by P. D. James
“After that I think he would have moved quite quickly, dragging the body across and arranging it in her swivel chair. I remember reading somewhere that this attempt to make the body look normal, even comfortable, is typical of killers who didn’t intend their deed. He decided to leave the room unlocked, with the key still in place. That way it would be assumed that the killing was the work of an intruder. Who would be able to prove otherwise? The wound, to his relief, did not bleed, and the dagger, when he withdrew it, was remarkably clean. But even he knew that it would be tested for prints. He extracted with care the middle portion of the evening paper to wrap the dagger, took the weapon downstairs to the basement cloakroom, washed it thoroughly, then wound a length of toilet tissue round the handle. He tore up the newspaper and flushed the pieces down the lavatory bowl. He then returned to his own room and turned off the gas fire. Does this recital, so far, seem to you a convincing hypothesis, Commander?”
“It’s what I believe happened, yes.”
“Our putative Desmond is happily ignorant of the minutiae of the criminal law but he does know that malefactors find it convenient to supply the police with an alibi. For a man without an accomplice and one who lives alone this presented a difficulty. He decides to go at once to Rules in Maiden Lane, a short walk only, leaving his briefcase in his room. Mrs. Carpenter, who usually cleans his room, must not be allowed a sight of it, so he pushes it into the bottom drawer of his desk. His plan is to say that he left Chambers at seven-fifteen, not just after eight, and went home first to wash and leave his case. He realized that there would be a difficulty next morning, but the carrying of a raincoat over his arm and a more hurried entry than usual should deal with that little problem. I think he was rather pleased with his alibi. It was, of course, important to make sure that Pawlet Court was empty before he left the shelter of the doorway of Number Eight. There was no problem about his non-arrival home until after dinner. A neighbour if questioned might be able to attest that he came home at the usual time, but not that he didn’t. He dropped the dagger in Valerie Caldwell’s filing cabinet, scrunching the toilet tissue in his pocket for disposal in the first rubbish bin he found, and he remembered not to set the alarm system. But he made one mistake. Criminals usually do, I believe. Under stress, it is difficult to think of everything. On leaving, perhaps from long habit, he double-locked the front door. It would, of course, have been wiser to have left it open, thus casting suspicion on an outsider rather than on members of Chambers. The subsequent furore has, however, had its interest to a student of human nature. His own indignation and disgust on viewing the body next morning were unfeigned and, presumably, convincing. He did not place the full-bottomed wig on her head, nor did he waste his own blood.”
Dalgliesh said: “That was Janet Carpenter.”
“I thought it might be. So, Commander, we have devised a plausible solution to your problem. What a pity for you that it is unprovable. There isn’t a single piece of forensic evidence to link our protagonist with the crime. It’s much more likely that Janet Carpenter stabbed Miss Aldridge before decorating her with the wig, symbol of her profession, and the blood, which metaphorically she had shed. I am told she has confessed only to the desecrations, but could a woman like Janet Carpenter ever have brought herself to confess to murder? And if not Carpenter, why Desmond? How much more likely that someone from outside Chambers had gained entry and killed out of revenge or hatred. More likely, even, that it was Ashe. Ashe had an alibi, but alibis are meant to be broken. And Ashe, like Carpenter, is dead.
“You have nothing to reproach yourself with, Commander. Console yourself with the thought that all human justice is necessarily imperfect and that it is better for a useful man to continue to be useful than to spend years in gaol. But it wouldn’t happen, would it? The DPP would never allow so flimsy a case to be brought. And if it were brought, it wouldn’t need a Venetia Aldridge to defend it successfully. You are used to success, of course. Failure, even partial failure, must be galling, but perhaps salutary. It is good for us to be reminded from time to time that our system of law is human and, therefore, fallible and that the most we can hope to achieve is a certain justice. And now, if you’ll forgive me, I have this Opinion to write.”
They parted without another word. Making his way upstairs, Dalgliesh left his keys to Chambers with Harry Naughton, who came to show him out. As he walked across the court, Dalgliesh saw that Hubert Langton was just ahead of him. The Head of Chambers was walking without a stick but with the shuffling gait of an old man. He heard Dalgliesh’s footsteps, paused and seemed about to look back. Then, quickening his step, he walked resolutely on. Dalgliesh thought: He doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t even want to see me. Does he know? He slackened his pace to let Langton get ahead, then slowly followed. Carefully distanced, they made their way through the gas-lit court, then down Middle Temple Lane towards the river.
P. D. James is the author of twenty-one books, most of which have been filmed for television. She spent thirty years in various departments of the British Civil Service, including the Police and Criminal Law Departments of Great Britain’s Home Office. She has served as a magistrate and as a governor of the BBC. The recipient of many prizes and honours, she was created Baroness James of Holland Park in 1991 and was inducted into the International Crime Writing Hall of Fame in 2008. She lives in London and Oxford.
VINTAGE CANADA EDITION, 2010
Copyright © 1997 P. D. James
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Published in Canada by Vintage Canada, a division of Random House of
Canada Limited, Toronto, in 2010. Originally published in hardcover in
Canada by Alfred A. Knopf Canada, a division of Random House of Canada
Limited, in 1997, and simultaneously in Great Britain by Faber and Faber,
London. Distributed by Random House of Canada Limited.
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
James, P. D., 1920 —
A certain justice / P. D. James.
eISBN: 978-0-307-40040-6
I. Title.
PR6060.A56C46 2010 823’.914 C2010-902374-9
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