John Mortimer - Rumpole A La Carte

by Rumpole A La Carte(lit)

  Please speak after the tone. Bleep.' I then held the instrument at arm's length and, when it had finished twittering, laid it to rest.

  I woke up at one in the morning with Dr Rahmat's case going round and round in my head. I wondered about mononucleosis, Dr Cogger's strange reluctance to be recognized in the Savoy Grill and his practical jokes at Barts. What exactly had he done there? I imagined in those feverish hours a live lady, substituted for a corpse on the dissecting table, who sat up suddenly d made several students faint. I imagined trying to connect an escoTt agency with a row about prescribing expensive drugs with g names, and sleep eluded me. At about two thirty I ook one ofDr Cogger's pills, which had no effect on me at all.

  187 The General Medical Council rules from an imposing headquarters in that mecca of doctors, the purlieus around Harlev Street. I crossed Portland Place, walked down Hallam Street and entered, wigless and without gown, the building in which the top medics, playing, for a while, the parts of judges, decide the fate of their fellow quacks.

  Up the stairs I found an imposing square chamber, decorated with the portraits and busts of solemn, whiskered old darlings "ho, no doubt, bled their customers with leeches and passed oa the information to alarmed small boys that self-abuse leads to blindness. A large stained-glass window bore the image of a ministering angel and two balconies, decorated with Adamstyle plaster-work, held up the visiting public and a large body of journalists from such scandalsheets as the Daily Beacon, whose ears were pricked up for all the details of Dr Rahmat's unusual medical treatment. At tables round three sides of a rectangle sat the eleven judges, a few of whom were not doctors, but lay brothers or sisters from allied worlds, such as nursing or sociology. Presiding at the top table was a lean and elderly Scot, the distinguished saw-bones. Sir Hector MacAuliffe, who looked as though he would have found Calvin himself a bit of a libertine.

  I found myself seated at a small table, as in an American courtroom, with Dr Rahmat in embarrassing proximity to me. I have always found it a great advantage to sit as far away from clients as possible, as their suggestions on how to conduct the rial, if adopted, almost always prove fatal. On my other side, Mrs Whittaker, grey-haired and clad in a decent black suit, was ready to take a note, a task she was to perform with admirable efficiency.

  At a table opposite me sat our Portia and the prosecution team. Between us, in the wide open spaces of the room, was the solitary chair and small table at which the witnesses gave evidence in some comfort. We were all provided with heavy(.

  duty microphones, so that our voices boomed and echoed as mough we were in a swimming-pool.

  *'' 'Yes, Mrs Erskine-Brown.' Sir Hector gave a nod of encouragement to the opposition and Claude's Philly stood up 188nd with an almighty swipe, drove straight down the fairway.

  'This sir, is a flagrant and distressing case of a doctor's violent and unprovoked sexual assault upon a young woman. When you have heard all the evidence, we have little doubt that you will find the charge of professional misconduct proved against Dr Rahmat beyond any shadow of reasonable doubt.' So Phillida went on to tell the story of this young children's nurse (making Naughty Marietta sound like some kind of junior Florence Nightingale) who called in to the surgery with a sore throat and was told to lie on the couch and, when her knickers were removed, Dr Rahmat 'thrust his hand between her legs, tried to kiss her and suggested that there was time for a quick one'.

  'Meaning sexual intercourse?' Sir Hector was clearly not about to take the view that my client was offering his patient a small sherry.

  'That is what we ask the committee to infer.' Phillida went on, 'Miss Liptrott screamed and had to struggle to free herself from the Doctor's embraces. She pulled her clothes back on and she was still screaming, "The beast! The beast!" as she ran into the reception area. There she was seen by the waiting patients and by a Miss Dankwerts. After the incident she suffered extreme bouts of nervous depression and was treated for that complaint by Dr Cogger, a senior member of the practice, whom I shall be calling as a witness.' 'Very fair. She puts the case most fairly. And old Tim Cogger. He will be fair to me also.' Dr Rahmat, since he arrived in Court, had seemed in a confident mood. Now his optimistic words were caught up by the microphone, causing a glare of disapproval from Sir Hector and an ironic smile from Phillida, hich seemed to promise stormy weather to come.

  •I I imposed a vow of silence on my client until he came to give nis evidence, and then I heard Phillida ask if she might call Dr Cogger first as he was a busy man and had to get away to his Practice. To this I readily agreed, as it would suit me very well to Put the case I had worked out in the early hours to the enior doctor before I came to cross-examine the mysterious "Marietta.

  • r Cogger was apparently well known to Sir Hector, and to 189 several members of the committee to whom he nodded in a friendly fashion as he settled himself in the witness's chair.

  Yes, he told Phillida, he had known Dr Rahmat since he joined the practice and always found him a pleasant and hardworking colleague 'within his limitations'. He had been shocked at the complaint Miss Liptrott made when he treated her for nervous depression, following the incident in the surgery. Finally, with great seriousness, Mrs Erskine-Brown asked, 'And tell us, Dr Cogger, if a young woman came to you with a sore throat, can you think of any reason for asking her to lie on a couch and remove her knickers?' There was a certain amount of chortling from the Press Gallery, at which an attendant in a commissionaire's uniform shouted, 'Silence!' Sir Hector glared savagely upwards and Dr Cogger shrugged his muscular shoulders and said, with apparent sorrow, 'I'm afraid I can't.' 'Dr Cogger. You are no doubt familiar with infectious mononucleosis, commonly known as glandular fever?' I began my cross-examination.

  'Of course.' 'Is it not so prevalent among young people that it is sometimes called the "kissing disease"?' 'I think you may take it, Mr Rumpole', Sir Hector spoke whilst still gazing up at the ceiling, apparently bored, 'that we all know what glandular fever is.' 'Well, I should have thought so, sir.' I tried a charming smile which he didn't notice. 'That's why I can't understand why anyone should find Dr Rahmat's method of examination in the least peculiar. Is not a symptom of glandular fever', I turned to the witness, 'a sore throat?' 'It can be,' Dr Cogger agreed reluctantly.

  'In fact, the patient may complain of a sore throat only?' 'That may happen.' 'But if you suspect glandular fever you may look for the other symptoms, such as swellings in the armpits and the groin?' 'You might.' 'A competent doctor would do so?' 190'If he suspeced mononucleosis. Yes.' 'So when a ymng woman, who complained of a sore throat, came to a competent doctor, he might ask her to lie on the couch and remove hei knickers so that he could examine her groin?' 'It's possible' 'Dr Cogger. Are you trying to assist this committee by telling us the tmth?' 'Yes. Of course.' 'Then why lid you tell my learned friend, Mrs ErskineBrown, that y"u could think of no reason why Dr Rahmat should examini this young lady in the way described?' 'Steady on. Ax Rumpole!' Dr Rahmat did his best to keep his whisper away from the microphone, but he was clearly agitated. 'You ion't mean to attack Tim Cogger, do you? Such a decent fellow' 'I mean to vin this case for you, if you'll only shut up,' I whispered bad, and wished my client would go for a walk in the park until i: was all over. 'Well, what's the answer?' 'I suppose tie complaint you're suggesting didn't occur to me.' 'You mean, you're a good doctor, like Dr Rahmat, within your limitatiois? One limitation being you forget the odd disease occasioially?' Dr Cogger rushed and moved restlessly, looking as though he'd have likedto have got me out on the rugger field and done for me in the sc-um. Rahmat whispered, 'Don't be so merciless, Rumpole,' andSir Hector came to the witness's rescue with 'I hope you're no: suggesting that a routine examination includes the doctor tryhg to kiss his patient and suggesting there might be "time for a quick one"?' The lugubrious Scot had, unhapP"y5 put his firger on the weakness of our case.

  Instead of aiguing, I decided that the best form of defence was the attaci which I had planned during the sleepless watc
hes of the light and which, in daylight and under the cold es of the hostile medics, seemed even more perilous. And my ent was probably going to hate it.

  Dr Cogger. You say you treated Miss Liptrott for nervous lension. What lid you give her? A couple of aspirins?' ;? 191 'No. I prescribed Phobomorin, so far as I can remember.' 'Is that an expensive drug?' 'I believe it's fairly expensive. I haven't looked up the price lately.' 'Is it supplied by the firm of manufacturing chemists whose representative buys you lunch at the Savoy Hotel?' The question took the witness by surprise and he seemed to feel in danger. He had denied he'd ever been at such a lunch to me, but now, on his oath, he seemed to feel an unexpected compulsion to tell the truth. He did his best by smiling confidentially at Sir Hector and saying, 'Peter Kellaway of Marchmain's is a personal friend. We lunch together occasionally.' 'And when you last lunched together who paid?' 'I can't remember.' 'Try to think.' 'It may have been Peter.' 'Or may it have been his company, Marchmain's? The manufacturing chemist?' 'Mr Rumpole', Sir Hector spoke as though I was a backward medical student who insisted on asking questions about housemaid's knee in the brain surgery class, 'we are here to decide if your client made a sexual assault on his patient. What on earth have Dr Cogger's lunches at the Savoy got to do with it?' 'I quite agree, sir. These questions can't possibly be relevant.' Counsel for the Prosecution arose in all her glory.

  'One at a time, please, Portia.' I managed a resonant whisper across the room and then turned on the elder of the kirk. 'It is a well-known fact that in any trial questions which may seem irrelevant at first lead straight to the truth, however deeply it is buried. Therefore wise judges are extremely reluctant to interrupt a cross-examination by the Defence. Less experienced tribunals are, of course, frequently tempted to do so.' I got a look from the presiding Scot which seemed to indicate a desire to sentence me to a long stretch in the Aberdeen Home '. for Incurables, but then he conferred with his legal assessor, a balding barrister in mufti, and decided to let me go on. 'Continue, Mr Rumpole, provided the next question shows some relevance to this case.' 192'You said Dr Rahmat had his limitations?' I attacked the witness again. 'Did you mean that he was unwilling to agree to prescribe certain drugs?' 'We had some disagreements about drugs. Yes. I thought his treatment often old-fashioned.' 'You mean he wouldn't prescribe expensive drugs from Marchmain's?' In the silence that followed. Sir Hector at last leant forward attentively and the other doctors appeared interested. I thought they'd known cases of drug companies offering sweeteners to medical practitioners.

  'Some of the drugs I thought we should use came from Marchmain's, I suppose.' 'Yes, I suppose so. Tell me, did you only get expensive lunches out of it, or did a little cash change hands occasionally?' 'Hold on, Mr Rumpole! This is quite unnecessary.' My client was clearly upset.

  'Oh, do shut up, Rahmat!' Hostile witnesses can be coped with, but mutinous clients are intolerable. Then I regained my composure and smiled quite winsomely at Dr Cogger. 'Well, Doctor. Would you care to answer the question?' 'Perhaps', Phillida rose and smiled at the seat of judgment in a way which was far more winsome than anything I could have managed, 'the witness should be warned that he needn't answer questions which might, well', she picked up and inserted the distasteful words as though with a delicate pair of forceps, 'incriminate him.' This was a grave tactical error by the fair prosecutor because Sir Hector duly warned the witness and Dr Cogger came to the conclusion that it was a question which, with the best will in the world, he preferred not to answer. From then on, of course, his credibility content sank rapidly.

  Owe right!' Rhamat's behaviour was extraordinary. 'No "sed at all for Tim to answer such an impertinent question!' tou can't make an omelette without breaking eggs,' I told and then turned to the witness. 'And because he refused ° take part in your prescription racket', Rahmat winced and 193 sighed with disapproval again, 'you wanted to get him out of the practice?' 'It's very hard to get rid of a partner as you know, Mr Rumpole.' Dr Cogger may have thought his answer clever. In fact, it was unwise in the extreme.

  'Very hard,' I agreed, 'unless you can get him found guilty of professional misconduct.' 'Mr Rumpole!' Dr Cogger leaned back in his witness's chair, all his self-confidence returned as he said with great good humour, 'You're not suggesting I went into Dr Rahmat's room and tempted him into seducing me, are you?' 'Don't ask me questions!' I tried the snub brutal and was pleased to see that the Judges around us had been less than amused by Dr Cogger's fantasy seduction. 'Just look at this, will you.' This was a document unhappily familiar to the Prosecutor another copy of that issue of Casanova, which had turned up both in Erskine-Brown's room and Dr Cogger's surgery. It was carried to the witness by one of the aged commissionaires, with a marker in the relevant page. 'Do you see an advertisement there, headed naughty marietta?' 'What on earth has this got to do with the case we're trying?' Sir Hector had noticed the cover of Casanova and knew the devil's work when he saw it.

  'If you listen,' I told him, 'you will soon discover the answer.' And I asked the witness if it didn't appear to be an advertisement for an escort service.

  'It would seem so.' 'And do you see a photograph of the young lady who calls herself Naughty Marietta?' 'Yes, I do.' 'Is that Miss Marietta Liptrott? The lady you treated for a nervous disorder and the complainant in this case?' There was a long silence. Sir Hector looked at the ceiling. t Other doctors examined their finger-nails or sat with their pencils poised waiting to write down the answer. Portia looked at me with a half-smiling tribute to Rumpole's ability to pull something out of the hat in the most unlikely cases and Rahmat, 194of course, whispered, 'Stop the attack on poor Tim, Mr Rumpole.

  It is quite uncalled for.' 'It looks like her,' Dr Cogger admitted at last.

  'It is her,' I said. After all, I had confirmed that fact on the telephone. 'This children's nurse we've heard about goes out to dinner for money. Rather like you, Dr Cogger.' 'Just what are you suggesting?' 'You know quite well, don't you? I'm suggesting you paid this girl to stage the scene in Dr Rahmat's consulting room.

  The scream, the rushing out into the waiting-room, the complaint and the nervous disorder. It was all an act. A put-up job. So you could get Dr Rahmat out of your practice. Because he wouldn't cooperate. Did you suggest she should complain of a sore throat, or was it just a bit of luck that Dr Rahmat suspected glandular fever?' 'That's absolutely ridiculous! I didn't know of the existence of Miss Liptrott until after the incident took place.' 'Did you not? This incident, we've heard, took place on March i3th of this year. Will you look at the cover of that Casanova What is the date on it?' Dr Cogger took the magazine with some reluctance and announced with even more hesitation, 'January of this year.' 'And you know where this magazine was found, don't you?

  We can ask Miss Dankwerts, if you don't wish to answer.' 'I know.' 'Will you tell the tribunal?' 'Apparently it was found in the waiting-room.' 'Of your surgery?' 'Yes.' I sat down then next to a client, who, far from congratulating roe on a cross-examination of even more than my usual brilliance, sat with his head in his hands, murmuring, 'Oh, Mr Rumpole. You shouldn't have put poor old Tim through the ""ll like that. There was no need, I told you that. No need whatsoever.' 'Nonsense, old darling. Pull yourself together. You can't ake an omelette without breaking eggs, as I told you.' And, en I had to leave him to stew because Miss Liptrott, who i95 had come into the room and was taking the oath, now demanded my full attention.

  The complainant was not, in any sense, beautiful, but she was young, her eyes were bright, her jeans clean and well-ironed and she seemed, even in the circumstances in which she found herself, unexpectedly cheerful. She admitted, in answer to Portia's gentle questioning, that she was a children's nurse who often went out in the evenings, as one of a number of friends who had got together to form an escort agency, which they had named, and this seemed to give her particular pleasure, after her.

  Looking at Miss Liptrott, I was discouraged to see what appeared to be an honest witness. I had fired all my ammunition at Dr Cog
ger and, although severely holed below the water-line, he had not quite sunk. He had not admitted the conspiracy and I would need to get Marietta to crumble if Dr Rahmat were to be back plying his stethoscope as usual. All right, I guessed the more sensible doctors on the committee were thinking to themselves, perhaps she is an escort, which may mean she's a call girl. She's still entitled to have her sore throat seen to without being molested.

  Carefully, slowly, and with extreme tact my opponent took the girl through her story. Now we were in the consulting room and Dr Rahmat had asked her to lie on the couch.

  'And what happened then?' 'He said he just wanted to see if I had any swellings and asked if I'd mind him feeling.' I 'Did he remove your knickers?' 'No. I think I may have pulled them down.' 'And then? What happened then?' 'I am not... quite sure.' The witness frowned slightly and seemed to be doing her very best to remember. 'I think he went to a basin in the corner of the room to wash his hands. 11 'And what did you do?' 'Oh, I ran screaming out of the door.' Marietta smiled at Sir Hector as though inviting him to join-, her in laughing at the silliness of her behaviour.

  'What made you do that?' Phillida was still admirably patient.

  'I don't know, really. I'd been up late with a very boring gentleman who kept me up talking half the night about the mortgage rates. I was overtired, I think. My nerves were bad.