Hidden in Plain Sight

21

‘Do you think I could ask Dad to take my place?’ said Grace, as she collapsed onto the nearest seat.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Clare. ‘Not least because he’d refuse, and would never take you seriously again.’

‘But you saw how Faulkner handled Booth Watson from the witness box. He was so assured and self-confident, and he had an answer to every one of his questions.’

‘Of course he did. He knew every question that was coming, even before Booth Watson had opened his mouth, so it wasn’t difficult for him to have a well-rehearsed, apparently off the cuff, remark ready to impress the jury.’

‘But if he already knows about the smoking gun...’

‘If he did, Booth Watson would have pulled the trigger this morning and blown a hole right through your cross-examination.’

Grace was about to respond when her father walked into the corridor, clearly looking for his junior.

‘I’m going to ask him to take my place,’ she whispered.

‘We should be heading back in to court,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Everyone’s waiting for you. Even your mother’s sitting in the gallery.’

‘Grace has just been telling me how much she’s looking forward to the challenge,’ said Clare.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Sir Julian, ‘although one shouldn’t be over-confident on these occasions. First time at the Bailey is always a bit of an ordeal, but once you’re on your feet...’ Grace didn’t move. ‘Still, we’d better get going. Can’t afford to keep the judge waiting.’

When Grace stood up, her legs almost gave way. Clare quickly took her arm and led her slowly but firmly back into the arena.

‘Do you think Faulkner’s as nervous as I am?’ she asked, as Mr Justice Baverstock entered the court and took his place.

‘No,’ said Clare. ‘Which is why you’ll kill him.’

Once the court had settled, the judge looked expectantly down at the Crown’s bench. Grace glanced at her father, but he didn’t move. Booth Watson looked puzzled, while Faulkner glowered at her from the witness box.

‘Stand up!’ whispered Clare sharply.

Grace rose unsteadily to her feet. It didn’t help that everyone in the courtroom was staring at her. She looked down at her carefully prepared list of questions, opened her mouth, but no words came out.

‘When you’re ready, Ms Warwick,’ said the judge, giving her an encouraging smile. But still nothing.

‘Get on with it!’ Clare whispered from behind.

‘Mr Faulkner,’ she managed. ‘I won’t be keeping you for too long —’ a leaf she’d taken out of Booth Watson’s book — ‘but I would like to go into a little more detail about your meeting with Mr Heath on May the seventeenth, when, at your request, he went to your home to deliver a box of the finest Royal Beluga caviar.’

Booth Watson clung on to the lapels of his gown, a prearranged signal that his client should remain silent.

‘For which you paid him eight hundred pounds.’

‘That is correct,’ said Faulkner, feeling on safe ground.

‘And indeed, Mr Heath confirmed that amount when he testified on the first day of this trial.’

‘He did indeed,’ said Faulkner, defiantly. ‘So, are you now finally going to admit that he was telling the truth?’

‘When it comes to the eight hundred pounds, I accept that you were both telling the truth, but before I return to Mr Heath’s testimony, may I take you back to another witness, Dr Ruth Lewis, who gave evidence yesterday.’

‘The government’s lickspittle who was speaking on behalf of the Crown?’ said Faulkner, ignoring Booth Watson, who had warned him to keep his answers to the barest statements of fact and make sure not to insult anyone.

‘Dr Lewis told the court that the street price of twelve grams of ninety-two per cent pure cocaine would also be around eight hundred pounds. Didn’t you find that a bit of a coincidence?’

‘No, I did not. Once she knew the amount I’d paid Heath, she conveniently used it to bolster her case. Now that’s what I would call a coincidence, if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s working for you.’

That stone having flown harmlessly over Faulkner’s shoulder, Grace selected another one from her heavy pouch.

‘Are you suggesting, Mr Faulkner, that Dr Lewis made up the figure of eight hundred pounds in order to mislead the court?’

‘Your words, not mine,’ said Faulkner, looking rather pleased with himself.

‘Then I’m bound to ask, if you doubted her veracity at the time, why your distinguished counsel didn’t dispute her findings? In fact, as I’m sure you will recall, Mr Booth Watson chose not to cross-examine Dr Lewis, which would rather suggest that he accepted her evidence without question.’

Booth Watson was now tugging his lapels furiously, causing Clare to scribble another note, which she quickly passed to Sir Julian. He hadn’t noticed what Booth Watson had been up to until then, but immediately turned to stare pointedly at defence counsel, who reluctantly folded his arms.

‘Is it also another coincidence that twelve grams was the amount of pure cocaine the police found inside the statue at your home?’

‘He knew the exact amount to plant that could be bought for eight hundred pounds,’ said Faulkner, pointing at Lamont.

‘I don’t think so, Mr Faulkner. Mr Heath had left your home with the money before anyone else knew how much was involved — except you.’

‘As I said earlier, Ms Warwick, I can’t be sure of the exact sum I paid Mr Heath.’

This time Faulkner hadn’t ducked in time, but he stared defiantly at junior counsel, as if the blow hadn’t landed.

‘Mr Faulkner, a twenty-pound note was found on the desk in your study.’

‘Which Dr Lewis confirmed had no traces of cocaine on it, if I remember correctly.’

‘I wasn’t going to suggest otherwise, Mr Faulkner,’ said Grace. ‘However, I’m glad you agree that it is part of the evidence already accepted by both sides, and, indeed, your signature is on the list of items taken from your home by the police on the night of your arrest. But let’s be sure, shall we? M’lud, may I ask the defendant to study the note in question and confirm that it was the one found on his desk?’

The judge nodded and the clerk extracted a small cellophane bag from the bundle of evidence, walked across to the box and handed it to the defendant.

‘So it’s the note you found on my desk. Big deal,’ said Faulkner after glancing at it briefly. ‘What does that prove?’

‘Would you read out the serial number of the note to the court?’

Booth Watson was on his feet unusually quickly. ‘M’lud, is my client to be subjected to the latest parlour game?’

‘I suspect we are about to find out, Mr Booth Watson,’ said Mr Justice Baverstock, before turning to the defendant and saying, ‘Please read out the note’s serial number.’

Faulkner hesitated for some time before saying, ‘KA73863743.’

‘Thank you,’ said Grace. ‘I will now ask the clerk of the court to show you the packet of twenty-pound notes that the police found on Mr Heath when they apprehended him soon after he left your house.’

Once again Booth Watson was on his feet. ‘We only have the police’s word that these are the notes in question.’

‘I agree with you,’ said Grace, giving Booth Watson a warm smile. ‘But if Mr Faulkner would be kind enough to read out the serial numbers of the notes in question, we can then be certain this was the money he handed over to Mr Heath.’

Faulkner looked imploringly at his counsel, but Booth Watson’s arms were folded.

‘We are all waiting, Mr Faulkner,’ said the judge.

Faulkner began reading out the serial numbers. ‘KA73863744, KA73863745, KA73863746...’

‘If you look at the note found on your desk,’ said Grace, ‘you’ll find it is KA73864543. Making eight hundred pounds in total.’

William couldn’t help feeling rather pleased with himself.

‘What does that prove? I’ve already told you I gave Heath eight hundred pounds for twelve jars of caviar.’

‘I’m so glad you’ve raised the subject of the caviar, Mr Faulkner. Last Saturday, I visited Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly, and purchased a small jar of caviar.’ She produced it with a flourish from below the bench, and held it up for all to see, then paused for a moment before saying, ‘Allow me to read the description on the label. “Finest Beluga caviar. Will complement any meal. Contains two portions.” I confess, Mr Faulkner, that I considered the price a little extravagant, but the manager assured me that it is a top of the range product and is enjoyed by Fortnum and Mason’s most discerning customers. And as Mr Heath told us, you’re only interested in “top of the range”, even if you’re not one of Fortnum and Mason’s most discerning customers.’

‘M’lud,’ said Booth Watson, once again rising to his feet, ‘I am sure we are all enjoying this little conjuring trick performed by junior counsel. However, as her recent purchase was not offered in the bundle of evidence, can I presume that you will rule it as inadmissible?’

‘He’s worked it out,’ Sir Julian whispered to Grace. ‘Let’s hope Faulkner hasn’t.’

Faulkner kept staring at him, a puzzled look on his face.

‘And if not, may I request a short break in proceedings, so I can consult my client?’ added Booth Watson.

‘I had a feeling he’d be consulting you,’ said the judge. ‘Ms Warwick, may I see the evidence before I make my decision?’

‘Most certainly, My Lord,’ said Grace, producing three more jars of caviar from below the bench and handing them to the clerk of the court, who in turn gave one to the judge, one to Booth Watson and the third to the defendant.

After the judge had read the label and studied the jar, he said, ‘The jury should be allowed to examine the evidence before we continue.’

‘As Your Lordship pleases,’ said Grace, producing two more jars and feeling relieved that she’d taken Clare’s advice and bought a box of six. She handed them to the clerk, who passed them to the foreman of the jury.

‘Please continue, Ms Warwick,’ said Mr Justice Baverstock once the jury had considered the new evidence.

‘Mr Faulkner, can I ask you how many people sat down for dinner at your home on the night of May the seventeenth?’

‘Ten, including me, as has already been stated several times.’

‘And they all enjoyed a portion of caviar, before moving on to the main course?’

‘Without exception. In fact, one or two of them had a second helping.’

‘Did they indeed?’

Booth Watson once again began tugging repeatedly at the lapels of his gown, despite the fact that Sir Julian was staring at him.

‘I only ask, Mr Faulkner, because a single jar of Royal Beluga caviar, like the one you have in your hands, enough for two portions, is on sale at Fortnum and Mason for £340. But to be sure, I asked Fortnum’s manager, a Mr Nightingale, how much I would need if I was holding a dinner party for ten. He recommended seven hundred and fifty grams.’ She looked directly at the jury as she said, ‘Not twelve grams, which would just about fill a teaspoon.’

The trap had been set, and Grace waited for Faulkner to step into it. But at last Booth Watson had caught his client’s attention, and he remained silent.

‘You won’t be surprised to learn, Mr Faulkner, that I then asked Mr Nightingale how much seven hundred and fifty grams of caviar would cost — enough for ten people. He told me £1,700, but said he would throw in the biscuits for free.’

A little laughter broke out in the gallery, but the judge’s frown ensured that no one in the body of the court joined in.

‘M’lud,’ said Grace, ‘Mr Nightingale will be happy to appear before the court to confirm these figures, but you may feel that won’t be necessary, as Mr Faulkner has already sworn under oath that his chef served ten portions of caviar for himself and his guests that night, on silver platters, and that one or two of them enjoyed a second helping.’

An outbreak of chattering broke out in the courtroom. Grace took a deep breath and waited until she once again had everyone’s attention.

‘I accept, Mr Faulkner, that when it comes to the price of cocaine, you are clearly well informed, as you made clear when you said under oath that if the twelve grams found in your home had been for your personal use, it would have been enough for a year. I also acknowledge that you enjoy a reputation as a brilliant dealmaker. But I doubt if even you could have talked Fortnum and Mason into selling 1,700 pounds’ worth of their finest Beluga caviar for eight hundred pounds.’ Grace smiled at Faulkner. The trap had been sprung, and she now felt confident he could not escape. However, she still had one final question.

‘Do you think Mr Heath was telling the truth when he said, “The goods I picked up from Fortnum’s that morning at Mr Faulkner’s request were a dozen jars of the finest Royal Beluga caviar”?’

Faulkner looked as if he wanted to answer back, but no words came out of his mouth.

‘Mr Nightingale will also confirm that he was on duty at the store that morning, and the only dozen jars of caviar that were purchased were from a representative of the Queen Mother.’

Faulkner’s lips were now pursed, his cheeks flushed, and he had to grip the edge of the witness box to stop himself shaking.

‘Dare I ask, Mr Faulkner, if the Queen Mother was one of your dinner guests at Limpton Hall that night?’

This time the judge made no attempt to quell the laughter that followed, and even allowed himself a smile.

Grace waited for complete silence before she turned to face the jury and said, ‘No more questions, m’lud.’

She collapsed on the bench, exhausted, as the rest of the home team gathered around to congratulate her.

When they returned home that night, Grace told Clare that of the many plaudits heaped on her following her cross-examination, none could compare with overhearing her father telling an elderly colleague, ‘She’s my daughter, you know.’

After the judge had called on leading counsel to make their closing remarks, a suddenly revived and reinvigorated Sir Julian rose from his place and delivered a damning indictment of the accused to a spellbound jury.

The price of caviar was mentioned on more than one occasion, and he ended by reminding them that the accused seemed to be well aware of the cost of twelve grams of pure cocaine, even if he had no idea of the price of the finest caviar. He threw in for good measure Mr Nightingale’s evidence concerning the Queen Mother, which Booth Watson didn’t dispute. By the time he sat down, Sir Julian was in no doubt that the jury was well capable of working out who had been responsible for hiding the drugs in Faulkner’s statue on the night in question, and it certainly wasn’t his son.

Booth Watson didn’t cut quite such a convincing figure, as he tried gallantly to defend his client’s credibility. Rembrandt and Rubens received several honourable mentions, whereas Fortnum and Mason and Mr Nightingale were not referred to. He described Miles Faulkner as a good and honourable man, who had served both the nation and his local community with distinction. He suggested that the tragic death of Adrian Heath had robbed his client of the opportunity of a fair trial, and told the jury they should keep that in mind when considering their verdict, because if they were not convinced of Mr Faulkner’s guilt beyond reasonable doubt, they must release him from the dreadful prospect of prison so that he could continue his charitable works on behalf of his fellow men.

Mr Justice Baverstock’s summing up was both thorough and impartial, although he did point out that if the jury came to the conclusion that it was Faulkner who had hidden the cocaine in the statue, it could clearly not be regarded as being for his own ‘recreational’ use in the privacy of his home, as he himself had confirmed it would be enough to last him a year. However, he added, the Crown had failed to provide any evidence to show that Mr Faulkner had taken an illegal substance in the past, and the presence of the twenty-pound note found in his study did not prove that it had been used for snorting cocaine. If, after considering all the evidence, they were not convinced of Mr Faulkner’s guilt beyond reasonable doubt, they should return a verdict of not guilty. On the other hand, if they were not persuaded by Mr Faulkner’s explanation as to how the twelve grams of cocaine ended up in his statue, it was their duty to deliver a guilty verdict.

‘Your final decision should be based only on the evidence you have heard in this courtroom, and should not be influenced by the opinions of others, however close they may be to you, because they have not had the benefit of considering all the evidence presented in this court. Remember, you are the sole arbiters of justice in this case. Please take your time before reaching a verdict.’

He then invited the seven men and five women to retire to the jury room to consider their verdict. The court fell silent as the bailiff led them out.

‘Now we must all endure the worst part of any trial,’ said Sir Julian. ‘The interminable wait before we learn the jury’s verdict. My father always spent the time playing chess with his opponent.’ He glanced across at Booth Watson, and said, ‘Fortunately, he doesn’t play the game.’

‘What do you think the odds are of the jury coming down in our favour?’ asked Clare.

‘Trying to second guess a jury is a fool’s game,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Let’s just hope they’re all enjoying the caviar while they consider their verdict, because they’ll soon discover that a couple of jars wouldn’t be enough for ten people, let alone twelve.’

‘What do you think of our chances, BW?’ asked Faulkner as he stepped out of the dock and joined his counsel.

‘No idea. One jury will go one way, one another. But they’re certain to take their time before they reach a verdict, so you’ll have to be patient for a change.’

‘Then why don’t you join me for dinner at the Savoy? I’ve already booked a table.’

‘Thank you, Miles,’ said Booth Watson, but he didn’t add, Don’t bother to book a table for tomorrow night.

‘How much do you think they’re worth, Mr Davage?’ asked Christina, as they made their way back into the drawing room.

‘It’s difficult to put an accurate figure on such an important collection,’ said the managing director of Christie’s, ‘but I’m confident they would fetch at least thirty million, possibly more. Not least because your husband has been in touch with all the leading auction houses to let them know that if any of his pictures should come under the hammer, he’s to be informed immediately.’

‘That’s good news,’ said Christina, as she poured him another coffee.

‘If you are considering putting the collection up for auction, Mrs Faulkner, Christie’s would of course be honoured to conduct the sale.’

‘Thank you. But I won’t be able to make a final decision until I know the outcome of my husband’s trial.’

‘Of course,’ said Mr Davage. ‘We all hope and expect your husband will be found not guilty, and be able to return home with his reputation restored.’

‘Not all of us,’ said Christina, as the front doorbell rang. ‘Good timing,’ she said, rising from her place. ‘That must be Mr Nealon, who’s come to value the house.’