by Sue Nicholls
‘And did you have a smooth relationship?’
‘Yes. No fights if that’s what you mean. In fact, I can’t even remember a heated discussion.’
‘But you knew he had a temper.’
‘He has a strong sense of justice. His hackles rise if someone is thoughtless, but he’s never been anything but loving with Kitty, his daughter. I think her happiness is a priority for him.’
‘And with his ex-wife? Did he get angry with her?’
Maurice pauses and presses his fingers into the nape of his neck, tipping back his head to stare at the ceiling. ‘He did get frustrated at first. I think he felt he was being excluded from decisions about Kitty’s future. But he and Fee came to an understanding eventually.’
***
‘Yeah, he raised his voice once or twice. At the beginning he found it difficult to get to grips with the way Fee had walked out on him. We all felt the same about our relationships, it’s why we got together. Mutual support.’ Mick shrugs.
‘It’s a bit of a coincidence don’t you think, Mr Adu, that your wives are all dead?’
‘Unbelievable.’ Mick sweeps his head from side to side. ‘Millie was the first. A terrible accident. Paul and Maurice were there for me every step of the way. If they hadn’t been, I would have cracked up.’ He frowns. ‘Of course, we didn’t know Twitch was dead. She went missing and everyone thought she might have run away because of the pressure. She was a depressive, but we thought that if she’d killed herself, she would have made it easier to find her, and left a note.’
The barrister for the prosecution rises to cross examine. ‘You saw Mr Owen-Rutherford with the defendant’s ex-wife, on your way to the airport, did you not.’
Yeah. I didn’t know who he was, although I recognised him from somewhere. It was only later that I realised it was the guy we’d seen when we were in the deli. I thought he was Paul’s neighbour. I told Paul as soon as I got home.’
The lawyer stops pacing the floor and searches Mick’s face. ‘And now Mrs Owen-Rutherford is dead too.’
‘Yes. What do you want me to say? It’s terrible, but I don’t see how Paul could be responsible.’
***
‘You are Mr Rutherford’s receptionist, I believe. May we know your name?’
Max’s receptionist kneads her hands together. ‘Julie Glover.’
‘And how long have you worked for Mr Rutherford, Julie.’ The defence barrister makes his voice sympathetic.
‘About six years.’
‘Six years. You must know him well after all that time.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Were you responsible for filing his notes?’
‘No. Mr Rutherford kept those in a cabinet in his office. He was very security conscious.’
‘And in all the time you worked for him, did he give any indication that he was having a relationship with anyone?’
Julie nods. ‘I guessed he’d met someone a year or two ago. Not that he said anything to me about it, but I could tell. He took more trouble over his appearance and once he took a bunch of flowers out to lunch with him.’
‘But before that, no signs of romance?’
Julie gives her head a quick shake. ‘No.’
‘But you might not have known. If he’d had another girlfriend.’
‘I might not, but he did ask me out once. I said no of course, I’m happily married.’
‘Did Mr Rutherford know that you were married?’
‘Yes.’ She tightens her lips.
The prosecutor smiles at this final statement and rises to cross examine. ‘You didn’t do his filing? Surely as a receptionist and administrator that would be something in the job description.’
‘Well, I did some filing, correspondence, bills and so on.’
‘So, you would have seen letters going out to clients confirming their appointments, for example.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Mr Thomas there.’ Fitzsimons nods in Paul’s direction, ‘did you confirm his appointments?’
‘Yes, although there was one occasion when he rang asking for an emergency consultation.’
‘Would you tell the court when that was, please, Mrs Glover?’
‘It was 2nd March.’
‘Do you remember Mr Thomas arriving at the practice on that occasion?’
Julie’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘You do? And how did he seem?’
Objection. The witness is being asked to speculate.’
‘Sustained.’
‘Sorry My Lord.’
‘Julie, would you describe to the court, the way Mr Thomas behaved on that day.’
‘He looked stiff. He hardly spoke to me while he sat and waited for Mr Rutherford to come out and collect him.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Glover. No further questions.’
***
In his summing up, Fitzsimons, for the prosecution, struts back and forth before the jury. The twelve men and women lean back in their seats, pulling away from his considerable presence.
‘The defence has tried to distract you from the facts by throwing suspicion on the counsellor, Mr Owen-Rutherford, a man of good reputation, who took to his career because he wanted to help people who had suffered at the hands of deserting spouses. Who better to understand desertion than a man who had it inflicted upon him as a child, and how worthy of him to use that experience to help others?
Members of the jury, you have heard in the evidence that this man,’ Fitzsimons indicates Paul with an outstretched arm, his finger jabbing in accusation, ‘this man, has lied and fought his way through life since his wife left him. We have heard witnesses state that he caused grievous bodily harm, frightened his daughter so much that she refused to see him, and raped a woman, not any woman but a close friend of his ex-wife’s. He has caused hurt at work, lied to his friends, and spied on his wife. He had the motives of jealousy, and anger at being duped.’
As he takes his seat the jury members stare at Paul. Are their faces speculative, or accusing? Paul is afraid to contemplate. He hopes his own barrister will make as convincing an argument in his defence.
The lawyer for the defence rises and walks confidently towards the jurors. The twelve members lean towards him. Again, Paul wonders if he can read anything into their body language, so different for the defence from their apparent revulsion of the prosecutor.
‘On the one hand we have Paul Thomas, loving and passionate, who rushed to his ex-wife’s side at great expense in concern that she had been misled. A man who cares deeply for his daughter and is a faithful and reliable friend. A man who admits to still loving his wife despite the way she treated him.
On the other we have a lying, scheming and unethical counsellor. Max Owen-Rutherford pumped his client, Mr Thomas, far more than was necessary about his ex-wife. He then became everything she looked for in a man. He lied to her, talked her into a holiday and duped her and Mrs Adu, and Fee’s small and innocent daughter, Kitty, into taking part in a marriage. He had a motive - two motives even. First, from his own experience, his dislike of women who desert their men, and second, money. He was in terrible debt, and Fee Thomas was a wealthy woman. Max Rutherford, or William Owen, or whatever name you choose to call him, married Fee to become her next of kin, and so inherit her savings and her life insurance.
Mr Owen-Rutherford pretended to be someone he was not. He lied about his career on the oil rigs, used a false name and tricked this unsuspecting woman, Fee Thomas, into marrying him. Then he pushed her from a cliff-top to a violent death. He wanted revenge for all the pain of his childhood. He needed money to pay off his debt.
‘There can be no doubt that Mr Thomas is prone to anger but this, historically, has been a knee-jerk re-action to anti-social behaviour. He took the expensive step of attending counselling sessions because he recognised the impact of his anger on himself and those around him.
His motives for going all that way to Mauritius were not, as the prosecution sugg
ests, to kill Fee, but to protect her.
‘You have heard that despite Mr Owen-Rutherford being at the top of that same cliff where his wife died, the police did not investigate him as fully as they should have done, instead concentrating their efforts on poor Mr Thomas. If they had checked, they would have found that Mr Owen-Rutherford had considerable motivation to commit this murder, and Mr Thomas would not be standing before you today.
When both lawyers are seated and the court has returned to silence, the judge has the final word, reminding the jury of the evidence they have heard. He sums up by saying, ‘There appear to be two suspects in this case, and they are also the only witnesses to the events that unfolded on that fateful afternoon. The law demands that you must be in no doubt if you are to pronounce the defendant guilty. If you are satisfied that the police procedures were carried out properly and that Mr Owen-Rutherford could not possibly have murdered his new wife, then you should return a guilty plea, but if there is doubt in your mind, you must find Paul Thomas not guilty.
***
Paul looks down at the courtroom from the witness stand. Below him, members of the public, the press, his friends, his parents and Gloria, sit with their eyes riveted on the returning jury. The men and women file into their places and their leader, the woman with the orange hair, rises to her feet.
The judge clears his throat. ‘Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict upon which you all agree?’
’We have.’
‘Do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?’
Paul stiffens, his breath shallow and his pulse fast.
The woman looks at Paul and smiles, then turns to the judge. ‘Not guilty.’
Paul inhales, plonks onto the seat behind him and covers his face with both hands. Tears spurt from his eyes and between his fingers.
An officer of the court touches him on the shoulder.
‘Mr Thomas, you’re free to go.’
‘Yes.’ He pulls out a tissue. ‘Thank you.’
As he steps down, Mick and Maurice rush to his side. Mick grasps his friend in a huge bear-hug and Paul can feel the rough fabric of his jacket against his face and the banging of Maurice’s fists on his back.
Across the room, police officers are heading towards Max.
Chapter 71
‘Thank God that’s over.’ Paul stands with Mick and Maurice on the pavement outside the Crown Court watching Max being helped into the back seat of a police car. People troop down the steps of the building, gazing at the three men and whispering to one another.
Mick bangs Paul on the back. ‘It’s over man. You did it!’
Paul shakes his head, humping his shoulders to slide his fingers into the snug pockets of his jeans. ‘I thought I’d blown it for a while. They haven’t come after me for Twitch’s murder either. I suppose they might pin that on him as well.’
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Mick jerks his thumb at a pub a short way along the road, its sign is a picture of a bewigged and bespectacled elderly man with a bulbous nose and its name, The Judge and Jury. ‘Fancy a pint?’
Paul grins at his friends and punches Mick on the upper arm. ‘Your round, Mate. I’ve left my wallet at home.’
In the back of the police car, Max’s pale face looms from the dark interior staring in bleak amazement at the three men dodging through the crowd towards The Judge and Jury. The indicator of the unmarked vehicle blinks and its bumper nudges into the traffic. Soon he is lost among the flickering hips and bonnets of the rush-hour traffic.
Inside the pub the three men sit at a table surrounded by the rounded accents of members of the bar. Mick raises his pint. ‘To freedom and justice,’ he announces, and Paul raises his glass and smiles.
The End
You may think that there are some loose ends. You may wonder if justice was done. You may wish to read the sequel to this book: Letting Out the Worms.
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Find out more about Sue Nicholls on her website www.suenicholls.com. Here, you can follow her hilarious blog and discover more about her writing, as well as obtaining a free short novel: an intriguing case for Kitty Thomas.