‘Or was it Mr Cartwright he wanted to sort out,’ asked Pearson, ‘and leave him in no doubt who was going to be the boss once his father retired?’
‘If Bernie had wanted to do that,’ said Beth, ‘he could have flattened him with one punch.’
‘Not if Mr Cartwright had a knife,’ responded Pearson.
‘It was Craig who had the knife, and it was Craig who stabbed Bernie.’
‘How can you be so sure, Miss Wilson, when you didn’t witness the stabbing?’
‘Because Bernie told me that’s what happened.’
‘Are you sure it was Bernie who told you, and not Danny?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘You’ll forgive the cliché, Miss Wilson, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.’
‘I am, because it’s the truth,’ said Beth.
‘Is it also true that you feared your brother was dying, Miss Wilson?’
‘Yes, he was losing so much blood I didn’t think he could survive,’ replied Beth as she began sobbing.
‘Then why didn’t you call for an ambulance, Miss Wilson?’ This had always puzzled Alex, and he wondered how she would respond. She didn’t, which allowed Pearson to add, ‘After all, your brother had been stabbed again and again, to quote you.’
‘I didn’t have a phone!’ she blurted.
‘But your fiancé did,’ Pearson reminded her, ‘because he had called your brother earlier, inviting him to join you both at the pub.’
‘But an ambulance arrived a few minutes later,’ replied Beth.
‘And we all know who phoned the emergency services, don’t we, Miss Wilson,’ said Pearson, staring at the jury.
Beth bowed her head.
‘Miss Wilson, allow me to remind you of some of the other half-truths you told my learned friend.’ Beth pursed her lips. ‘You said, “I knew we were going to be married the first day I met him.” ’
‘Yes, that’s what I said and that’s what I meant,’ said Beth defiantly.
Pearson looked down at his notes. ‘You also said that in your opinion Mr Davenport “wasn’t as good-looking as” Mr Cartwright.’
‘And he isn’t,’ said Beth.
‘And that if anything went wrong, “he always had me to back up his story”.’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Whatever that story was.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ protested Beth.
‘No, I did,’ said Pearson. ‘Because I suggest you’d say anything to protect your husband.’
‘But he isn’t my husband.’
‘But he will be, if he is acquitted.’
‘Yes, he will.’
‘How long has it been since the night your brother was murdered?’
‘Just over six months.’
‘And how often have you seen Mr Cartwright during that period?’
‘I’ve visited him every Sunday afternoon,’ said Beth proudly.
‘How long do those visits last?’
‘About two hours.’
Pearson looked up at the ceiling. ‘So you’ve spent roughly,’ he calculated, ‘fifty hours together during the past six months.’
‘I’ve never thought of it that way,’ said Beth.
‘But now you have, wouldn’t you agree that it would be quite long enough for the two of you to go over your story again and again, making sure that it was word-perfect by the time you appeared in court.’
‘No, that’s not true.’
‘Miss Wilson, when you visited Mr Cartwright in prison’ – he paused – ‘for fifty hours, did you ever discuss this case?’
Beth hesitated. ‘I suppose we must have.’
‘Of course you did,’ said Pearson. ‘Because if you didn’t, perhaps you can explain how you recall every detail of what happened that night, and every sentence delivered by anyone involved, while you can’t remember what you had for breakfast this morning.’
‘Of course I remember what happened on the night my brother was murdered, Mr Pearson. How could I ever forget? In any case, Craig and his friends would have had even more time to prepare their stories because they had no visiting hours or any restrictions on when or where they could meet.’
‘Bravo,’ said Alex, loud enough for Pearson to hear.
‘Let us return to the alley and test your memory one more time, Miss Wilson,’ said Pearson, quickly changing the subject. ‘Mr Craig and Mr Payne, having arrived in the alley in under a minute, began walking towards your brother, and without any provocation started a fight.’
‘Yes, they did,’ said Beth.
‘With two men they’d never seen before that night.’
‘Yes.’
‘And when things began to go badly, Mr Craig pulls a knife out of thin air and stabs your brother in the chest.’
‘It wasn’t out of thin air. He must have picked it up from the bar.’
‘So it wasn’t Danny who picked up the knife from the bar?’
‘No, I would have seen it, if it had been Danny.’
‘But you didn’t see Mr Craig pick up the knife from the bar?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘But you did see him, one minute later, standing at the other end of the alley.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Did he have a knife in his hand at that time?’ Pearson leant back and waited for Beth to reply.
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Then perhaps you can remember who had the knife in his hand when you ran back to join your brother.’
‘Yes, it was Danny, but he explained that he had to get hold of it when Craig was stabbing my brother.’
‘But you didn’t witness that either.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘And your fiancé was covered in blood?’
‘Of course he was,’ said Beth. ‘Danny was holding my brother in his arms.’
‘So if it was Mr Craig who stabbed your brother, he must also have been covered in blood.’
‘How could I know? He’d disappeared by then.’
‘Into thin air?’ said Pearson. ‘So how do you explain that when the police arrived a few minutes later, Mr Craig was sitting at the bar, waiting for the detective, and there was not a sign of blood anywhere.’ This time Beth didn’t have a reply. ‘And may I remind you,’ continued Pearson, ‘who it was that called for the police in the first place? Not you, Miss Wilson, but Mr Craig. A strange thing to do moments after you’ve stabbed someone, and your clothes are covered in blood.’ He paused to allow the image to settle in the jury’s mind, and waited for some time before he asked his next question.
‘Miss Wilson, was this the first time your fiancé had been involved in a knife fight and you had come to his rescue?’
‘What are you getting at?’ said Beth.
Redmayne stared at Beth, wondering if there was something she hadn’t told him.
‘Perhaps the time has come to test your remarkable memory once again,’ said Pearson.
The judge, the jury and Redmayne were now all staring at Pearson, who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to reveal his trump card.
‘Miss Wilson, do you by any chance recall what took place in the playground of the Clement Attlee comprehensive school on February twelfth 1986?’
‘But that’s nearly fifteen years ago,’ protested Beth.
‘Indeed it is, but I think it’s unlikely that you would forget a day when the man you always knew you were going to marry ended up on the front page of your local paper.’ Pearson leant back and his junior passed him a photocopy of the Bethnal Green and Bow Gazette, dated February 13th 1986. He asked the usher to hand a copy to the witness.
‘Do you also have copies for the jury?’ asked Mr Justice Sackville, as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at Pearson.
‘I do indeed, m’lord,’ Pearson replied as his junior passed across a large bundle to the court usher, who in turn handed one up to the judge before distributing a dozen copies to the jury and giving the final one to Danny, who shook hi
s head. Pearson looked surprised, and even wondered if Cartwright couldn’t read. Something he’d follow up once he had him in the witness box.
‘As you see, Miss Wilson, this is a copy of the Bethnal Green and Bow Gazette, in which there is a report of a knife fight that took place in the playground of Clement Attlee comprehensive on February twelfth 1986, after which Daniel Cartwright was questioned by the police.’
‘He was only trying to help,’ said Beth.
‘Getting to be a bit of a habit, isn’t it?’ suggested Pearson.
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Beth.
‘Mr Cartwright being involved in a knife fight, and then you saying he was “only trying to help”.’
‘But the other boy ended up in Borstal.’
‘And no doubt you hope that in this case it will be the other man who ends up in prison, rather than the person you are hoping to marry?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I’m glad we have at least established that,’ said Pearson. ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to read out to the court the third paragraph on the front page of the newspaper, the one that begins, “Beth Wilson later told the police . . .” ’
Beth looked down at the paper. ‘Beth Wilson later told the police that Danny Cartwright had not been involved in the fight, but came to the aid of a classmate and probably saved his life.’
‘Would you agree that that also sounds a little familiar, Miss Wilson?’
‘But Danny wasn’t involved in the fight.’
‘Then why was he expelled from the school?’
‘He wasn’t. He was sent home while an inquiry was carried out.’
‘In the course of which you gave a statement which cleared his name, and resulted in another boy being sent to Borstal.’ Beth once again lowered her head. ‘Let’s return to the latest knife fight, when once again you were so conveniently on hand to come to your would-be boyfriend’s rescue. Is it true,’ said Pearson, before Beth could respond, ‘that Cartwright was hoping to become the manager of Wilson’s garage when your father retired?’
‘Yes, my dad had already told Danny that he was being lined up for the job.’
‘But didn’t you later discover that your father had changed his mind and told Cartwright that he intended to put your brother in charge of the garage?’
‘Yes, I did,’ said Beth, ‘but Bernie never wanted the job in the first place. He always accepted that Danny was the natural leader.’
‘Possibly, but as it was the family business, wouldn’t it have been understandable for your brother to feel resentful at being passed over?’
‘No, Bernie never wanted to be in charge of anything.’
‘Then why did your brother say that night: “And if you think I’m going to call you guv if you take over from my old man, you can forget it”?’
‘He didn’t say if, Mr Pearson, he said when. There’s a world of difference.’
Alex Redmayne smiled.
‘Sadly, we only have your word for that, Miss Wilson, while there are three other witnesses who tell a completely different story.’
‘They’re all lying,’ said Beth, her voice rising.
‘And you’re the only one who’s telling the truth,’ responded Pearson.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Who does your father believe is telling the truth?’ asked Pearson, suddenly changing tack.
‘M’lord,’ said Alex Redmayne, jumping to his feet, ‘such evidence would not only be hearsay but also can have no bearing on the case.’
‘I agree with my learned friend,’ replied Pearson before the judge could respond. ‘But as Miss Wilson and her father live in the same house, I felt that perhaps the witness might at some time have been made aware of her father’s feelings on the subject.’
‘That may well be the case,’ said Mr Justice Sackville, ‘but it is still hearsay and I therefore rule it to be inadmissible.’ He turned to Beth and said, ‘Miss Wilson, you don’t have to answer that question.’
Beth looked up at the judge. ‘My father doesn’t believe me,’ she said in between sobs. ‘He’s still convinced Danny killed my brother.’
Suddenly everyone in the court seemed to be chattering. The judge had to call for order several times before Pearson could resume.
‘Do you want to add anything else that might assist the jury, Miss Wilson?’ asked Pearson hopefully.
‘Yes,’ replied Beth. ‘My father wasn’t there. I was.’
‘And so was your fiancé,’ interjected Pearson. ‘I suggest that what started out as just another in a long line of quarrels ended in tragedy when Cartwright fatally stabbed your brother.’
‘It was Craig who stabbed my brother.’
‘While you were at the other end of the alley, trying to hail a taxi.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Beth.
‘And when the police arrived, they found Cartwright’s clothes were covered in blood, and the only fingerprints they could identify on the knife were your fiancé’s?’
‘I have already explained how that happened,’ said Beth.
‘Then perhaps you can also explain why, when the police interviewed Mr Craig a few minutes later, there was not a single drop of blood on his spotless suit, shirt or tie.’
‘He would’ve had at least twenty minutes to run home and get changed,’ said Beth.
‘Even thirty,’ added Redmayne.
‘So you endorse the Superman theory, do you?’ said Pearson.
‘And he admitted he was in the alley,’ added Beth, ignoring the comment.
‘Yes, he did, Miss Wilson, but only after he’d heard you scream, when he left his friends in the bar to find out if you were in any danger.’
‘No, he was already in the alley when Bernie was stabbed.’
‘But stabbed by whom?’ asked Pearson.
‘Craig, Craig, Craig!’ shouted Beth. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Who managed to reach the alley in less than a minute? And then somehow found time to phone the police, return to the bar, ask his companions to leave, go home, change out of his blood-covered clothes, shower, return to the bar and still be sitting around waiting for the police to arrive? He was then able to give a coherent account of exactly what took place, one which every witness who was in the bar that night was later able to verify?’
‘But they weren’t telling the truth,’ said Beth.
‘I see,’ said Pearson. ‘So all the other witnesses were willing to lie under oath.’
‘Yes, they were all protecting him.’
‘And you’re not protecting your fiancé?’
‘No, I’m telling the truth.’
‘The truth as you see it,’ said Pearson, ‘because you didn’t actually witness what took place.’
‘I didn’t need to,’ said Beth, ‘because Bernie told me exactly what happened.’
‘Are you sure it was Bernie, and not Danny?’
‘No, it was Bernie,’ she repeated.
‘Just before he died?’
‘Yes!’ shouted Beth.
‘How convenient,’ said Pearson.
‘And once Danny is in the witness box, he’ll confirm my story.’
‘After seeing each other every Sunday for the past six months, Miss Wilson, I have no doubt he will,’ said Pearson. ‘No more questions, m’lord.’
11
‘WHAT DID YOU have for breakfast this morning?’ said Alex.
‘Not that hoary old chestnut,’ said his father, his voice booming down the phone.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I should have warned you. Pearson has only two openings when it comes to cross-examining a defence witness; as a young barrister he worked out that only the judge will have heard them before, but to any unsuspecting witness, not to mention a jury, they will always come as a complete surprise.’
‘And what’s the other one?’ asked Alex.
‘What’s the name of the street second on the left when you come out of your front
door to go to work in the morning? Few witnesses manage to answer that one correctly, as I know to my cost. And I suspect that Pearson walks the streets around the defendant’s home on the evening before he opens a cross-examination. I bet you’d find him prowling around the East End right now.’
Alex sank back in his chair. ‘Well, you did warn me not to underestimate the man.’
Sir Matthew didn’t reply immediately. When he did eventually speak, he raised a subject Alex hadn’t even considered. ‘Are you going to put Cartwright in the witness box?’
‘Of course,’ said Alex. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Because it’s the one element of surprise you have left. Pearson will be expecting Cartwright to be in the witness box for the rest of the week, but if you were to close your case tomorrow morning without any warning, he’d be on the back foot. He’s assuming that he’ll be cross-examining Cartwright some time towards the end of the week, perhaps even next week, not to be asked to sum up for the prosecution first thing tomorrow.’
‘But if Cartwright doesn’t give evidence, surely the jury will assume the worst.’
‘The law is quite clear on that point,’ replied Alex’s father. ‘The judge will spell out that it is the prerogative of the defendant to decide if he wishes to enter the witness box, and that the jury should not jump to conclusions based on that decision.’
‘But they invariably do, as you’ve warned me so many times in the past.’
‘Perhaps, but one or two of the jury will have noticed that he wasn’t able to read that article in the Bethnal Green and Bow Gazette and assume you’ve advised him not to face Pearson, especially after the grilling he gave his fiancée.’
‘Cartwright is every bit as bright as Pearson,’ said Alex. ‘He just isn’t as well educated.’
‘But you mentioned that he has a short fuse.’
‘Only when someone attacks Beth.’
‘Then you can be sure that once Cartwright’s in the witness box, Pearson will go on attacking Beth until he lights that fuse.’
‘But Cartwright doesn’t have a criminal record, he’s been in work since the day he left school, and he was about to get married to his long-term girlfriend who just happens to be pregnant.’