‘Thanks.’
‘Is it going to help?’
‘I think so,’ replied Brock slowly.
After he had replaced the receiver. Brock leaned back in his chair. Corry’s blood had been on the framed photograph of Charlotte Holter. Why had the photograph been in the drawer and not on the desk?
His mind suddenly connected up three things: the bloodied photograph, the trail of blood on the carpet, and the case of Regina v Smith.
Albert Smith had clubbed a woman to death, the woman he loved, and as a mad gesture of hatred and repudiation he had dragged her body down to leave it beneath a photograph of himself. Holter had been defending Albert Smith. Corry had been shot and dragged across the carpet to the base of the desk, on which had been the photograph of Charlotte Holter.
Chapter Twelve
HOLTER WAS pathetically bewildered by his arrest: it destroyed his satisfied self-assurance and his will to fight. He was a man who had always believed in the utter rightness of every aspect of the English law and its long traditions and this to a point where it became for him a dogma of his faith: the rules of conduct for members of the Bar were of greater importance than the ten commandments. He knew that, because of the dedication of himself, his fellow counsel, and the judges, the whole of crime detection was geared to only one thing, punishing the guilty and maintaining the freedom of the innocent. Yet, despite the fact that all his professional life had been devoted to supporting this objective, he, an innocent man, was now charged with a murder about which he knew nothing.
The misery of his innocence led him to say ridiculous things. He said he couldn’t help in the construction of his own defence. He said that he wouldn’t help because he was innocent and only the guilty needed to defend themselves.
Cheesman, Q.C., was briefed to defend Holter — a mixed honour for Cheesman since there would be no brief fee. At the preliminary hearing, he very briefly cross-examined the prosecution witnesses and then reserved his defence. An expected move which only partially hid the fact that he had not yet found how to conduct a worthwhile defence.
There was a consultation in one of the prison conference rooms a few days before the opening of the autumn assizes. Cheesman, his junior, Whits, and Jackley, instructing solicitor, were present. When Holter was escorted into the room by a warder, who retired, everyone was embarrassed.
‘Well, Radwick, how are things?’ asked Cheesman, with forced cheerfulness.
Holter stared at the other, then slumped down on to one of the free hard wooden chairs.
‘Have you got all you want for the moment?’
‘I didn’t do it,’ said Holter dully, ‘so how can they charge me?’ His naïvety could only be understood when one knew how completely he believed in justice.
Cheesman looked at the others, but they were careful to make it clear that he would have to do all the talking. ‘The evidence against you is pretty strong, Radwick.’
‘Did you get in touch with all those people?’
‘Most of them, yes.’
‘What did they say?’
‘They expressed real sympathy with you, but said they couldn’t possibly interfere with the course of justice.’
There was a silence. Jackley, who had more practical experience than the others of the needs of people on remand, took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Perhaps you’d like these, Mr Holter?’
Holter stared at the packet for several seconds before he took it. He lit a cigarette. ‘I didn’t kill Corry. I wasn’t there.’ Jackley undid his brief and the two barristers followed suit. The room was filled with the sounds of rustling papers.
‘I want first of all to have a word about Mrs Holter,’ said Cheesman.
‘What about her?’ demanded Holter, his voice regaining a little of its old force.
‘The prosecution can’t call her, of course, since she’s your wife. What we’ve to decide is whether to call her for the defence.’
‘Of course we call her.’
‘Radwick, we’ve got to weigh up things really carefully. We mustn’t forget that the prosecution evidence that she was in chambers is pretty strong. If we call her to support your evidence, what is going to happen when she’s cross-examined?’
‘She was never near chambers that night.’
‘As Mr Cheesman’s just said,’ murmured Jackley, ‘the evidence against her is rather strong.’
‘To hell with the evidence.’
‘Let’s just look at the admitted facts,’ said Cheesman. ‘Your wife went to Miss West and asked her to say she’d been there all evening. Yet your wife in fact left the house just before six. Why did she do this and where did she go?’
‘She went for a drive and was nowhere near chambers. She was not carrying on some dirty liaison.’
‘I’m merely looking at the evidence, Radwick, and trying to treat it on its merits.’
‘You don’t seem to know what you’re bloody well looking at.’
Cheesman stifled any anger he might have felt. ‘It wasn’t the first time your wife had asked Miss West to say, falsely, that she had been in that house all evening.’
‘Rachael West’s a liar and she always hated me because I’ve never tried to hide what I think of her.’
‘Look, we must leave that sort of thing alone. Can you tell me why your wife had this arrangement with her?’
‘She didn’t.’
‘Or why she borrowed Miss West’s car that Tuesday instead of using her own which was in perfectly good running order?’
‘That’s another of Rachael’s lies.’
‘There’s independent evidence to the truth of this.’
Then that’s a lie as well.’
‘Where did your wife go?’
‘Where she says she did: for a drive around the countryside.’
‘Very well. Why didn’t she use her own car?’
‘She did.’
Cheesman sighed as he turned over a sheet of paper. ‘A witness testified he saw a woman leaving the building in which your chambers are at a quarter to seven on Tuesday. From his evidence it could only have been your wife.’
‘He’s either a liar or a short-sighted fool.’
‘He’s certainly neither and his evidence is going to carry a very great deal of weight with the jury.’
‘Charlotte wasn’t there.’
‘We’ve got to decide how to handle the evidence of the face powder that was found in your room and which must have got there Tuesday night. Radwick, that powder is so expensive that only a handful of women in Hertonhurst use it and your wife is one of them.’
‘There’s nothing to say this was Charlotte’s.’
‘But can’t you see that this, together with all the other evidence pointing to her being present ...’
‘Which the hell side are you on?’
‘You know damn’ well my one aim is to help you as much as possible.’
‘Charlotte wasn’t in chambers. Can you understand that? What conceivable reason could there be for her being there?’
‘Because she was having an affair with Corry.’
Holter began to swear, with crude repetition. ‘She’s my wife,’ he shouted. ‘My wife, d’you understand? She wouldn’t even look at another man.’
‘It could happen,’ said Jackley.
‘Not to me it couldn’t. Our marriage isn’t like that.’
‘I’m afraid with the rather great difference in ages ...’
‘What’s that to do with it?’
‘The prosecution is going to claim it has a lot to do with it.’
Holter suddenly stood up and kicked his chair away from him. ‘Stop your filthy insinuations.’
Cheesman looked at Jackley, who shrugged his shoulders. Whits lit a cigarette. Cheesman turned over several pages of his proof. ‘Radwick, the people who were at the dinner at The Three Bells on the Tuesday say you were in a state when you arrived?’
Holter, who had been about to cross to the door, hesitated. ‘W
ell?’
‘Were you upset about something?’
Slowly, he sat down once more. After a while, he spoke in a flat voice. ‘I’d very nearly been run over. That surely was sufficient reason for being upset?’
‘What happened from the moment you left chambers?’
‘Corry and I left together. I went one way, when we were outside, and he went the other. I strolled along, thinking, and I was in that road behind the church. It was clear to cross so I started to do so and the next second a car came round the corner at a ridiculous speed. I moved as quickly as I could, but some part of the car touched me and I fell. Yet the car never stopped.’
‘It’s a pity we’ve got nothing to help prove that’s what happened.’
There was another silence.
Cheesman tapped the end of his silver pencil against his chin. ‘Will you tell us how you got the bruise on your neck which the police saw on the Wednesday?’
Holter flushed. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he snapped.
*
The assize court had been built in the middle thirties. The courtroom was large, airy, and light and it was unusual in that consideration had been given to the comfort of people other than just the judge.
The case of Regina v Holter naturally attracted considerable attention and several hundred members of the public queued although warned that only a hundred of them could be admitted. Great difficulty had been experienced in finding a judge to try the case who did not know Holter and, if possible, before whom Holter had never appeared. The legal profession, always jealous of its reputation, was ready to go to any lengths to make certain no one could accuse it of failing rigorously to punish its own wrongdoers. Justice had to be seen to be done more clearly than ever.
Mr Justice Proctor tried the case. He was a man who had never been accused of partiality by anyone, yet neither had anyone ever credited him with a strong sense of humanity. He saw the law as a fence with the innocent on one side and the guilty on the other. After committing a man to prison for several years, he was told the man had just hanged himself. His only comment was that, since suicide was a crime, the man had remained a criminal to the end.
Adems, prosecuting, was a round and tubby figure with a balloon face and a pair of horn rimmed spectacles which he frequently perched at the end of his nose. He opened the case shortly and concisely, dealing at length only with the question of motive.
‘Members of the jury, it has frequently been remarked that although motive is so often a vital part of a case of murder, it is in no way an essential one. The prosecution, as a point of law, does not have to prove a motive. In the present case, however, the motive behind the shooting of the dead man can be stated quite simply: it was jealousy. The accused’s wife was having an affair with Corry and because of this Corry was shot dead. If you are satisfied these are the facts, you will surely ask yourself: Who had cause to be jealous?
‘It may be as well at this point to deal with a question of law, although I am certain his lordship will address you on it in greater detail at some later stage of the trial. Is a husband entitled to escape conviction for murder — but not for manslaughter — if he kills his wife’s lover? The answer is clearly established. Should the husband find his wife and her lover in flagrante delicto and without pause kills either of them, the provocation is held to be so great that he is not guilty of murder. However, should he pause for any length of time before the act of killing, then he will be guilty of murder and not manslaughter. If the husband finds his wife and lover together in a compromising situation and then goes off to secure a weapon and returns to kill the lover with it, that is murder. That is the law and I shall say no more than that there is no evidence whatsoever that the dead man was caught in flagrante delicto.
‘Members of the jury, the murderer took from the cabinet on the wall a revolver that was hanging up inside, one of several mementoes of past murder trials. There is this bitterly ironic fact to this case, that the revolver used to kill Corry had already killed twice, and the two empty cartridge cases were still in the chambers together with four live rounds. Members of the jury, I would draw your attention to the several significant facts about this revolver. A casual murderer would surely have believed it to be empty since it was so openly displayed and he would have chosen as his weapon one of the daggers or knives that was in the cabinet. A casual murderer could not have fired this revolver, even had he known it to be loaded, without the greatest difficulty. If the gun is uncocked, it takes a very considerable pressure to pull the trigger: so considerable that experts will tell you that a casual murderer would either be likely to believe the gun was no longer working or else he would take so long that the victim must have time in which to struggle for his life. Yet there was no such struggle. On the other hand, if the gun is cocked, a safety catch is automatically applied, but the safety catch is practically impossible to find by chance or hurried search. Experts, members of the jury, will testify that in their opinion this gun could only have been fired in the circumstances it was by someone who knew precisely how it worked ...’
*
Traynton, in the witness-box, was a man of integrity suddenly faced by the need to keep faith with two diametrically opposed duties: he owed an absolute duty both to the law and to Holter.
‘You have told us that you arrived at chambers at nine o’clock,’ said Adems. ‘Will you describe what then happened?’
‘I went inside, sir.’
‘After unlocking the doors?’
‘I found the doors were unlocked, sir.’
‘Did that fact cause you to worry?’
‘I decided that the last person to leave chambers had been very careless, sir.’
‘Did you know who had been the last to leave chambers the previous night?’
‘No, sir.’
‘To your knowledge, who was there when you left?’
Traynton looked stolidly at the far wall and Adems had to repeat the question. Traynton then, in a voice devoid of inflexion, answered, ‘I have no idea, sir.’
Adems stared at the witness over the tops of his glasses. ‘As an efficient chief clerk, you must have known who had gone home by the time you left?’
Traynton’s ponderous bulk seemed to shiver. ‘I ... I was aware that some of the members had departed, sir.’
‘Shall we reach the answer by process of elimination? Had Mr Resse said good night to you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have you any reason to suppose he didn’t leave after speaking to you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Had Mr Spender said good night to you and, in so far as you knew, left?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What about Mr Aiden?’
‘He had said good night, sir.’
‘Did your junior clerk, Mr Marriott, leave before you did?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Was Mrs Fleming with you that afternoon?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then will you tell the court who might still have been in chambers other than the accused and the deceased?’
Traynton’s expression settled into one of hopeless despair.
‘Well, Mr Traynton?’
‘There was no one else to my knowledge, sir.’
‘When you left chambers there was no one else present other than the accused and the deceased?’
‘Yes, sir. But someone might have come in without my knowing.’
‘Is that a common occurrence?’
Traynton was silent.
‘Shall we return to events which we know took place? On the following morning, that is Wednesday the sixteenth of July, you found on your arrival that the two outer doors were unlocked and you naturally assumed that the last person to leave chambers had been very careless. Whom did you believe had been careless?’
‘I ... I ...’
‘Was it not Mr Holter?’
Cheesman without bothering to rise, objected: ‘You can’t cross-examine. He is your witness, you know.’
/>
Adems momentarily smiled. ‘I beg leave to doubt that.’ When it was clear the judge was going to say nothing, he addressed the witness again. ‘What happened next?’
‘I went into my room, sir, sorted through the mail and distributed it.’
‘Did anything unusual happen?’ asked Adems, with mild sarcasm.
‘There was a man lying on the floor of Mr Holter’s room, sir. It was clear he was very badly injured so I returned to the clerks’ room and telephoned Mr Holter.’
‘Why?’
‘Naturally, to tell him what had happened, sir.’
‘Don’t you think it would have been more correct to have contacted the police first?’
‘They are Mr Holter’s chambers.’
‘And he had been in them when you left the previous night,’ murmured Adems, as he turned a page of his proof.
Cheesman stood up. ‘My lord, I really must object. My learned friend has absolutely no right to try to imply what he has done.’
‘Quite so, Mr Cheesman,’ answered the judge blandly. ‘I fully agree that this is an inference for the jury to draw.’
Out-manoeuvred, and not wishing to give the judge room for further comment, Cheesman sat down.
Traynton stared over the heads of the jury in the hopes that by doing so he could disassociate himself from what was going on. He had always said that Mr Holter was not a gentleman: the fact that Mr Holter was now a prisoner on trial, publicly guarded by a warder, most bitterly showed how true that was.
*
Marriott, who followed Traynton into the box, tried to remain as cockily certain of everything as usual and failed. Years of intimate association with the courts had not prepared him for the loneliness of the witness-box.
Adems removed his spectacles and polished them on the edge of his gown. ‘Will you tell the court, to the best of your ability, what was normally on top of the accused’s desk?’
‘Papers and things.’
‘What things?’
‘You know, the usual kind of things.’
‘Whether counsel does, or does not, know is not the point,’ said the judge sharply. ‘He has asked you a question and you will answer it to the best of your ability.’
Dead Against the Lawyers Page 12