Twelve Red Herrings Part 22

"As we set sail for Athens early this evening," declared the Major, 'we ought to take the next bus to Kalafatis."

Arnold nodded, and without another word led his little band out of the shop, not even glancing towards the packages that were left behind on the counter.

When they stepped out onto the street, Arnold was relieved to find that the young man who had given him the tip-off was no longer to be seen.

They came to a halt at the bus stop, where Arnold was a littledisappointed to discover several pa.s.sengers from the ship already standing in the queue, but he persuaded himself that they would not be heading for the same destination. They waited in the hot sun for another forty minutes before a bus eventually pulled up.

When Arnold first saw the vehicle, his heart sank. "Just think of how much money we'll be saving," he said when he noticed the looks of despair on the faces of his companions.

The journey across the island to the east coast might well have taken thirty minutes had it been in a Range Rover with no reason to slow down. But as the bus driver picked up everybody he saw along the way, without regard to official stops, they eventually arrived in Kalafatis an hour and twenty minutes later. Long before they had clambered off the ancient vehicle Deirdre was exhausted, Joan was exasperated, and the Major's wife was developing a migraine.

"Bus goes no further," said the driver as Arnold and his companions filed off. "Leave for return journey to Kh6ra one hour.

Last bus of the day." The little band gazed up at the narrow, winding track that led to the potter's workplace.

"The journey was worth it for the view alone," gasped Arnold, as he came to a halt halfway along the path and gazed out over the Aegean.

His companions didn't even bother to stop and look, let alone offer anopinion. It took them another ten minutes of determined walking before they reached their destination, and by then even Arnold had fallen silent.

As the six weary tourists finally entered the pottery, what breath they had left was taken away. They stood mesmerised by shelf after shelf of beautiful objects. Arnold felt a warm glow of triumph.

Deirdre immediately went about her business, and quickly located the "Delphi' dinner service. It looked even more magnificent than she remembered, but when she checked a little label that hung from a soup tureen's handle she was horrified to discover that the cost was only a little less than it had been at The House of Ptros.

Deirdre came to a decision. She turned to face her husband, who was toying with a pipe stand, and declared in a clarion voice that all could hear, "As everything is at half price, Arnold, presumably I can go ahead and buy the "Delphi"?" The other four swung round to see how the great entrepreneur would react. Arnold seemed to hesitate for a moment before he placed the pipe stand back on the shelf and said, "Of course, my dear. Isn't that why we came all this way in the first place?" The three women immediately began selecting items from the shelves, finally gathering between them one dinner service, two tea sets, one coffee set, three vases, five ashtrays, two jugs and a toastrack. Arnold abandoned the pipe stand.

When the bill for Deirdre's purchases was presented to her husband he hesitated once again, but he was painfully aware that all five of his shipmates were glaring at him. He reluctantly cashed his remaining travellers' cheques, unwilling to bring himself even to glance at the disadvantageous exchange rate that was displayed in the window.

Deirdre made no comment. Malcolm and the Major TELVE RED HERRINGS silently signed away their own travellers' cheques, with little appearance of triumph showing on either of their faces.

The goods having been paid for, the six tourists emerged from the workshop, laden down with carrier bags. As they began to retrace their steps back down the winding track, the door of the pottery was closed behind them.

"We'll have to get a move on if we're not going to miss the last bus," shouted Arnold as he stepped into the centre of the path, avoiding a large cream Mercedes that was parked outside the workshop.

"But what a worthwhile excursion," he added as they trundled off down the track. "You have to admit, I saved you all a fortune."

Deirdre was the last to leave the shop. She paused to rearrange her numerous bags, and was surprised to see a number of the pottery's staff forming a queue at a table by the side of the shop.

A handsome young man in a grubby T-shirt and torn jeans waspresenting each of them in turn with a small brown envelope.

Deirdre couldn't take her eyes off the young man. Where had she seen him before? He looked up, and for a moment she stared into those deep blue eyes. And then she remembered. The young man shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Deirdre returned the smile, picked up her bags and set off down the path after her companions.

As they clambered onto the bus, Deirdre was just in time to hear Arnold declare: "You know, Major, I should never have taken my father's advice and settled for the life of a banker. You see, I'm one of nature's born entre ... ' Deirdre smiled again as she looked out of the window and watched the good-looking young man speed past them in his large cream Mercedes.

He smiled and waved to her as the last bus began its slow journey back to Mykonos.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE.

SIR MATTHEW ROBERTS QC CLOSED THE FILE and placed it on the desk in front of him. He was not a happy man. He was quite willing to defend Mary Banks, but he was not at all confident about her plea of not guilty.

Sir Matthew leaned back in his deep leather chair to consider the case while he awaited the arrival of the instructing solicitor who had briefed him, and the junior counsel he had selected forthe case. As he gazed out over the Middle Temple courtyard, he only hoped he had made the right decision.

On the face of it, the case of Regina v. Banks was a simple one of murder; but after what Bruce Banks had subjected his wife to during the eleven years of their marriage, Sir Matthew was confident not only that he could get the charge reduced to manslaughter, but that if the jury was packed with women, he might even secure an acquittal.

There was, however, a complication.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, something his wife had always chided him for. He looked at Victoria's photograph on the desk in front of him. It reminded him of his youth: but then, Victoria would always be young - death had ensured that.

Reluctantly, he forced his mind back to his client and her plea of mitigation. He reopened the file. Mary Banks was claiming that she couldn't possibly have chopped her husband up with an axe and buried him under the pigsty, because at the time of his death she was not only a patient in the local hospital, but was also blind. As Sir Matthew inhaled deeply once again, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he bellowed - not because he liked the sound of his own voice, but because the doors of his chambers were so thick that if he didn't holier, no one would ever hear him.Sir Matthew's clerk opened the door and announced Mr.

Bernard Ca.s.son and Mr. Hugh Witherington. Two very different men, thought Sir Matthew as they entered the room, but each would serve the purpose he had planned for them in this particular case.

Bernard Ca.s.son was a solicitor of the old school - formal, punctilious, and always painstakingly correct. His conservatively tailored herringbone suit never seemed to change from one year to the next; Matthew often wondered if he had purchased half a dozen such suits in a dosing-down sale and wore a different one every day of the week. He peered up at Ca.s.son over his half-moon spectacles. The solicitor's thin mustache and neatly parted hair gave him an old-fashioned look that had fooled many an opponent into thinking he had a second-cla.s.s mind. Sir Matthew regularly gave thanks that his friend was no orator, because if Bernard had been a barrister, Matthew would not have relished the prospect of opposing him in court.

A pace behind Ca.s.son stood his junior counsel for this brief, Hugh Witherington. The Lord must have been feeling particularly ungenerous on the day Witherington entered the world, as He had given him neither looks nor brains. If He had bestowed any other talents on him, they were yet to be revealed. After several attempts Witherington had finally been called to the Bar, but for the number of briefs he was offered, he would have had a more regular income had he signed on forthe dole. Sir Matthew's clerk had raised an eyebrow when the name of Witherington had been mooted as junior counsel in the case, but Sir Matthew just smiled, and had not offered an explanation.

Sir Matthew rose, stubbed out his cigarette, and ushered the two men towards the vacant chairs on the other side of his desk.

He waited for both of them to settle before he proceeded.

"Kind of you to attend chambers, Mr. Ca.s.son," he said, although they both knew that the solicitor was doing no more than holding with the traditions of the Bar.

"My pleasure, Sir Matthew," replied the elderly solicitor, bowing slightly to show that he still appreciated the old courtesies.

"I don't think you know Hugh Witherington, my junior in this case," said Sir Matthew, gesturing towards the undistinguished young barrister.

Witherington nervously touched the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.

"No, I hadn't had the pleasure of Mr. Witherington's acquaintance until we met in the corridor a few moments ago," said Ca.s.son. "May I say how delighted I am that you have been willing to take on this case, Sir Matthew?" Matthew smiled at his friend's formality. He knew Bernard would never dream of calling him by his Christian name whilejunior counsel was present. "I'm only too happy to be working with you again, Mr. Ca.s.son. Even if you have presented me on this occasion with something of a challenge." The conventional pleasantries over, the elderly solicitor removed a brown file from his battered Gladstone bag.

"I have had a further consultation with my client since I last saw you," he said as he opened the file, 'and I took the opportunity to pa.s.s on your opinion. But I fear Mrs. Banks remains determined to plead not guilty."

"So she is still protesting her innocence?"

"Yes, Sir Matthew. Mrs. Banks emphatically claims that she couldn't have committed the murder because she had been blinded by her husband some days before he died, and in any case, at the time of his death she was registered as a patient at the local hospital."

"The pathologist's report is singularly vague about the time of AN EYE FOR AN EYE death," Sir Matthew reminded his old friend.

"After all, they didn't discover the body for at least a couple of weeks. As I understand it, the police feel the murder could have been committed twenty-four or even forty-eight hours before Mrs. Banks was taken to the hospital."

"I have also read their report, Sir Matthew," Ca.s.son replied, 'and informed Mrs. Banks of its contents. But she remains adamant that she is innocent, and that the jury will bepersuaded of it. "Especially with Sir Matthew Roberts as my defender,"

were the exact words she used, if I remember correctly," he added with a smile.

"I am not seduced, Mr. Ca.s.son," said Sir Matthew, lighting another cigarette.

"You did promise Victoria -' interjected the solicitor, lowering his shield, but only for a moment.

"So, I have one last chance to convince her," said Sir Matthew, ignoring his friend's comment.

"And Mrs. Banks has one last chance to convince you," said Mr.

Ca.s.son.

"Touch(," said Sir Matthew, nodding his appreciation of the solicitor's neat riposte as he stubbed out his almost untouched cigarette. He felt he was losing this fencing match with his old friend, and that the time had come to go on the attack.

He returned to the open file on his desk. "First," he said, looking straight at Ca.s.son, as if his colleague were in the witness box, 'when the body was dug up, there were traces of your client's blood on the collar of the dead man's shirt."

"My client accepts that,'

said Ca.s.son, calmly checking his own notes. "But ... '

"Second," said Sir Matthew before Ca.s.son had a chance to reply, 'when the instrument that had been used to chop up the body, an axe, was foundthe following day, a hair from Mrs. Banks's head was discovered lodged in its handle.'

"We won't be denying that," said Ca.s.son.

"We don't have a lot of choice," said Sir Matthew, rising from his seat and beginning to pace around the room. "And third, when the spade that was used to dig the victim's grave was finally discovered, your client's fingerprints were found all over it."

"We can explain that as well," said Ca.s.son.

"But will the jury accept our explanation," asked Sir Matthew, his voice rising, 'when they learn that the murdered man had a long history of violence, that your client was regularly seen in the local village either bruised, or with a black eye, sometimes bleeding from cuts around the head - once even nursing a broken arm?"

"She has always stated that those injuries were sustained when working on the farm where her husband was manager."

"That places a strain on my credulity which it's quite unable to withstand," said Sir Matthew, as he finished circling the room and returned to his chair. "And we are not helped by the fact that the only person known to have visited the farm regularly was the postman. Apparently everyone else in the village refused to venture beyond the front gate." He flicked over another page of his notes."That might have made it easier for someone to come in and kill Banks," suggested Witherington.

Sir Matthew was unable to hide his surprise as he looked across at his junior, having almost forgotten that he was in the room.

"Interesting point," he said, unwilling to stamp on Witherington while he still had it in his power to play the one trump card in this case.

"The next problem we face," he went on, 'is that your client claims that she went blind after her husband struck her with a hot frying pan. Rather convenient, Mr. Ca.s.son, wouldn't you say?"

"The scar can still be seen clearly on the side of my client's face," said Ca.s.son. "And the doctor remains convinced that she is indeed blind.'

AN "Doctors are easier to convince than prosecuting counsels and world-weary judges, Mr.

Ca.s.son," said Sir Matthew, turning another page of his file. "Next, when samples from the body were examined - and G.o.d knows who was willing to carry out that particular task - the quant.i.ty of strychnine found in the blood would have felled a bull elephant."

"That was only the opinion of the Crown's pathologists," said Mr. Ca.s.son.

"And one I will find hard to refute in court," said Sir Matthew, ^"because counsel for the prosecution will undoubtedly askMrs. Banks to explain why she purchased four grams of strychnine from an agricultural supplier in Reading shortly before her husband's death. If I were in his position, I would repeat that question over and over again.'

"Possibly," said Ca.s.son, checking his notes, 'but she has explained that they had been having a problem with rats, which had been killing the chickens, and she feared for the other animals on the farm, not to mention their nine-year-old son."

"Ah, yes, Rupert. But he was away at boarding school at the time, was he not?" Sir Matthew paused. "You see, Mr. Ca.s.son, my problem is a simple one." He closed his file. "I don't believe her. ' Ca.s.son raised an eyebrow.

"Unlike her husband, Mrs. Banks is a very clever woman.

Witness the fact that she has already fooled several people into believing this incredible story. But I can tell you, Mr. Ca.s.son, that she isn't going to fool me."

"But what can we do, Sir Matthew, if Mrs. Banks insists that this is her case, and asks us to defend her accordingly?" asked Ca.s.son.

Sir Matthew rose again and paced around the room silently, coming to a halt in front of the solicitor. "Not a lot, I agree,"

he said, reverting to a more conciliatory tone. "But I do wish I could convince the dear lady to plead guilty to manslaughter. We'd be certain to gain the sympathy of any jury, after what she's been putthrough. And we can always rely on some women's group or other to picket the court throughout the hearing. Any judge who pa.s.sed a harsh sentence on Mary Banks would be described as chauvinistic and s.e.xually discriminatory by every newspaper leader writer in the land. I'd have her out of prison in a matter of weeks. No, Mr. Ca.s.son, we must get her to change her plea."

"But how can we hope to do that, when she remains so adamant that she is innocent?" asked Ca.s.son.

A smile flickered across Sir Matthew's face. "Mr.

Witherington and I have a plan, don't we, Hugh?" he said, turning to Witherington for a second time.

"Yes, Sir Matthew," replied the young barrister, sounding pleased to at last have his opinion sought, even in this rudimentary way. As Sir Matthew volunteered no clue as to the plan, Ca.s.son did not press the point.

"So, when do I come face to face with our client?" asked Sir Matthew, turning his attention back to the solicitor.

"Would eleven o'clock on Monday morning be convenient?"

asked Ca.s.son.

"Where is she at the moment?" asked Sir Matthew, thumbing through his diary.

"Holloway," replied Ca.s.son."Then we will be at Holloway at eleven on Monday morning,"

said Sir Matthew. "And to be honest with you, I can't wait to meet Mrs. Mary Banks. That woman must have real guts, not to mention imagination.

Mark my words, Mr. Ca.s.son, she'll prove a worthy opponent for any counsel." When Sir Matthew entered the interviewing room of Holloway Prison and saw Mary Banks for the first time, he was momentarily taken aback. He knew from his file on the case that she was thirty-seven, but the frail, grey-haired woman who sat with her hands resting in her lap looked nearer fifty. Only when he studied her fine cheekbones and slim figure did he see that she might once have been a beautiful woman.

Sir Matthew allowed Ca.s.son to take the seat opposite her at a plain formica table in the centre of an otherwise empty, creampainted brick room. There was a small, barred window halfway up the wall that threw a shaft of light onto their client. Sir Matthew and his junior took their places on either side of the instructing solicitor. Leading counsel noisily poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Mrs. Banks," said Ca.s.son.

"Good morning, Mr. Ca.s.son," she replied, turning slightly to face the direction from which the voice had come. "You have brought someone with you."

"Yes, Mrs. Banks, I am accompanied by Sir Matthew Roberts QC, who will be acting as your defence counsel." She gave aslight bow of the head as Sir Matthew rose from his chair, took a pace forward and said, "Good morning, Mrs. Banks," then suddenly thrust out his right hand.