Minor Corruption (21 page)

“Now, Mrs. Thurgood, one more question and
then we’ll be done. This is a thank-you note but we are not told
what the five pounds was for. Did you recently require money for an
operation?”

Auleen was startled. Hesitantly she said,
“No, sir. What would give you that idea? I just had the
croupe.”

“Well. madam, in the police report – ”

Cambridge was up like a shot. “No direct
police evidence has been put on the record yet, Milord!”

“Stop right there,” the judge said, giving
Marc a long stare.

“Sorry, Milord. I have no more questions of
this witness.”

In his rebuttal, all Cambridge could do was
have the key points of Auleen’s initial testimony repeated. Marc
looked behind him, and thought he saw Robert Baldwin smile. Two
could play at Cambridge’s game.

“Milord,” Cambridge was saying, “the Crown
intends now to move on to phase two of its case and the specifics
of the rape charge. The jury has heard a lot of testimony today.
May I suggest we recess and begin phase two in the morning?”

Justice Powell, who looked far wearier than
the jury, nodded and adjourned the court until ten o’clock Tuesday
morning.

***

In chambers afterwards, the consensus was that the
day had gone as well as could be expected. The Crown had set Uncle
Seamus up as a procurer of abortions and seducer of minors, and
posited a direct link between the banknote, Seamus, Betsy and Mrs.
Trigger. But Marc had succeeded in weakening each link in this
chain. Nevertheless, the guile and dexterity of Neville Cambridge
had been fully displayed, and the rape incident was one where he
had much more ammunition – and an eye-witness.

“I went along and played the sly, subtle game
today,” Marc said. “But it will have to be a different story
tomorrow. The witnesses will not automatically have the jury’s
sympathy. I’ll have no choice but to hammer each one of them hard.
Cambridge will save Jake Broom to the end, and I want the jury to
be thinking of alternative versions and even alternative murderers
long before we get to him.”

“So, Marc, you intend to be ruthless,” Hincks
laughed, realizing how incongruous the words ‘Marc’ and ‘ruthless’
were when conjoined.

“As ruthless as I can make myself be.”

“Just be careful, Marc,” Robert said.
“Please.”

***

Marc tried to relax that evening, but couldn’t. He
had gone over his notes numerous times, and knew what his approach
to each witness would be. But Cambridge was an unpredictable and
gifted prosecutor. Beth talked Marc into playing whist with Diana
and Brodie in their spacious new parlour. But Marc couldn’t
concentrate, and finally the other three switched to cribbage.

Tuesday morning dawned bright and warm, a
continuation of the Indian summer that seemed now to mock the
sombre proceedings within the austere, regal Court House. The
side-galleries were once again full, with a crush of disappointed
citizens outside on the esplanade.

First up was Sol Clift. His testimony was, in
the onlookers’ view, a dull narrative of how five mill-hands spent
their lunch hour on the day of the alleged rape. Tall and slim, but
mumble-mouthed, he told the court what he had told Cobb about the
comings and goings during that fateful luncheon: how Betsy had
arrived at twelve with her father’s lunch, chatted briefly with
those present (Burton Thurgood, Joe Mullins, Jake Broom, Seth
Whittle and himself), and then left. He went on to say that Seth
and Burton had left early (at twelve-thirty according to the big
clock in the office) to repair the damaged sluice at the weir, that
Joe Mullins had left to go for a stroll and a smoke about five
minutes later, and that about ten to one Jake Broom had excused
himself, saying he wanted to check on a sick horse in the barn. Sol
himself, left alone, finished his lunch and returned to the mill
for his afternoon shift. All pretty dull stuff. Surely the defense
counsel would have little to say about this testimony.

Marc looked sternly across at the witness and
said bluntly, “You say you returned to work sometime after
twelve-fifty when Broom left for the barn. Did anybody see you do
so?”

Clift was startled, near panic. “I don’t know
what you mean . . . I – ”

“Was anyone in the mill when you returned to
it, sir?”

“Why, how could there be? Seth and Burton was
at the milldam, and the other men’d left the office and the
mill-buildin’.”

“So we only have your word for it that you
went straight back to work?”

Clift’s eyes widened. “Where – where else
would I go?”

“To the barn perhaps?”

Clift gasped and spluttered out, “I never
went near there!”

“Did you not tell Constable Cobb that from
where you sat in the office, you could see Betsy leave the
property?”

“I did, but – ”

“And that she did not cross the road but
rather turned to the right and headed north, where the barn
is?’

“I did see her go that way, but – ”

“And that you, and others in that office,
knew she loved horses?”

Clift was now terrified, and looked guilty of
something.

“She’d sneak out to the barn to feed ‘em
carrots, I knew that. But I’d never harm her! Never!”

“Yet you have no-one to vouch for the fact
that you – knowing Betsy was heading out towards the barn – did not
move swiftly through the mill, encounter the girl and – ”

“Milord! This is intolerable!” Cambridge was
close to losing his well-honed aplomb.

“Take it easy, Mr. Edwards. Let the witness
answer before firing further questions at him.”

“I have no more questions for the witness,
Milord,” Marc said, and sat down, with his stomach churning. For
the first time Cambridge looked across at his opponent. His
expression was unreadable. He nodded, and the dazed and miserable
Sol Clift was allowed to stumble off the stand.

Joe Mullins was next. With his short,
slicked-down red hair and shilling-sized freckles, he looked
considerably younger than his twenty-four years. Cambridge’s first
question was whether Mullins had seen Betsy turn towards the
barn.

“No, sir. I couldn’t see outside the window
from where I was sittin’.”

Having established that Mullins was not a
likely suspect (with a quick nod in Marc’s direction), Cambridge
went on to his main point: the fact that Mullins had seen Seamus
Baldwin in the ravine at twelve-thirty-five when he went there for
a smoke.

“What was the defendant doing, Mr.
Mullins?”

“Well, I’d often seen him anglin’ fer trout
down there – there’s a trout pool nearby – so I was surprised to
see he wasn’t carryin’ a pole with him.”

“He was at a fishing-hole without a fishing
rod?” Cambridge said, nicely feigning surprise.

“That’s right.”

“What was he doing there, then?”

“He was just walkin’ up and down and lookin’
up at the mill.”

“Did he see you?”

“No, I was above and off to one side a bit,
in a little grove I like to have a pipe in. If he’d’ve seen me
he’d’ve waved.”

“And did you observe him for long?”

“Oh, no. I went into my grove, sat down in
the grass, and smoked my pipe.”

“So the defendant could have left the area
immediately?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there a path that would take you from the
ravine to the barn?”

“There is. It runs along the creek and comes
out behind the barn.”

“Would anyone up by the mill be able to see
anyone using this path?”

“No, sir. He’d be completely hidden.”

“Thank you. That is all.”

Cambridge sat down and looked straight ahead.
This was devastating testimony. It placed Uncle Seamus on the mill
property with enough time and a secure route to the barn. Moreover,
he did not seem to be there for any other purpose than to commit a
heinous crime.

Marc stood up. “Mr Mullins, you told the jury
that you went to have your smoke alone, say about twelve-forty or
so?”

“Yes, sir.” Mullins did not look concerned,
certainly not frightened as Sol Clift had been.

“Before that, you observed Mr. Seamus Baldwin
in the ravine below?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Without his fishing pole?”

“That’s right. He was just kinda wanderin’ up
and down.”

“As if he might be expecting someone to come
and meet him?”

Mullins looked puzzled, but said amiably,
“Could be. He was glancin’ up and around.”

“Could his fishing pole have been lying in
the grass?”

“Well now, you could be right. I didn’t do
anythin’ more than take a peek at Mr. Baldwin and then leave him to
his privacy.”

“So the gentleman could have been there to
angle for trout?”

“I didn’t see no basket or net, though.”

“Behind a bush perhaps?”

“Could be.” Mullins was almost cheerful in
his response, and certainly agreeable. Cambridge was not looking
pleased. He would have to repair the damage.

Marc suddenly dropped his own friendly
demeanour. “Do you, sir, have anyone who could say they saw you
smoking in that favourite little grove?”

Mullins was taken aback, but not
apprehensive. “I was alone. I wanted to be.”

“At twelve-forty, eh? Could you, sir, have
gone back up to the mill, circled it on the south side and reached
the barn without being observed?”

“But why would I do that?” Mullins, still
innocent-eyed, was genuinely puzzled.

“Why indeed, sir. What happened in that barn
after twelve-forty-five is what we’re here to determine, isn’t
it?”

“Milord, Mr. Mullins is not on trial! Is Mr.
Edwards going to accuse
every
Crown witness of the
crime?”

“I agree, Mr. Cambridge. Mr Edwards, you will
forgo this line of questioning. You’ve already made your
point.”

For the first time Mullins looked shaken. His
hands were trembling as he lifted them from the railing in from of
him and turned towards Neville Cambridge.

“Your witness, counsellor,” Marc said, and
sat down. He felt like trembling himself.

As skilfully as he could, with Marc’s
lingering accusation hanging over the witness, Cambridge went back
to have Mullins repeat his earlier testimony. Whether the jury was
actually listening was a moot point.

Seth Whittle was up next. His testimony was
brief. He left the mill office at twelve-thirty in the company of
Burton Thurgood, and the two men went directly to the weir, several
hundred yards above the mill itself. He saw or heard nothing
unusual. He saw no-one about him except his employee, and neither
man left the weir until four o’clock that afternoon. He knew
nothing of any incident in the barn until Jake Bloom went to the
police two months later.

Marc declined to cross-examine the
witness.

Burton Thurgood got up and told much the same
story, except that he had slipped into the bushes to “do his
business” about two o’clock. Cambridge’s purpose in calling these
men was apparently to have the jury place them well away from the
barn at the time of the crime and to stress the fact that no
stranger had been seen lurking about the grounds.

Marc looked into the familiar bulldog face of
Betsy’s father, and said, “Mr. Thurgood, to your knowledge, did the
mill-hands in that office last August the third know about Betsy’s
love of horses?”

“They must have because she talked about it
all summer, before and after she went to work at Spadina. But I
warned her never to go to that barn – ever.” He looked imploringly
at the jury.

“Were any of the men there attracted to your
daughter?”

Thurgood’s lip curled. “’Course not! She was
a child. She only got her monthlies last spring!”

“So you were not aware that anyone might wish
to court your daughter or that she was possibly in love with
someone herself?”

“I wasn’t.” It was a grunt and little
else.

“Were you planning to buy a pony, sir?”

“What if I was?”

“Did Betsy know of this plan?”

“I told yer, yeah. It was gonna be fer her. I
was gonna have a dollar a month taken outta my pay.”

The jurors nodded their approval.

“Did she offer to have a friend,
knowledgeable in horse-trading, examine the pony?”

Thurgood looked surprised, and wary. “No, she
didn’t.”

“I am asking, sir, because in one of the
police reports Mr. Baldwin says he came to the mill to – ”

“Milord! This is outrageous! Counsel is
alluding to a document not in evidence. And the statement he was
about to read into the record was a self-serving deception by the
accused. That is precisely why we do not allow the accused to
testify.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cambridge, for explaining the
law to me,” the judge said acidly. “But you are quite right. Mr.
Edwards, this is your last warning on this score. Understood?”

Marc looked suitably chastened. “My
apologies, Milord. It won’t happen again.” And it looked more and
more as if Marc would have to call Cobb as a witness for the
defense.

Justice Powell banged his gavel on the bench.
“Court is in recess until two o’clock.”

***

While Marc could still taste part of his breakfast
at the back of his throat, as a defense attorney he could not help
being pleased with the morning’s effort. Neville Cambridge had
attempted to lay a damning context for this afternoon’s star
witness, Jake Broom. But Marc had demonstrated the critical fact
that Joe Mullins and Sol Clift each had the opportunity (time to
get to the deserted barn where they might expect to find Betsy),
the motive (the seduction or rape of a young woman they had gown to
fancy from her visits to the mill-office), and the means (their
superior physical strength as mill-hands). Since Broom’s
description of the culprit was the keystone of the prosecution’s
case, it didn’t hurt the jury to have at least two viable
alternatives to think about. Finally Marc had one or two ideas
about how to impeach Broom’s apparently unassailable testimony.