Rumpole and the Penge Bungalow Murders (18 page)

‘Dunc the hunk we called him. His name was Duncan.'

‘Of course it was.'

So they went off, discussing the evidence in the case of Miss Bigsby and the janitor, and I pushed my chair nearer to the gas fire and contemplated my memoirs, in which the issues were far more serious than the question of who'd slandered Miss Bigsby.

 

I went into Court Number One at the Old Bailey, as I have reported, after a sudden enlightening feeling, as chuffed as stout Cortez when taking his first view of the Pacific. What had been said by Reggie Proudfoot in the robing room had suddenly thrown a bright light on what was, up until then, only a dark suspicion in the corner of the Rumpole mind. It seemed to be the simple answer to a simple question, but how I was to get it into the evidence, or what I could do with it if I got it there, remained a mystery as yet unsolved.

So when I got up to cross-examine an important witness, the hands were once again damp and the mouth dry. In a way the idea I had made the job more difficult. All I could do was to fire off as many questions as possible in the faint hope that one of them would startle a cowering covey of truths and send them flying out into the open. The witness in question had given his name as Martyn Dempsy and his occupation as curator of a small geology museum attached to a south London civic centre. He had studied the subject, he told the court with a good deal of pride, after he left the air force. He also declined to take the oath as he thought all swearing was an insult to God and Lord Jessup allowed him to affirm. All of this made him, I felt sure, a serious witness the jury would instinctively trust. He stood, a gaunt figure in the witness box, suddenly removed from the rocks and fossils of his small and rarely visited museum.

‘Mr Dempsy,' I began in a tone which I hoped was friendly, ‘you were in the same squadron as Jerry Jerold and Charles Weston?'

‘I was.'

‘Did you get to know Jerry Jerold well?'

‘Pretty well, yes.'

‘Tell me this. Was there a time when he got, shall we say, pessimistic about the war?'

‘He had his gloomy times, yes. Some of us did.'

‘But did he take it further and say Hitler was bound to win?'

‘I can remember him saying that once or twice,' the reliable witness agreed reluctantly.

‘What did you say to him on those occasions?'

‘I told him to stop talking like that and get on with the job.'

‘Very commendable. And did he take your advice?'

‘Until his plane was shot down. Yes, I believe he did.'

‘Until his plane was shot down.' I repeated this for the benefit of the jury, and then asked, ‘Did you see much of Jerry Jerold after the war?'

‘Not very much. We met at a few reunion dinners, that sort of thing.'

‘Was it a surprise when he asked you to this theatre party?'

‘A bit of a surprise, yes. He asked a number of people from the squadron. We all paid our way.'

‘And what was the purpose of this party, do you think?'

Here Winterbourne rumbled to his feet and objected that the witness couldn't possibly know what was in the deceased's mind. The judge, unfairly I thought, said, ‘Yes, Mr Rumpole. You have only recently become familiar with the rules of evidence. Apply your knowledge to this case, would you be so good?' After which, he snuffed a large helping off the back of his hand. I waited for this operation to be over, and when the silk handkerchief had been applied to the judge's nostrils I rephrased the question. ‘Was there a discussion of your wartime experiences? '

‘Not a general discussion, no.'

‘Did you hear the deceased, Jerry Jerold, say anything about
his
wartime experiences that evening?'

Winterbourne rumbled another objection, but I was able to argue that, as Simon was accused of murdering his father during a quarrel about the war, the deceased's views on this subject should be relevant. The question was allowed.

‘I heard Peter -'

‘That's Peter Benson?'

‘Yes. I heard them discussing prison.'

‘We've heard from my learned friend in opening this case that Jerry Jerold was a prisoner of war.'

‘Yes.'

‘You know that he was?'

‘Yes, of course. He talked about it often.'

‘Often?'

‘Whenever we talked about the war.'

‘On the night of the murder was anything more said by Jerry Jerold about his wartime experiences?'

‘Only when Peter Benson proposed a toast to the memory of David Galloway.'

‘David Galloway being the navigator who died when the plane caught fire.'

‘Yes.'

‘Who proposed the toast?'

‘Peter Benson. In the Cafe Royal, before we went to the Palladium. It was rather peculiar.'

‘How peculiar?'

‘Peter Benson proposed a toast to David's memory. Then he congratulated Jerry and Charlie Weston on their extraordinary luck in getting out of a burning plane without catching fire. He said it was a pity David didn't have their luck.'

‘How did the party take that?'

‘I would say with embarrassment.'

‘And how did Jerold react?'

‘He asked us to raise a glass to David, “a good friend and a brave officer”. I think by that time Jerry had had a good deal to drink.'

‘And did you raise a glass to David Galloway?'

‘I do not touch alcohol.' As though to illustrate this, the witness took a great gulp of water from the glass provided.

‘Mr Dempsy, if we could come to the night of the alleged murder -'

‘I'm glad to hear that!' The judge's voice was as silky as his handkerchief. ‘I have allowed you a good deal of latitude, Mr Rumpole. The jury may think that the evidence we have just heard has some connection with the quarrel about the war. On the other hand, they may not. They may feel that you have been wasting the court's time.'

‘On the other hand, My Lord,' I was by now calm enough to reply, ‘they may not. By the end of the case, they may have found it extremely helpful.'

The Lord Chief Justice's eyebrows shot up towards his wig. ‘This is not the time, Mr Rumpole, for you to comment on the evidence one way or the other.'

‘I'm sorry, My Lord. I thought as you were commenting -'

‘Mr Rumpole!' The silk handkerchief had gone from the judge's voice, which was now as soothing as a Brillopad. ‘One of the lessons you apparently still have to learn is to be careful what you say in the presence of the jury.'

‘Careful? If I ever became as careful as C. H. Wystan, you might as well fix the date of Simon's execution now. I have absolutely no desire to become what is known as a “safe pair of hands”!' I didn't, of course, say any of this, but I thought it as I moved to safer ground, the party in the bungalow. ‘Mr Dempsy, when the party got back to the bungalow had all the others drunk a good deal?'

‘They drank in the interval at the Palladium. And we stopped at a bar before we got the train, yes.'

‘And when they got Simon out of bed, he poured out whisky.'

‘That is so, yes.'

‘But you saw all that was going on with a clear and sober eye?'

This got a few smiles from the jury but the geologist, sipping water again, remained serious.

‘I can remember what was going on, yes.'

‘What was going on was a father blaming his son for being too young to fight in the war.'

‘You could put it like that.'

‘I'm not suggesting you joined in, but some of the others did, didn't they?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was there a man called Harry Daniels there?'

‘Yes. I knew him in the war.'

‘Did he tell the others to leave the boy alone?'

‘I think he did.'

‘Have you seen Harry Daniels lately?'

‘I'm afraid we've lost touch since the murder.'

‘I understand. We've rather lost touch with him too.'

‘Mr Rumpole!' The judge clearly showed his displeasure. ‘If you want to give evidence, you should go into the witness box. Whether you could get in touch with this man Daniels is quite irrelevant.'

‘If Your Lordship says so,' I gave him the retort humble, ‘then of course I accept it. Mr Dempsy -' I turned back to the witness to indicate that, as far as I was concerned, the matter was closed - ‘let me take you to the moment when there was talk about killing.'

‘“You're so keen on teaching people to kill people. I promise you I'll kill the first of you that touches me. So you'd better watch out.”' The judge was reading from his notebook.

‘Exactly.' I gave His Lordship a small bow and tried to keep any suspicion of irony out of my voice. ‘I'm grateful to Your Lordship for reminding the witness.'

All I got there was a glare and the judge took out his irritation on the lid of his snuff box, to which he administered a severe tap.

‘You heard him say that, Mr Dempsy?'

‘Well, the boy -'

‘Simon Jerold?'

‘Yes. He picked up the gun and pointed it at his father.'

‘Mr Dempsy, we know that there was a separate magazine that held the bullets. Did you see young Simon fit the magazine on to the gun?'

‘No, I didn't see that.'

‘Are you sure you didn't?'

‘Yes.' The witness thought it over again. ‘I'm sure he didn't.'

‘So you would agree with Mr Wardle, who gave evidence last week, that Simon was threatening his father with an empty gun?'

‘I suppose he was, yes.'

I waited patiently for His Lordship to make the note I expected of him. After he had done that without too much of a show of reluctance, I allowed myself to turn to the jury with a look of moderate triumph. Up to this moment I was enjoying the cross-examination, but I was about to move into a dangerous area and ask questions when I didn't know the answers.

‘The gun was taken from Simon by Peter Benson.'

‘I saw that, yes.'

‘Did young Simon Jerold put up any sort of struggle for the gun? Did Mr Benson have any difficulty taking it away from him?'

‘Not so far as I could see, no.'

‘Not so far as I could see.' The judge repeated the qualification while he made the note. Young white wig as I was, I wasn't having that. ‘Were you looking at the couple as the gun was taken away?' was what I asked the witness.

‘Yes, I was.'

‘If there had been a struggle for the gun, would you have seen it?'

‘Yes, I'm sure that I would.'

‘Thank you very much, Mr Dempsy. Now, let me ask you this. After the gun had been removed from Simon, what happened to it?'

Dempsy frowned. ‘I really couldn't say.'

‘Was it put back on the mantelpiece, for instance?'

‘I didn't see that, I'm sure.'

‘What about the magazine? Did that stay on the mantelpiece? '

‘I'm afraid I can't remember that. We saw Simon bang back into his room.'

‘How long did the party go on after Simon left it?'

‘Everyone stayed on for about an hour.'

‘About an hour after the business with the gun?'

‘Yes, that's right.'

‘So doesn't that mean that no one took that young man's behaviour with the gun particularly seriously?'

‘I don't think we did take it too seriously. At the time.'

I paused then to make sure the answer sank into the minds of the jury. Then I asked, ‘Was it a happy party, after the gun incident?'

‘Not really.'

‘Will you tell the jury what you mean exactly?'

‘Jerry Jerold was drinking quite a lot . . .'

‘Ever since Peter Benson had proposed a toast to the navigator?'

‘Yes, after that. Jerry seemed on edge. Excited at times. At others, well, he could be quite rude. He got at me for not drinking and then became, well, morose. Perhaps he felt guilty about the way he'd treated his son.'

‘Perhaps?'

‘Or perhaps I'm just imagining things.'

‘No, Mr Dempsy, I don't think you are. When did you leave?'

‘In fact I was almost the last to go.'

‘Tell us about that.'

‘I'd ordered a taxi because I knew I'd be late and it was held up or something. Only Peter Benson, Jerry and Charlie were left. The atmosphere seemed worse. I can't explain why.'

‘Just tell us what happened, if you would.'

‘I'd been to the bathroom and I was washing my hands with the door open. The bungalow's quite small. You can hear what's going on in other rooms.'

‘Tell us what you heard.'

‘Well, I heard Peter Benson say something more about David Galloway.'

‘Tell us.'

‘Peter said, “He just wouldn't play ball with you, would he?” Then there was a bit I didn't hear, until I heard Peter say something about “surrender” and “execution”.'

‘Execution?' There was a sudden complete silence in Court Number One at the word, all of us, no doubt, thinking of the young man alone in the dock.

‘That was what he said. Then someone called me, I think it was Charlie, to say my taxi had arrived.'

‘And you never saw Jerry Jerold or Charles Weston again?'

‘Never.'

I suppressed a whoop of joy, I even tried not to smile. Whichever god looks after white-wigged barristers out of their depth in an important criminal trial had just handed me an unexpected slice of luck. Martyn Dempsy the geologist had turned up trumps. I gathered my gown about me and sat down, giving the jury a look which meant, ‘There you are. I told you so, and we'll hear a great deal more about that before the case is over.' Meanwhile, Winterbourne had rumbled to his feet and sounded as though he thought it extremely bad form for one of his witnesses to give unexpected evidence apparently so satisfactory to the defence.