The New Collected Short Stories (2 page)

BOOK: The New Collected Short Stories
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‘You are, Sir Toby,’ said Harry.

‘A post you have held for the past eleven years, despite the fact that several universities around the world have made you lucrative offers to leave your beloved Yorkshire and join
them?’

At this point Mr Justice Fenton, who had also heard it all before, peered down and said, ‘I think I can say, Sir Toby, that you have established the fact that your witness is a pre-eminent
expert in his chosen field. I wonder if we could now move on and deal with the case in hand.’

‘I am only too happy to do so, m’lud, especially after your generous words. It won’t be necessary to heap any more accolades on the good professor’s shoulders.’ Sir
Toby would have loved to have told the judge that he had actually come to the end of his preliminary comments moments before he had been interrupted.

‘I will therefore, with your permission, m’lud, move on to the case before us, now that you feel I have established the credentials of this particular witness.’ He turned back
to face the professor, with whom he exchanged a knowing wink.

‘Earlier in the case,’ continued Sir Toby, ‘my learned friend Mr Rodgers set out in detail the case for the prosecution, leaving no doubt that it rested on a single piece of
evidence: namely, the smoking gun that never smoked’ – an expression Harry had heard his old friend use many times in the past, and was in no doubt he would use on many more occasions
in the future.

‘I refer to the gun, covered in the defendant’s fingerprints, that was discovered near the body of his unfortunate wife, Mrs Valerie Richards. The prosecution went on to claim that
after killing his wife, the defendant panicked and ran out of the house, leaving the firearm in the middle of the room.’ Sir Toby swung round to face the jury. ‘On this one, flimsy,
piece of evidence – and flimsy I shall prove it to be – you, the jury, are being asked to convict a man for murder and place him behind bars for the rest of his life.’ He paused
to allow the jury to take in the significance of his words.

‘So, now I return to you, Professor Bamford, and ask you as a pre-eminent expert in your field – to use m’lud’s description of your status – a series of
questions.’ Harry realised the preamble was finally over, and that he would now be expected to live up to his reputation.

‘Let me start by asking you, Professor, is it your experience that after a murderer has shot his victim, he or she is likely to leave the murder weapon at the scene of the
crime?’

‘No, Sir Toby, it is most unusual,’ replied Harry. ‘In nine cases out of ten where a handgun is involved, the weapon is never recovered, because the murderer makes sure that he
or she disposes of the evidence.’

‘Quite so,’ said Sir Toby. ‘And in the one case out of ten where the gun is recovered, is it common to find fingerprints all over the murder weapon?’

‘Almost unknown,’ replied Harry. ‘Unless the murderer is a complete fool, or is actually caught in the act.’

‘The defendant may be many things,’ said Sir Toby, ‘but he is clearly not a fool. Like you, he was educated at Leeds Grammar School; and he was arrested not at the scene of the
crime, but in the home of a friend on the other side of the city.’ Sir Toby omitted to add, as prosecuting counsel had pointed out several times in his opening statement, that the defendant
was discovered in bed with his mistress, who turned out to be the only alibi he had.

‘Now, I’d like to turn to the gun itself, Professor. A Smith and Wesson K4217 B.’

‘It was actually a K4127 B,’ said Harry, correcting his old friend.

‘I bow to your superior knowledge,’ said Sir Toby, pleased with the effect his little mistake had made on the jury. ‘Now, returning to the handgun. The Home Office laboratory
found the murder victim’s fingerprints on the weapon?’

‘They did, Sir Toby.’

‘And, as an expert, does this lead you to form any conclusions?’

‘Yes, it does. Mrs Richards’s prints were most prominent on the trigger and the butt of the gun, which causes me to believe that she was the last person to handle the weapon. Indeed,
the physical evidence suggests that it was she who squeezed the trigger.’

‘I see,’ said Sir Toby. ‘But couldn’t the gun have been placed in the hand of Mrs Richards by her murderer, in order to mislead the police?’

‘I would be willing to go along with that theory if the police had not also found Mr Richards’s prints on the trigger.’

‘I’m not sure I fully understand what you’re getting at, Professor,’ said Sir Toby, fully understanding.

‘In almost every case I have been involved in, the first thing a murderer does is to remove his own fingerprints from the murder weapon before he considers placing it in the hand of the
victim.’

‘I take your point. But correct me if I am wrong,’ said Sir Toby. ‘The gun was not found in the hand of the victim, but nine feet away from her body, which is where the
prosecution claims it was dropped when the defendant fled in panic from his marital home. So, let me ask you, Professor Bamford: if someone committing suicide held a gun to their temple and pulled
the trigger, where would you expect the gun to end up?’

‘Anywhere between six and ten feet from the body,’ Harry replied. ‘It’s a common mistake – often made in poorly researched films and television programmes –
for victims to be shown still holding onto the gun after they have shot themselves. Whereas what actually happens in the case of suicide is that the force of the gun’s recoil jerks it from
the victim’s grip, propelling it several feet from the body. In thirty years of dealing with suicides involving guns, I have never once known a weapon to remain in the hand of the
victim.’

‘So, in your opinion as an expert, Professor, Mrs Richards’s fingerprints and the position of the weapon would be more consistent with suicide than with murder.’

‘That is correct, Sir Toby.’

‘One final question, Professor,’ said the defence QC, tugging his lapels. ‘When you have given evidence for the defence in cases such as this in the past, what percentage of
juries have returned a not guilty verdict?’

‘Mathematics was never my strong subject, Sir Toby, but twenty-one cases out of twenty-four ended in acquittal.’

Sir Toby turned slowly to face the jury. ‘Twenty-one cases out of twenty-four,’ he said, ‘ended in acquittal after you were called as an expert witness. I think that’s
around 85 per cent, m’lud. No more questions.’

Toby caught up with Harry on the courtroom steps. He slapped his old friend on the back. ‘You played another blinder, Harry. I’m not surprised the Crown caved in after you’d
given your evidence – I’ve never seen you in better form. Got to rush, I’ve a case starting at the Bailey tomorrow, so I’ll see you at the first hole, ten o’clock on
Saturday. That is, if Valerie will allow it.’

‘You’ll be seeing me long before then,’ murmured the Professor, as Sir Toby jumped into a taxi.

Sir Toby glanced through his notes as he waited for the first witness. The case had begun badly. The prosecution had been able to present a stack of evidence against his client
that he was in no position to refute. He wasn’t looking forward to the cross-examination of a string of witnesses who would undoubtedly corroborate that evidence.

The judge on this occasion, Mr Justice Fairborough, nodded towards prosecuting counsel. ‘Call your first witness, Mr Lennox.’

Mr Desmond Lennox QC rose slowly from his place. ‘I am obliged, m’lud. I call Professor Harold Bamford.’

A surprised Sir Toby looked up from his notes to see his old friend heading confidently towards the witness box. The London jury looked quizzically at the man from Leeds.

Sir Toby had to admit that Mr Lennox established his expert witness’s credentials rather well – without once referring to Leeds. Mr Lennox then proceeded to take Harry through a
series of questions, which ended up making his client sound like a cross between Jack the Ripper and Dr Crippen.

Mr Lennox finally said, ‘No more questions, m’lud,’ and sat down with a smug expression on his face.

Mr Justice Fairborough looked down at Sir Toby and asked, ‘Do you have any questions for this witness?’

‘I most certainly do, m’lud,’ said Toby, rising from his place. ‘Professor Bamford,’ he said, as if it were their first encounter, ‘before I come to the case
in hand, I think it would be fair to say that my learned friend Mr Lennox made great play of establishing your credentials as an expert witness. You will have to forgive me if I revisit that
subject, and clear up one or two small details that puzzled me.’

‘Certainly, Sir Toby,’ said Harry.

‘This first degree you took at . . . er, yes, at Leeds University. What subject was it that you studied?’

‘Geography,’ said Harry.

‘How interesting. I wouldn’t have thought that was an obvious preparation for someone who would go on to become an expert in handguns. However,’ he continued, ‘allow me
to move on to your Ph.D., which was awarded by an American university. Can I ask if that degree is recognised by English universities?’

‘No, Sir Toby, but . . .’

‘Please confine yourself to answering the questions, Professor Bamford. For example, does Oxford or Cambridge University recognise your Ph.D.?’

‘No, Sir Toby.’

‘I see. And, as Mr Lennox was at pains to point out, this whole case may well rest on your credentials as an expert witness.’

Mr Justice Fairborough looked down at the defence counsel and frowned. ‘It will be up to the jury to make that decision, based on the facts presented to them, Sir Toby.’

‘I agree m’lud. I just wished to establish how much credence the members of the jury should place in the opinions of the Crown’s expert witness.’

The judge frowned again.

‘But if you feel I have made that point, m’lud, I will move on,’ said Sir Toby, turning back to face his old friend.

‘You told the jury, Professor Bamford – as an expert – that in this particular case the victim couldn’t have committed suicide, because the gun was found in his
hand.’

‘That is correct, Sir Toby. It’s a common mistake – often made in poorly researched films and television programmes – for victims to be shown still holding onto the gun
after they have shot themselves.’

‘Yes, yes, Professor Bamford. We have already been entertained by your great knowledge of television soap operas, when my learned friend was examining you. At least we’ve found
something you’re an expert in. But I should like to return to the real world. Can I be clear about one thing, Professor Bamford: you are not suggesting even for a moment, I hope, that your
evidence proves that the defendant placed the gun in her husband’s hand. If that were so, you wouldn’t be an expert, Professor Bamford, but a clairvoyant.’

‘I made no such assumption, Sir Toby.’

‘I’m grateful to have your support in that. But tell me, Professor Bamford: in your experience, have you ever come across a case in which the murderer placed the gun in the
victim’s hand, in order to try to suggest that the cause of death was suicide?’

Harry hesitated for a moment.

‘Take your time, Professor Bamford. The rest of a woman’s life may depend on your reply.’

‘I have come across such cases in the past’ – he hesitated again – ‘on three occasions.’

‘On three occasions?’ repeated Sir Toby, trying to look surprised, despite the fact that he himself had appeared in all three cases.

‘Yes, Sir Toby,’ said Harry.

‘And, in these three cases, did the jury return a verdict of not guilty?’

‘No,’ said Harry quietly.

‘No?’ repeated Sir Toby, facing the jury. ‘In how many of the cases did the jury find the defendant not guilty?’

‘In two of the cases.’

‘And what happened in the third?’ asked Sir Toby.

‘The man was convicted of murder.’

‘And sentenced . . . ?’ asked Sir Toby.

‘To life imprisonment.’

‘I think I’d like to know a little bit more about that case, Professor Bamford.’

‘Is this leading anywhere, Sir Toby?’ asked Mr Justice Fairborough, staring down at the defence counsel.

‘I suspect we are about to find out, m’lud,’ said Sir Toby, turning back to the jury, whose eyes were now fixed on the expert witness. ‘Professor Bamford, do let the
court know the details of that particular case.’

‘In that case, the Queen against Reynolds,’ said Harry, ‘Mr Reynolds served eleven years of his sentence before fresh evidence was produced to show that he couldn’t have
committed the crime. He was later pardoned.’

‘I hope you’ll forgive my next question, Professor Bamford, but a woman’s reputation, not to mention her freedom, is at stake in this courtroom.’ He paused, looked
gravely at his old friend and said, ‘Did you appear on behalf of the prosecution in that particular case?’

‘I did, Sir Toby.’

‘As an expert witness for the Crown?’

Harry nodded. ‘Yes, Sir Toby.’

‘And an innocent man was convicted for a crime that he did not commit, and ended up serving eleven years in prison?’

Harry nodded again. ‘Yes, Sir Toby.’

‘No “buts” in that particular case?’ asked Sir Toby. He waited for a reply, but Harry didn’t speak. He knew he no longer had any credibility as an expert witness in
this particular case.

‘One final question, Professor Bamford: in the other two cases, to be fair, did the juries’ verdicts support your interpretation of the evidence?’

‘They did, Sir Toby.’

‘You will recall, Professor Bamford, that the Crown made great play of the fact that in the past your evidence has been crucial in cases such as these, in fact – to quote Mr Lennox
verbatim – “the decisive factor in proving the Crown’s case”. However, we now learn that in the three cases in which a gun was found in the victim’s hand, you have a
33 per cent failure rate as an expert witness.’

Harry didn’t comment, as Sir Toby knew he wouldn’t.

‘And as a result, an innocent man spent eleven years in jail.’ Sir Toby switched his attention to the jury and said quietly, ‘Professor Bamford, let us hope that an innocent
woman isn’t about to spend the rest of her life in jail because of the opinion of an “expert witness” who manages to get it wrong 33 per cent of the time.’

BOOK: The New Collected Short Stories
12.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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