“Won’t do any good, miss. He’s gone completely off his head. Won’t listen to reason.”
“Tell him, Blair. Tell him Dick will listen to me.”
“She’s his wife.” The three words were grated from between clenched teeth.
Wally Morgan held Bolinda Vale’s reins. “Take care, Miss Laurie.”
“Dick wouldn’t hurt me.” Such a pretty place, water tinkling over shiny rocks, dog roses, tangled and wild, covering the creek bank in places, yet it could well be the scene of a massacre.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot! I mean it.”
“Dick, it’s me, Laurie.” She started climbing up the boulder-strewn hill.
“Go away.”
“Please, Dick, talk to me.”
“Only you, Laurie, no one else.”
“All right.”
She scrambled upwards towards a towering monolith of rock hanging precariously over the waterfall. From here Dick could keep an army at bay until he ran out of ammunition. His blond hair gleamed like a golden halo in the sunlight, and as he knelt on the ground, his eyes were wild, desperate. He cradled a gun in the crook of one arm and a cartridge belt lay close by.
“I didn’t kill her.” His face had gone so white the blue veins showed through his transparent skin.
“Of course you didn’t.” She inwardly shuddered. The front of his shirt was soaked in blood. “Come down and tell them. No one wants to hurt you.”
“She was already dead.” His face crumpled. His stutter became so bad Laurie could barely understand him. “She lay so still, all covered in blood. I tried to help. I didn’t do it. I didn’t.”
“Give me the gun.”
“No.”
“Please. You’ll only make things worse.”
“They’ll shut me away, Laurie. I couldn’t stand it.” He rubbed at his cheek. “I wouldn’t be able to wash the blood off.”
“Dick, please. I promise no one will hurt you.”
“Blair will.”
“No, he won’t. What a terrible thing to say.” Laurie shivered. Demented with grief, he was capable of anything.
“Your father is here, Wally Morgan and the police. They’ll make sure no-one harms you.”
“They all think I did it,” his voice rose hysterically. He trembled so much his whole body convulsed.
“Please,” she pleaded tearfully. “People could get killed, if you don’t give yourself up. You wouldn’t want that. I believe you about Helen, the others will, too, when they calm down. Everything will be all right.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, Dick, on my word of honor.” His eyes widened. His face looked like it was carved out of a piece of white marble.
“Give me the gun.”
He did not answer or move. The seconds slowly ticked by. He shook his head as if to clear it. Finally, when he spoke, he sounded like a stranger.
“I can’t leave my post, there’s snipers trying to pick us off.”
“What! Dick,” she raised her voice. “It’s me, Laurie, you’re home in Australia, not on Gallipoli.”
“Home?” His face crumpled. He started crying, and it was truly terrible to hear. The gun fell to the ground as he lurched forward. She held him in the circle of her arms, while he cried like a baby.
The police closed in, and she stood weeping softly as they dragged him away.
Chapter Thirteen
The Courthouse was packed as Laurie and the McKinlays made their way towards the front. Blair, already seated, greeted them all with a brief nod.
An audible buzz passed through the crowd as a pale, distraught Dick was escorted in by two guards. He looked so tragically young, and Laurie, darting a glance at the jury, wondered what they were thinking. Would they be merciful, or had the newspaper stories poisoned their minds against him?
The first to give evidence was one of the policemen Blair had summoned to Coolibah. She listened, feeling more and more nauseated as they described their findings. The doctor’s report gave her the shudders.
He described Helen’s injuries so graphically that vomit rose up in Laurie’s throat. Mutterings from the packed court attested to everyone else’s shock, as well. When he said Helen had been raped, there were audible gasps.
Blair, looking tired and drawn, gave evidence next. His face seemed much too thin, but he answered clearly and decisively, almost emotionlessly. “I found my wife lying on the ground bleeding profusely. I saw Dick McKinlay running away. Only the telltale pulse jerking at the side of his throat showed his innermost feelings. “My wife said Dick had done it.”
Laurie, gritting her teeth to stop herself from screaming out loud, closed her eyes in a futile endeavor to block out the horror. Blair’s words had given Dick to the hangman.
“Exactly what did your wife say, Captain Sinclair? Couldn’t you have misunderstood?” Laurie opened her eyes and focused her wavering vision on Dick’s lawyer. “Her words exactly, please.”
“When I found my wife lying on the back verandah, I said. ‘Who did this to you?’ She mumbled, ‘Dick McKinlay.’”
“Nothing else?”
“No, just his name.”
“Was anyone else at the homestead at the time?”
“No, only my wife. I came back to check on Helen, as she didn’t like being left on her own. Our housekeeper was spending the day with a sick relative, and all the men were out working.”
“Are you sure of what your wife said? You couldn’t have misunderstood? Think carefully. This boy’s life is hanging in the balance.”
“Yes, I’m sure. She said his name, and nothing else.” Blair’s voice sounded flat and emotionless.
A thin, ferret-faced man who had been writing in a large, dog-eared notebook got called upon to give evidence next. Laurie listened to a loud buzz from the crowd. It sounded like a swarm of angry bees had escaped from their hive.
The prosecution’s witness turned out to be Harry Whittaker, the despicable journalist who had written such vile things about Dick in the daily paper.
Laurie’s blood ran cold as he started speaking. He told the now hushed court he had been doing some investigating for his newspaper. “I discovered that Richard McKinlay was dishonorably discharged from the Army.”
“No. No,” Dick’s mother cried out. “He was medically discharged. My boy got wounded in action. His heart was strained.” She started screaming and weeping and had to be escorted outside.
On and on Whittaker went, damning Dick further with every word. Laurie hated him. For the first time in her life she hated and loathed another human being, but he could hardly be called human. Vilifying a poor, sick boy, with evidence comprised of distortions and downright lies.
She glanced at Dick. His eyes were glazed over with fear, his face bleached white except for a bluish tinge around his lips.
She now faced the biggest dilemma of her life. You have to testify. It’s the only way to save Dick from the hangman’s noose. How could she live with herself if she sacrificed Dick’s life merely to save her good name?
“There was an unsavory incident in Egypt involving the accused and an army officer,” Whittaker said.
“He made me do it. He made me do it.” Dick leapt towards the witness box and it took two guards to restrain him.
“Drunkenness, unruly behavior, associating with unsavory women,” Whittaker went on salaciously.
Dick’s lawyer got up to cross-examine the witness.
“What is the connection between these alleged incidents and the mental state of my client at the time of the murder?”
“Well, in my opinion…”
The lawyer interrupted Whittaker’s ravings. “This is hearsay evidence, your honor.”
“I’ll allow it,” the judge said, “but get to the point.”
“Well, Mrs. Sinclair was an extremely beautiful woman. Given his history, I think the accused fell in love with her. When she refused his advances, he lost his head and raped her. He killed her so she wouldn’
t put him in to the law.”
Laurie jumped up. “It’s not true! Dick disliked her, but he couldn’t, I mean, he wouldn’t…”
“Mrs. McKinlay, please sit down,” the judge ordered.
“He’s lying.”
“We’ll take a ten-minute break so you can compose yourself, Mrs. McKinlay.”
The jury believed Whittaker’s lies. She read it in their faces, heard it in their angry muttering and shocked gasps.
During the break Laurie rushed over to Dick’s lawyer. “Why didn’t you deny all the evil lies that creature told? The judge shouldn’t have let him say such things. Whittaker only wants a big story so he can sell more newspapers.”
“The judge exercised his discretion and allowed Whittaker to have his say. Unless you’re prepared to take the stand, I’m afraid there’s little else I can do. Blair Sinclair saw your husband running away from the crime scene. With her dying breath Helen Sinclair accused him. He was covered with blood when apprehended. All we can hope for is leniency because of his state of mind.”
“He’d be better off dead than locked away in some insane asylum. He’s innocent. I’ve already told you he couldn’t rape anyone.”
“Mrs. McKinlay, Helen Sinclair was raped. Both the doctor and police attested to it.”
“I know, but if we can make the jury believe it was impossible for Dick to rape her, wouldn’t they believe his story about her already being dead?” Laurie shuddered. “Or so near death he thought she was?”
“Yes, but you know what it means if you tell the court about the true state of your marriage. You’ll be ostracized. The press will crucify you.”
“I know.” She held her head in her hands and closed her eyes, to blot out the ugly pictures forming in her mind. People would call her a despicable, scheming harlot and would avoid her like the plague. No decent person would want to associate with her ever again, but she couldn’t let them hang Dick, not when her testimony could save him. Oh, God, help me, she prayed desperately. Give me the strength to do what’s right.
By the time Laurie got called to the stand, the courthouse was stifling hot. Her hand shook as it rested on the Bible while she took the oath. The Prosecution lawyer went easy on her for a few moments, asking her name, where she came from, and how long she had known Dick. Then it came with the force of a battering ram.
“Was your husband having an affair with Mrs. Sinclair?”
“No, definitely not,” she answered emphatically. She didn’t know how she got the strength, but her gaze never wavered as she stared into the prosecutor’s face.
“How can you be so sure? Mrs. Sinclair was a beautiful woman.”
“Dick isn’t like that.”
“I’d like to remind you, Mrs. McKinlay, you’re under oath.”
“He wouldn’t have an affair with her; he didn’t even like her.” Perspiration drenched her back, causing her blouse to cling uncomfortably. She suddenly felt the baby kick her under the ribs, as if to warn her that what she said here today would affect it, too.
“Why do you say that, when we’ve presented such damning evidence?”
“Dick wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Why do you think he killed Mrs. Sinclair?”
“He didn’t kill her. He didn’t do anything to her.”
“The army doctors have testified that physically the only thing wrong with him was disorderly action of his heart. He was mentally unstable when he came back from the war, but after a few months he received no medical treatment at all. It would be reasonable to assume his condition had stabilized.”
“He wasn’t better. He was only seventeen. At Lone Pine he got buried for days under piles of bodies, and other soldiers ran all over him. He couldn’t get out by himself, and there was no one left alive to help, in the end.”
The Court was silent now, except for the buzzing of several fat blowflies.
“He never told anyone else this.” Laurie trembled so badly she could almost hear her teeth rattle. “He said he could feel the blood on his face. It felt warm and sticky and wouldn’t wash off, no matter how hard he tried. After he returned home, his face always felt sticky, even after he washed it. Dick is ill, not bad. He wouldn’t kill anyone, not on purpose. He hated violence and death, because he’d seen too much of it.”
“That’s not really the point, Mrs. McKinlay. We can put him at the scene and with her dying breath Mrs. Sinclair accused him.”
“He didn’t rape her. He didn’t.” She put her hand over her heart. “I swear it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He isn’t like that.”
“Come now. Mrs. Sinclair was an extremely beautiful woman. Why wouldn’t he desire her? I’m putting it to you that this was a crime of passion. He raped her, and then killed her to avoid detection.”
“Dick wouldn’t rape anyone. He isn’t like other men.”
“No! no!” Dick screamed. “Don’t tell them, Laurie. Don’t!” The guards had to forcibly restrain him from jumping out of his chair.
“He, he…” She swallowed a couple of times. He…”
“No, Laurie, don’t!” She stared into Dick’s stricken face as he pleaded with her to keep his secret.
“If I don’t tell them, they’ll hang you.”
“You’re under oath, Mrs. McKinlay,” the prosecutor warned. “There are severe penalties for perjury, you know. I don’t wish to pressure you, not in your delicate condition. I’m asking you again. In what way isn’t your husband like other men?”
Laurie looked at the lawyer, her eyes full of pain. Was that pity flickering in his eyes? He leaned forward. “Now, my dear.”
“He couldn’t.” She glanced at a pale, ghost-like Dick. The only vestige of color came from a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead, and his tormented blue eyes.
“He couldn’t have a relationship with a woman. He, he’s incapable of it.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the courtroom.
“Laurie, Laurie.” Dick sobbed and pleaded.
“You mean he’s impotent?” the prosecutor said.
“Yes.” She felt as though she were bleeding to death inside.
“Mrs. McKinlay, do you expect the jury to believe that, when your, er, delicate condition, is quite obvious?”
“It, it…” She placed trembling hands protectively over her swollen stomach. “It isn’t Dick’s baby.”
Momentarily, there was a deathly silence, followed by a loud buzz. Laurie lifted her head, and through a mist of tears saw Blair’s face contort before losing all its color. The pulse in his jaw jerked and twisted frantically. He closed his eyes then held his head in his hands, while George McKinlay shrank farther into his seat.
Laurie started crying, the tears rolled down her cheeks so fast her handkerchief could not soak them up. And Dick was shattered.
“Thank you for your testimony, Mrs. McKinlay. You can be excused now.”
The rest of the case passed in a daze. Laurie, feeling as if she had endured a flogging, sat with lowered head. She had bared her soul in public, and life would never be the same again.
The jury retired to consider the evidence, and she let Dick’s lawyer escort her to her hotel room. “I’ll let you know as soon as the jury reaches a verdict. “I’m afraid you’re going to receive a lot of newspaper attention, Mrs. McKinlay. I’d be inclined to bolt the door. There’s sure to be a swarm of reporters here soon. It was a courageous thing you did for Dick. I hope he appreciates it.”
When he left, she locked the door and lay on the bed, going over everything in her mind. Would Dick get off? If he did, would he forgive her for telling the world he wasn’t really a man?
“You are, Dick,” she whispered fiercely. “You are a man. It isn’t your fault the war did these dreadful things to you.”
Sleep proved impossible. What would her father think when it became public knowledge that his daughter had deliberately married one man while carrying another man’s child? What about
Blair? The expression on his face was enough. He knew he was the father of her baby.
If Dick hadn’t killed Helen, who did? A disgruntled, rejected suitor, perhaps? She spent most of her time away from Coolibah. If only the police could apprehend the culprit, they might all find a little peace.
Sheer exhaustion from days without proper rest finally took its toll and she drifted into a troubled sleep. Frantic hammering on the door woke her up, and groggily she opened her eyes and struggled off the bed.
“Mrs. McKinlay, it’s the police.”
The jury must have reached a verdict. Her hands shook so much she had trouble unlocking the door. “Have they reached a decision yet?” she asked fearfully.
“No.”
Bewildered, she stared at the policeman. “What then?”
“Mrs. McKinlay.” He looked pale and strained. “We’re sorry to inform you…”
“What’s happened? Is Dick all right?”
“He’s dead.”
“Dead?” A savage roar almost ruptured her eardrums. A black curtain dropped down over her eyes. “How?” she asked in a voice that she didn’t recognize. She clung to the door so she wouldn’t topple over.
“Is there someone we could get to stay with you?”
“No, only the McKinlays.”
“We’ve already spoken to them. Mrs. McKinlay has collapsed, so her husband is attending to her. We found your husband dead in his cell. It appears his heart gave out. We’re very sorry.”
“Sorry!” It’s all your fault she wanted to scream the words at them. But they had only done their job, and the evidence had been overwhelming. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t even cry. She had no tears left to shed.
The case was closed, as far as the law was concerned, unless new evidence surfaced. For Laurie and the McKinlays, a raw, gaping wound had been left wide open.
They departed for home, Laurie staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the crowds milling about them. She was the villain of the piece, with Blair the grieving husband, Helen the unfortunate victim, and Dick the poor husband whose heart gave out with the shock of learning his wife carried another man’s child.
“We won’t forget what you tried to do for Dick,” George said in a quivering voice. “It took real guts for you to speak out like you did.” He patted her hand. “You sacrificed your good name for nothing, I’m afraid. Our boy is still dead.
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