Brought in Dead

CHAPTER 6

When Brady opened the door of the Coroner’s Court and peered inside, proceedings had already started. In spite of the fact that there were no more than half a dozen members of the public present, the court seemed overcrowded with the jury taking up almost one side of the room and the coroner high above them on the bench, the court officers below.

Miller was just leaving the stand. He noticed Brady at once and they went outside quietly and closed the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brady said. “I had a remand. How’s it going?”

“I’ve just done my little act. Craig’s down front with Harriet. Vernon’s got Henry Baxter with him.”

“That old shark?” Brady whistled. “He’ll charge him plenty.”

“Any word from Grant?”

Brady nodded. “Not good I’m afraid. He’s just heard from the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions. They’ve considered the matter and as far as they’re concerned, there isn’t even the beginnings of a case against Vernon.”

“Never mind. It was worth a try and there’s still the hearing. You can never be sure what’s going to happen at a coroner’s inquest.”

They went back inside and sat down in time to hear Monica Grey take the oath.

“You are Monica Alice Grey and you reside at 15, Argyle Road?”

“That’s right.”

“When did you first meet the deceased?”

“About two years ago. We were both students at the College of Art.”

“We have heard from Detective Sergeant Miller that she came to reside at the same address as yourself under the name of Joanna Martin. Why was that?”

“She was having trouble at home. She decided to leave, but she didn’t want her father to know where she was living.”

Miller leaned forward slightly, intent on the proceedings. In his own case he had been compelled to stick strictly to the facts and what Monica Grey said from now on was going to be of crucial importance.

“You were on close terms with the deceased?”

“We were good friends — yes.”

“She confided in you — discussed her troubles. For example, were you aware that she was a drug addict?”

“I was, but only found out by accident. I happened to go into her room one day and found her giving herself a fix.”

The coroner glanced over the top of his spectacles sharply. “I beg your pardon?”

“An injection of heroin.”

“And did she tell you what had started her on the habit?”

“Yes, she said she’d passed out after having too much to drink at some party or other. Someone had given her an injection while she was unconscious.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. For a giggle, maybe.”

“Indeed.” The coroner examined the papers in front of him, his face impassive. “Did she ever suggest to you that the party in question was at a gaming club called the Flamingo owned by Mr. Maxwell Vernon?”

“Definitely not.”

The coroner looked at her steadily for a moment and then nodded. “You were aware that she was pregnant?”

“Yes, she told me a couple of weeks ago.”

“In what circumstances?”

“She was very upset. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her.”

“To get rid of the child?”

“That’s right.”

The coroner made another note. “One final question. As regards the state of mind of the deceased. Would you say she was a balanced individual?”

Monica Grey shook her head. “Not during the time she lived with me. She sometimes had terrible bouts of depression, but I think that was the drugs.”

“Thank you, that will be all.”

The fat, well-dressed man who was sitting at the front beside Vernon half rose and the coroner stayed Monica Grey with his hand. “Yes, Mr. Baxter.”

“I appear on behalf of Mr. Maxwell Vernon, called as a witness in this matter. Certain rumours seem to be circulating which connect my client and the deceased. I think we might be able to clarify the situation if I could put a question or two to Miss Grey.”

“By all means.”

“I shan’t keep you long, Miss Grey,” Baxter said. “I’d like to return to this question of the deceased’s pregnancy. Did she ever tell you who the father was?”

“I asked her, but she wouldn’t disclose his name.”

“It has been alleged in certain quarters that my client was responsible.”

“He couldn’t have been.”

“You seem very positive. Might I ask why?”

Monica Grey hesitated, glanced across at Vernon and said with obvious reluctance, “To tell you the truth, I knew Joanna had been out with Mr. Vernon a few times and I thought it might be him. When I put it to her she said definitely not. That it was someone else entirely.”

“A last question, Miss Grey. I understand you were present at a private party given by Mr. Vernon at his flat at the Flamingo Club on the night the deceased died.”

“That’s right.”

“Please tell us what happened.”

“It was about nine o’clock. The party had just got started when Joanna walked in. She was in a bit of a state so Mr. Vernon took her into the corner to calm her down.”

“Could you hear their conversation?”

“Not really. She was obviously very upset and Mr. Vernon seemed to be trying to take her out of herself. After a while she just turned and walked out.”

“What did Mr. Vernon do?”

“He took me on one side and said he hadn’t liked the way she was talking. He asked me to keep an eye on her, to let him know if there was anything he could do.”

“Thank you, Miss Grey.”

Monica Grey returned to her seat as Baxter sat down and Vernon was called. He made an impressive figure in the dock, erect and manly in a well-cut suit, the Guards tie standing out against a snow white shirt. His occupation was given as company director, which made the impression on the jury that Miller had expected.

“Mr. Vernon, how long had you known the deceased?”

“About four months,” Vernon said. “Miss Monica Grey, an employee of mine, brought her to a party at my place one night. I understood they’d been students together.”

“And you became close friends?”

“I think it would be fair to say that.” Vernon shrugged. “As an artist, she had real talent and I admired her work. I commissioned her to paint a series of murals at my club.”

“I see.” The coroner’s voice was dry, remote. “Was the relationship ever anything more than a business one?”

“I took her to dinner now and then or to the theatre. We got on very well together. I liked her immensely.”

“And on occasion you were intimate with her?”

Vernon managed to inject just the right amount of outrage into his voice when he replied. “The girl’s dead, damn you! Can’t she be left in peace!”

There was a flurry of movement amongst the jury, an outburst of whispering. One man even nodded approvingly and the coroner had to call for silence.

He removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair.

“Mr. Vernon, I can respect your feelings in this matter, but I must insist on a reply — and you are still under oath, sir.”

Vernon’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, we were intimate.” He drew himself up suddenly and glared fiercely at the coroner. “And why not? She wasn’t a child. It was our own affair.”

The coroner replaced his spectacles and examined the papers before him again. “Were you aware that she had become a drug addict?”

“Certainly not. Do you think I could have stood by and done nothing if I’d known?”

“We’ve already heard that on the night she died, she appeared at a private party you were giving at your club.”

“That’s right.”

“What happened on that occasion?”

“There really isn’t much to tell. She was depressed and unhappy. She told me that she’d lost the urge to paint, that life didn’t seem worth living any longer. I realise, in retrospect, that it was the drugs which had reduced her to that state. I advised her to go home. She’d told me previously that she and her father hadn’t been seeing eye to eye, but it seemed to me that didn’t matter any longer. That home was the best place for her.”

“How did she react to that advice?”

“She didn’t, I’m afraid. I went to get her a drink. When I returned, she’d gone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vernon. You may stand down.”

As Vernon went back to his seat, Baxter rose again. “If I might insert a word at this time on my client’s behalf?”

The coroner nodded and Baxter continued, “Certain allegations do seem to have been made in connection with this unfortunate young woman’s death, allegations which would suggest that my client was in some way responsible. I would suggest his complete honesty in answering the question put to him, and his bearing on the stand, added to the statement of Miss Monica Grey, an independent witness, make nonsense of these allegations, which are completely without foundation. My client is Managing Director of a company which controls several important enterprises. I might also add, although he has attempted to dissuade me from so doing, that he was at one time a regular officer in the Brigade of Guards and in 1951 was awarded the Distinguished Service Order for gallantry and outstanding leadership during the Malayan Emergency.”

Vernon looked suitably embarrassed as Baxter sat down. “Thank you, Mr. Baxter,” the coroner said. “Call Colonel Craig, please.”

All eyes turned on Craig as he got to his feet and moved to the stand. He stood there, hands resting lightly on the rail, the eternal soldier in spite of his dark suit and tie.

“You are Colonel Duncan Stuart Craig and you reside at Rosedene, Grange Avenue, St. Martin’s Wood?”

“That is correct.”

“Did you see the body of a woman at the City Mortuary on Tuesday of this week?”

“I did.”

“Who was she?”

“My daughter — Joanna Maria Craig.”

“I will issue you with a burial order.” There was a pause as the coroner made a note and he continued, “I know this must be most distressing for you, Colonel Craig, so I shan’t keep you long. Until four months ago or thereabouts, your daughter was a perfectly normal young woman for her age in every way?”

“That is so. The change, when it came, was inexplicable to us. Temper tantrums, extremely emotional behaviour, that sort of thing. She became a completely different person. I realise now that her general deterioration was a direct consequence of her addiction to heroin.”

“From the time your daughter left home until her death did she ever communicate with you?”

“There were three letters, all postmarked Chelsea. They are before the court.”

The coroner nodded. “I have read them. They would seem to imply that she was residing in London and studying at a College of Art there. Presumably some acquaintance posted them for her.” He hesitated and then went on, “Colonel Craig, you have heard the evidence before the court. Have you anything to add?”

Miller felt Brady stir beside him and held his breath, waiting for Craig’s answer. “I have nothing to add, sir. The evidence in this matter seems clear enough.”

“And you can make of that what you like,” Brady whispered to Miller.

And then, with a rush, it was all over. The jury didn’t even bother to retire and the foreman, a small, greying bank clerk, rose self-consciously. “We find that the deceased took her own life while the balance of her mind was disturbed.”

“And that is the verdict of you all.” The foreman nodded and sat down. “Let it so be entered.”

There was a sudden hush as people sat up expectantly, waiting for the coroner’s closing words. “It is not within my province to make moral judgements. It is sufficient for me to say that on the evidence presented I must agree completely with the verdict of the jury. There is one disturbing feature of this case and it is this. Joanna Craig was not a registered drug addict and yet somehow or other she managed to obtain a daily supply. I trust that the representatives of the police present in court will see that this aspect of the affair is most thoroughly investigated.”

“The court will rise for Her Majesty’s Coroner.”

There was a general move towards the exit and Brady turned towards Miller, his face grim. “And that’s that. The swine’s got away with it.”

“What else did you expect?” Miller said.

Colonel Craig and Harriet were still sitting down at the front and Vernon and Baxter had to pass them. For a moment, Vernon hesitated as if about to speak and then obviously thought better of it. He nodded to Miller and Brady as he passed them, face grave, and went out.

“I wonder what Craig would have done if the bastard had tried to speak to him?” Brady said.

Craig came towards them, Harriet hanging on to his arm. He smiled tightly. “Have you gentlemen time for a drink?”

Brady shook his head reluctantly. “Not me, I’m afraid. I’m in court again in ten minutes.” He nodded to Miller. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

For the moment, they had the court to themselves and Harriet Craig said bitterly, “Justice — is that what they call it?”

“I’m sorry,” Miller said. “More sorry than I can say. We tried the Director of Public Prosecutions but he told us we hadn’t got even the shadow of a case. I was hoping something might come out at the hearing. As you probably noticed, things are pretty informal in a coroner’s court. No one get’s worked up over procedure and so on which usually means that things have a chance to break through to the surface.”

“But not in this case, it would appear.”

Craig put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “Let’s have that drink, shall we? Do us all good.”

They sat in the saloon bar of the George across the square and Craig ordered brandy all round and offered Miller a cigarette while they waited. Behind them, the bar was lined with solicitors and their clerks and councils in wig and gown, most of them snatching a beer and a sandwhich between cases and talking shop.

Harriet leaned across and covered one of Miller’s hands with her own. “I’m sorry I sounded off back there in court. I wasn’t getting at you. You believe that, don’t you?”

“That’s all right.”

“You know Vernon’s a very clever man,” Craig said. “He handled himself superbly. Made an excellent impression on the jury.”

“And the girl helped, don’t forget that,” Miller said.

“Yes, she lied, didn’t she?”

“Too true she did, probably under extreme coercion.” Miller hesitated and then went on. “It wasn’t her fault, you know. She’s just as much a victim of circumstances as Joanna was. Actually, she’s quite a nice girl.”

Craig swirled the brandy around in his glass and drank some. “You know I’ve been finding out a few things about our Mr. Vernon. He’s quite a character.”

“Is that so?” Miller said carefully.

“Come off it, sergeant, you know what I mean.” Craig swallowed the rest of his brandy and waved to the waiter for another. “You’ve heard of Pedlar Palmer, I suppose?”

“Detective Superintendent Palmer of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard?”

“That’s right. We did some soldiering together in the Middle East back in ’43. I gave him a ring yesterday, just to ask him what he could tell me about Vernon. He owes me a favour or two. That’s in confidence, mind you.”

“Naturally.”

“Quite a boy, Max Vernon. Do you think he’s getting up to the same sort of capers in these parts as he did in London?”

“Leopards don’t change their spots.”

“That’s what I thought.” Craig nodded, a slight, abstracted smile on his face. “What is it they say about justice, sergeant? It must not only be done, it must be seen to be done? But what happens when society falls down on the job? What happens when the law isn’t adequate? Wouldn’t you say the individual was entitled to take matters into his own hands?”

“I know one thing,” Miller said. “It wouldn’t be the law he was taking.”

“You’ve got a good point there.” Craig glanced at his watch. “Good heavens, is that the time? I must go. Can you get a taxi, Harriet?”

Miller cut in quickly before she could reply. “I’ll see she gets home all right. I have my own car.”

“Thanks a lot. I’ll see you later then, my dear.” He squeezed Harriet’s shoulder briefly and was gone.

“Another drink, Miss Craig?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’d like to go if you don’t mind. I’m feeling rather tired. These past few days have been something of a strain.”

The Mini-Cooper was in for servicing and he was using his brother’s E-type Jaguar that day. She was suitably impressed. “I didn’t know police pay had improved quite this much.”

“It hasn’t,” he said as he handed her in and closed the door. “This belongs to my brother. He has more money than he knows what to do with and he worries about me.”

He took the car out into the main traffic stream expertly. “You’re a teacher, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “That’s right. Dock Street Secondary Modern. I took the day off.”

“A pretty rough neighbourhood.”

“Good experience. They’re pulling the school down soon. There’ll be a new Comprehensive opening about half a mile away.”

They drove in silence for a while and then he said, “You don’t think your father will try to do anything silly, do you?”

She frowned. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I wasn’t too happy about that conversation we had back at the pub. All that stuff about taking the law into one’s own hands when society falls down on the job.”

“It’s worth a thought, isn’t it?”

Miller shook his head. “Not if he wants to stay alive. Max Vernon’s a powerful, ruthless criminal without the slightest scruples about who he hurts or how he does it. He’d crush your father like an ant under his foot.”

She turned on him, her mouth slack with amazement. “Crush Duncan Craig — that worm?” She laughed wildly. “Don’t you know who my father is? If he’s made the decision I think he has, then Maxwell Vernon is a dead man walking.”