The Queen v. Karl Mullen (32 page)

De Morgan had been studying the witness list. He said to Bull, “Harold Ratter, Mavis Widdicombe – she’ll be the girl from the limited editions department – and Sebastian Lucius Snow – presumably the manager. We’re not disputing what took place in the bookshop, so we can leave the first two alone, but you could heckle Snow. If it does nothing else, it’ll strengthen the idea that we’re relying on prejudice – which may take their eyes off the ball.”

Accordingly, the stout detective and the nervous Miss Widdicombe came and departed unquestioned. To Mr. Snow, when he had given his evidence, Martin Bull said, “I imagine that you have experienced a good many cases of shop-lifting in your well-known shop?”

“Alas, yes. In the ten years that I have been in charge, no fewer than twenty-nine such cases.”

“Then you must have devised what one might call a standard procedure for dealing with them?”

“Indeed, yes. If the delinquent is very young I can usually frighten him enough to make it unlikely that he will try it again. If he is a more hardened character I obtain his name and address and warn him that he will receive a summons.”

“But in this case, although you had incontrovertible evidence of his identity, you had the accused marched off to the police station. In what way was this accused different from the other twenty-eight?”

Mr. Snow took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and said, “He was a South African policeman. I considered that the experience would be good for him.”

“A useful experience of British impartiality?” suggested the judge.

Mr. Snow looked baffled, but managed to say ‘yes’ before turning round for further questions. But Bull had sat down.

Whilst this was going on Anna and Dorothy Katanga had appeared at the door leading into the Court from the witness room. Before the Attorney General could speak de Morgan rose and said, “I understand from the list I have been given that Miss Macheli—” he nodded at the girl—”will be giving evidence next. Might I therefore ask that Mrs. Katanga, who will be following her, leaves the Court?”

“Yes,” said the judge.

Dorothy was led out and Anna entered the witness-box looking, thought Roger, exactly like a small girl who had been taken to a party by her mother and deserted.

“Your name,” said the Attorney General, “appears in these proceedings as Anna Macheli. It is, in fact, Anna Masai, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am not taking the point against you. We all understand that you have, for many years, regarded yourself as the adopted daughter of Professor Macheli.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you first came over here, the Professor – this was in connection with his residence permit – showed you as his daughter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A small irregularity which certain officials of the South African government unearthed and which they threatened to report, unless you were willing to help them. In particular, they used you to ferret out all possible details of Jack Katanga’s life. Including the earlier accident – it happened before your time, of course – and the use of the bougie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. I wanted the jury to understand that.”

They understood it, all right, thought Roger. And they didn’t like it much.

“Might we return then to what I will call the fatal Thursday? The accused telephoned your house. You remember? Yes. What I want to be quite clear about is what you said to him.”

“I told him that Mr. and Mrs. Katanga were out and wouldn’t be back until around midday.”

“Midday. Not eleven thirty or midday?”

“No, sir. Midday.”

“So when the accused arrived, you had to show him into the drawing-room and leave him there. Now we have been told that the partition between the kitchen and the drawing-room is very thin. Was it thin enough for you to hear the accused if he moved about?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For instance, you would, I suppose, have heard if—”

De Morgan was starting to get up, but it was the judge who intervened.

“I don’t think you should put words into the witness’s mouth.”

Anna said, suddenly and loudly, “I wasn’t listening all that much. I was getting lunch.”

“Very well,” said the Attorney General sourly. “Tell us what happened next.”

“Mr. Katanga came back. He must have seen the car outside because he went straight to the drawing-room. Then Mrs. Katanga came back. She was in the kitchen with me. We could hear them arguing next door. They were almost shouting.”

“Then you can tell us what the accused said.”

“He was saying that Mr. Katanga’s mother and his sisters had been arrested and unless Mr. Katanga changed what he was going to say, about the bookshop, they’d be questioned. The way he said it, it sounded like – tortured.”

The Attorney General waited for nearly half a minute, making a pretence of examining his brief. He was well aware of the effect the last answer had made on the jury.

“And what did Mr. Katanga say?”

“He said, ‘Do what you like and be damned with you.’ And I could hear the scrape of his chair as he got up, so I guessed the interview was over and went to open the front door. They came out and went down the path, stopping to argue, and then Mr. Mullen got into his car and drove off and Mr. Katanga came back.”

“That’s very clear. Thank you.”

“Miss Macheli,” said de Morgan, speaking so quietly that the witness had to lean forward to hear him. “You were two years in that house at Putney, helping the Katangas. I believe that Mrs. Katanga was often out in the morning, shopping, in the West End, whilst Mr. Katanga stayed behind to get on with his literary work. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So that you were alone in the house with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“On some such occasions, did he try to take advantage of you?”

Anna stared at him, her eyes wide open. Then she said, “I don’t understand you.”

De Morgan, speaking now quite sharply, said, “I will put it in any way you like. Did he try to seduce you?”

The gallery was starting to murmur. They didn’t like this line of questioning. The judge sat like a graven image.

Anna, at last, said, “No—no.” She had something else she wanted to say. It came almost in a whisper. “He was a gentleman.”

“Very well,” said de Morgan. “We’ll leave it there. Tell me, have you ever seen this before?”

He had in his hand the tin of Paradol.

“No,” said Anna. “I’m sure I haven’t seen anything like that.” She was so relieved at the change of topic that she spoke easily and clearly.

Good technique, thought Roger. First upset her, then ask her an innocent-seeming question.

“Or like this?” He had produced a squat black plastic bottle. “I shall be identifying this shortly, my Lord. It is a garden weedkiller, called Killblane.”

“Yes, I think so. I’m not quite sure. I think I’ve seen something like that. In the tool shed.”

“The shed we have been told was at the end of the patio?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. This will be S.B.1, my Lord.”

Wyvil was looking at the witness list which the defence had produced. S.B. must be the mysterious Sophie Burnett.

“Almost finished, Miss Macheli. Just one thing more. You stood at the door and watched the two men going down the path, stopping to argue and then going on and the accused driving off and Mr. Katanga coming back. How long did all this take – roughly?”

“Well, it might have been five minutes – or a little more.”

“Thank you.”

It was nearly four o’clock when Dorothy followed Anna onto the witness stand. The dusk of a January evening had been closing in on the Court and now the additional lights came on.

“Mrs. Katanga,” said the Attorney General, “I will trouble you as little as possible.”

Roger was staring at Dorothy, fascinated and horrified. He thought he had never seen such a frightening change in a woman. In the weeks since he had observed her at the inquest she seemed to have aged ten years. Her eyes were haunted and the deep pits under them seemed to tighten the whole face against the bones of the skull.

“First a question about the visit which the accused paid you on that Thursday. When had you told your girl that you would be back?”

“Around midday.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Yes. I always liked to get back from the shops about midday. That gave me time to see about the lunch.”

“I quite follow. When you did get back and were with Anna in the kitchen, did you overhear what passed between your husband and the accused?”

“You mean the threat he made about my mother-in-law and her children? Yes. I heard that. And I heard my husband refuse to withdraw his evidence.”

“We have been told about that. But I am glad of your confirmation. There are a few further points of timing in which you can help us. Your husband had finished seeing off the accused by when?”

“It would have been about a quarter to one when he came back into the house.”

“And he refused to join you at lunch – when would that have been?”

“Perhaps half an hour later. Or a bit more.”

“And the first indication of trouble – choking and so on—?”

“About a quarter of an hour after that.”

“Your husband had, I believe, recently taken to using the bougie every day?”

“Yes. Every day at around one o’clock.”

“That’s very clear. Thank you. I have no further questions.”

“Mrs. Katanga,” said de Morgan, “I, too, will be as quick as I can, but I have more ground to cover than my learned friend. Would you first think back to the time when your father deserted you. Would it be right to say that your husband’s family – his mother and his sisters – rallied round you?”

“They were kind to me.”

“I believe that you wrote more than once to your father – when you finally managed to secure his address in England.”

“Yes. I can remember writing – yes.”

“And in those letters you spoke
very
warmly indeed of Mrs. Katanga. You referred to her as being a second mother to you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t remember details like that.”

“Well, the letters will be produced in due course. For the moment, might I say that you had a very warm place in your heart for those three women?”

“Yes. You could say so.”

“Then what were your feelings on that Thursday, when you learned that your husband was prepared to allow them to be tortured?”

After a pause the witness muttered something. The judge leaned forward and said, “I’m afraid I missed that.”

“She said, my Lord, that she was upset.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell me, Mrs. Katanga, why did you leave Hammersmith?”

Shock tactics again, thought Roger.

“Why—? It would be because we were offered a better house.”

“Was that the only reason? Was it not also because your neighbours were starting to spread unpleasant rumours about you and your husband?”

“I don’t understand you. Rumours? What rumours?”

“Suggestions, for instance, that when the first unfortunate accident with the disinfectant took place, you were in no hurry to summon assistance.”

“Oh! Oh! It’s not true.”

“In fact, that you deliberately delayed summoning the doctor.”

“I had trouble with the car. It wouldn’t start.”

“And what was wrong with the telephone?”

A pause. And then – “There might have been no one at the surgery.”

“At eleven o’clock in the morning?”

The public gallery was beginning to boil and the Attorney General was on his feet. He said, in tones of outrage, “Unless my friend intends to produce some evidence of what he is putting to this witness—”

“Such is my intention,” said de Morgan stonily. He was looking neither at the jury nor the judge, but at a point just above the witness’s head. He stood, in silence, until the Attorney General had subsided and the Court was quiet. Then he said, “There was another rumour, was there not? That on certain occasions your husband behaved brutally to you?”

“If there was such a rumour,” said Dorothy slowly, “I know of no foundation for it.”

“I shall be doing my best to supply that foundation in due course. One last question, then. After leaving Hammersmith and during the time you have been living in Putney, did you and your husband sleep in separate rooms?”

This was too much for the gallery and any reply Dorothy may have made was drowned in a roar of protest. In the well of the Court no one moved until the shouting faltered and died. Then the judge said, “I was, in any event, about to rise. Before I do so, let me give you a warning. If, tomorrow, there is the slightest repetition of that disgraceful behaviour, the Court will be cleared.”

“We had the gallery pretty well packed,” said Boyo Sesolo. “Tomorrow we should be able to do even better. We’ve taken the head of the queue already and a little bit of money or muscle should get us all the other places.”

“Good,” said Hartshorn. “And outside?”

“It’s under control. We’ve enough people to block the Old Bailey and Newgate Street. And if they divert into Giltspur Street or Snow Hill we can hold these two. They can’t run us down. We’re well supplied with metal jacks that’ll blow their tyres. Probably overturn the vehicle if they came too fast. And if
that
happens, the crowd won’t interfere. Nine-tenths of them are on our side. If that bastard gets less than a full life sentence, he’ll be a badly damaged man before he gets to prison, I promise you that.”

Oddly enough, the person who had the most reason to be triumphant was the most worried. After the meeting Rosemary said to Mkeba, “I’ve been in this from the start. And it’s been a long trail, with a lot of twists and turns. Now that we’re in sight of the end don’t you think, Andrew, really, that we might leave Mullen to the law?”

“Personally, I’d like to. But we daren’t. All eyes in South Africa are on us. We
must
demonstrate what the people of England think of a sadistic crook.” When Rosemary said nothing, he added, “We’re winning. Sure, we’re winning. But we haven’t won yet.”

Martin Bull said, “We shan’t get a very good press tomorrow, I guess.”

He, John Benson and Roger were in de Morgan’s room, to which they had fought their way, helped by a strong posse of police. The former Attorney General seemed unworried.