Next of Kin (54 page)

Montignac scrunched up his face as if trying to recall. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘He mentioned that I had said there was the possibility of employment with the gallery and whether I had been serious about it.'

‘And had you?'

‘Well, sort of,' said Montignac. ‘It's the kind of thing one says without expecting to be taken up on it. It's rather like inviting someone to your house for Christmas; you don't actually expect that they'll say yes but you feel rather good about yourself for extending the invitation in the first place.'

Some of the jury members laughed at that and even the judge and Sir Quentin allowed themselves a smile.

‘Indeed,' said Harkman, who was pleased with how his witness was carrying himself. He could see that the jury liked him very much. His stance, his youthful handsomeness, that startling crop of white hair, only endeared him to them while little jokes like this made them trust him.

‘But you did in fact offer him a position?' continued Harkman.

‘I did, yes.'

‘And what was that position?'

‘Well it was a sort of jack-of-all-trades job,' said Montignac. ‘He didn't know much about art but I have an assistant who … well it's difficult to say to be honest.'

‘I'll have to press you, Mr Montignac.'

‘Well my assistant isn't always as reliable as I would wish him to be. Timekeeping, professionalism, that sort of thing. I rather thought that in time I might replace him with the defendant, teach him the ropes and so on. I had a notion at the back of my mind about speaking to Mrs Conliffe regarding the possibility of opening a second gallery for more traditional fare and thought that Gareth could help me in that.'

‘You offered him a lot of opportunities, didn't you, Mr Montignac?'

‘I suppose I did, yes.'

‘Now if I may turn to the night of August the eighteenth. You and the defendant went to the Bullirag pub in Piccadilly Circus for dinner after work, is that correct?'

‘Yes,' said Montignac.

‘And the defendant drank an awful lot that night.'

Montignac did his best to look uncomfortable in the witness box and threw an apologetic glance towards the dock.

‘Mr Montignac,' repeated Harkman. ‘If you can just let us know what happened on the evening in question.'

‘I was rather hungry,' said Montignac who needed no more prompting, ‘but Gareth seemed more interested in drinking. He was getting through quite a lot but to be honest I didn't think much of it. I'm not a heavy drinker myself but I have friends who enjoy such things and it doesn't seem to have much effect on them so I assumed Mr Bentley would be fine too.'

‘Quite so, but the effect it had on him…?'

‘Was extreme. He started to slur his words, to shout quite loudly, he became quite aggressive in fact.'

‘Aggressive?'

‘Well the barman asked me to quieten him down and when I asked him to, Gareth seemed to get quite angry.'

Without meaning to, his eyes glanced in the direction of the dock where Gareth sat with an expression of confusion mingled with regret at his lack of memories of the night.

‘And how did this anger manifest itself?'

‘In words, at first. And then he said that if I wanted him to quieten down why didn't I come over there and make him.'

‘I see. He threatened you, in other words?'

‘I think that might be overstating the case a little,' said Montignac with a smile.

‘But you felt intimidated by him?'

He considered this. ‘I felt that it was best for our future relationship if I put a stop to the evening's festivities. However, knowing the difficulties he was facing at home I thought it would be best if I let him sleep it off at my flat. It's the kind of thing one does for one's friends, you know.'

‘Of course.'

‘So I called a taxicab and put him into it, despite his protests, and then I contacted some friends and went to see them for the evening. My intention was to return home later and sleep on the sofa but, to my eternal regret, I stayed over at my friends' house.'

‘And, Your Honour, we have provided you with affidavits to confirm Mr Montignac's residence that night,' said Harkman, referring to the documents that Lord Keaton had purchased.

‘Very good,' said the judge.

‘And the next thing you knew about the defendant?' asked Harkman.

‘Was when the police came to see me at the gallery the following afternoon and told me what had happened.'

‘I see. Thank you, Mr Montignac. No more questions for now, Your Honour.'

Montignac nodded at him and took a sip of water, bracing himself for what was to come, Sir Quentin's cross-examination.

2

SIR QUENTIN LAWRENCE ROSE
to his feet and looked across at Montignac with a vague expression of surprise on his face, as if his evidence so far had been so irrelevant that he had barely noticed him standing in the witness box until now.

‘You say that you've always made your own way in the world, Mr Montignac?'

‘That's right,' he replied.

‘Is that an entirely accurate statement?'

Montignac smiled. ‘I believe it is,' he said.

‘I only ask because your surname is quite familiar to me. You are a member of the Montignac landowning family, are you not? Quite a wealthy family, if memory serves.'

‘My grandfather was William Montignac,' he replied. ‘Who inherited the estate from his ancestors, that's correct. After his death it passed to my late uncle, Peter Montignac. And when he died earlier this year it passed in turn to his daughter, Stella.'

‘But not to you?'

‘No.'

‘But you were supported by Peter Montignac during his lifetime, is that right?'

Montignac bristled at the word. ‘He paid for my education,' he said. ‘As most parents do for their children. But I went to work as soon as I left Cambridge. And I was not remembered in his will.'

‘Most parents, yes,' said Sir Quentin. ‘But he wasn't your parent, was he?'

‘No, he was my uncle.'

Harkman stood up slowly to protest. ‘My Lord, does this have any relevance? The witness's family history is hardly pertinent to this case.'

‘Yes, I'm not sure where you're going with this, Sir Quentin,' said Judge Sharpwell.

Sir Quentin frowned and changed tack.

‘Mr Montignac, you say that you hired Mr Bentley for a position in your gallery after meeting him on a night out with friends.'

‘That's correct, yes.'

‘Do you always hire employees when knowing so little about them?'

Montignac hesitated. ‘He was introduced to me by a friend of many years' standing. I assumed that if he vouched for him, then I could trust him.'

‘And how many applicants for the job had you already turned down at the time?'

‘Applicants?' asked Montignac in confusion.

‘Yes,' said Sir Quentin. ‘For the position you offered my client. How many applicants had you already interviewed and rejected?'

‘Well, none,' he replied cautiously. ‘It wasn't an advertised position as such.'

‘I see. So a young man you don't know approaches you outside a nightclub where you've just met, informs you that he is looking for work and you simply take him on without a second thought. Does your employer approve of such hiring practices?'

‘My employer is perfectly happy for me to make the decisions regarding staffing. That's why she made me manager.'

‘I'm sorry, Mr Montignac,' said Sir Quentin. ‘I'm still confused. I can't quite see why you would take someone on for an important position when you don't even know him.'

‘Well because he was a very personable young man,' said Montignac, trying to cover his frustration. ‘He struck me as intelligent, friendly and with an eagerness to learn. The kind who might do very well in our business.'

‘Yes indeed,' said Sir Quentin. ‘Intelligent, friendly and eager. I see. Now if I may, let me move on to the night of the incident.'

‘The murder,' said Harkman, rising to his feet. ‘Your Honour, let us at least call things by what they are.'

‘Sustained,' grunted Judge Sharpwell.

‘The night of the murder then,' said Sir Quentin, correcting himself. ‘How many drinks did you say Mr Bentley had that night?'

‘I couldn't say for sure,' said Montignac. ‘But I would guess somewhere around eight or nine pints of beer and perhaps half a dozen spirits.'

‘And you weren't drinking at all?'

‘I had a few, but nowhere near that amount.'

‘How many exactly?'

‘Perhaps three.'

‘And when you arrived in the pub, do you recall who bought the first round of drinks?'

‘I imagine I did,' said Montignac. ‘That would certainly be my custom if I was taking an employee out.'

‘And did my client reciprocate by buying the second round?'

‘Yes, I think so.'

‘And from then on?'

‘It's hard to recall…' said Montignac.

‘Is it? I believe the barman from the Bullirag pub can recall. Perhaps I should bring him to the stand and ask him?'

Montignac narrowed his eyes. ‘I think I bought the majority of the drinks,' he admitted.

‘Did you indeed? Any reason why that was the case? Or are you just uncommonly generous?'

‘Because I was Mr Bentley's employer. I thought it unseemly for him to be spending his wages on me.'

‘And even after he started to get more and more inebriated, and even after he became loud and attracted the attentions of the landlord, you continued to buy him drinks, did you not?'

‘I may have bought one or two but that was because he was protesting so much that I thought it simpler to humour him. I never imagined that—'

‘You got him drunk, Mr Montignac, didn't you?'

Harkman rose to his feet again. ‘Your Honour,' he cried, appalled by the line of questioning. ‘Perhaps defence counsel could specify what charges exactly are being made against the witness. He has already testified to the events in the pub that night.'

‘Yes, Sir Quentin, what are you implying exactly?'

‘I'm simply trying to establish whether my client was the type of man to enter a pub and purchase drink after drink after drink until he is in a paralytic state. And I find that he is not.'

‘Your Honour, I believe it is for the jury to find whether he is or isn't,' protested Harkman. ‘It's hardly the job of my learned friend to do so.'

‘Indeed,' said the judge, glancing at his watch as his stomach began to wonder about lunch. ‘Do you have many more questions for this witness, Sir Quentin?'

‘Just one or two more, Your Honour,' he said. ‘If I may?'

‘Carry on,' he sighed, as if the whole thing was a monstrous inconvenience.

‘Mr Montignac,' he began again with a flourish. ‘Can you describe for us the condition that Mr Bentley was in when you left the pub?'

‘Well he could barely stand up,' said Montignac. ‘He was extremely inebriated. His legs were going from under him, he was spouting a lot of gibberish. In truth, I had difficulty finding a taxicab that would take him.'

‘I see. And had Mr Bentley been to your flat before that night?'

‘No.'

‘But you gave him the address?'

‘I gave it to the taxi driver and asked him to ensure that he got in safely.'

‘Your Honour,' said Harkman, rising to his feet in frustration. ‘Mr Reeves has already testified to that.'

‘I'm almost finished, Your Honour, if I may?'

The judge nodded.

‘Mr Montignac, to move away from my client for a moment, can you tell me about the relationship you had with the deceased, Raymond Davis.'

‘I had no particular relationship, as you put it, with the victim,' said Montignac, stressing the last word.

‘None at all? You didn't know him?'

‘He was a friend of my cousin's,' he replied. ‘I only knew him through her. We weren't close ourselves.'

‘Your cousin?' he asked. ‘That would be Stella Montignac, is that right?'

‘That's right.'

‘Who inherited the Montignac estate…?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you grew up in the same house as Miss Montignac?'

‘From the time I was five, yes. After my parents' death.'

‘I see. And Mr Davis was just a friend of Miss Montignac's, was he?'

‘Yes,' he said, unwilling to acknowledge any deeper relationship between the two.

‘Weren't they engaged to be married, Mr Montignac?'

‘I believe they had discussed it, yes. I'm not sure that any firm date or plans had been set in place.'

Sir Quentin inclined his head a little, intrigued by the witness's disinclination to admit anything further between the two. He pursued this for a moment.

‘Did you like Mr Davis?'

‘Did I like him?' he asked, surprised.

‘Yes. Were you happy that he was going to marry your cousin?'

Montignac hesitated. He was quite pleased with the fact that so far he had managed to avoid perjuring himself entirely. He racked his brains to recall any conversations with others that he may have had about Raymond that could implicate him.

‘My feeling about the matter was somewhat…' He searched for the right word. ‘Fluid.'

Sir Quentin laughed. ‘I beg your pardon, Mr Montignac,' he said. ‘Did you say
fluid
?'

‘Well at first I didn't take to him,' he replied in explanation. ‘He was a perfectly pleasant fellow, of course. He was always polite and tried to ingratiate himself with the family. But I didn't think he was entirely Stella's type. I wasn't sure he could make her happy. But then after a while I became a little more ambivalent towards him and by the time of his
murder
'—he raised his voice a little with the word, lest anyone should forget the circumstances of Raymond's death—‘I suppose I thought he was a decent enough sort. I'm quite protective of my cousin, Sir Quentin,' he said with a smile, hoping to win back the jury a little, feeling that he might have lost them slightly during the cross-examination.