to you about his departure; we still need to know how deeply Klein is concerned and whether he really was on a business trip when she died. But above all, there’s Evans’s confession.’

  The Chief Superintendent shook his head.

  ‘We’ve got him there,’ he insisted. ‘That’s one thing that will still stand up.’

  ‘It’s never stood up with me,’ Crow said quietly.

  Both men stared at him. Crow sat still and contemplated his shoes. After a charged silence, it was the Chief Constable who found his tongue first.

  ‘But you were there when he confessed!’

  ‘That’s why I’ve been uneasy about it all along.’

  The Chief Superintendent snorted derisively.

  ‘Aw, come on! I’ve read that statement. It’s clear and precise. Martin Evans takes the whole thing on himself and supplies motive, opportunity and act. It’s the best bit of evidence I’ve ever seen in such a case, and it was given in front of two senior officers, written down, signed . . . and now you say you have doubts about it. For crying out loud—’

  ‘I’d better make myself clear, Chief Superintendent. You will recall I advised against proceeding immediately with the prosecution. This was one of the reasons. As you so rightly say, I was there when Evans was questioned. The statement is clear, as you say. But I’ve never been happy about the circumstances in which it was given.’