"Mortimer, John - Rumpole and the Heavy Brigade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mortimer John)

'You mean the jury might get a peep at the titfer, and convict without leaving the box?" I couldn't believe my ears.

'Mr Featherstone wears a nice bowler, Mr Rumpole.'

'I am not leading counsel, Henry,' I told him firmly. 'I am not the Conservative-Labour M.P. for somewhere or other, and I don't like nice bowlers. Our old clerk Albert managed to live with thfs hat for a good many years.'

'There's been some changes made since Albert's time, Mr Rumpole.'

Henry had laid himself open, and I'm afraid I made the unworthy comment.

'Oh, yes! I got some decent briefs in Albert's time. The "Penge Bungalow Murder", the Brighton forgery. I wasn't put out to grass in the Uxbridge Magistrates' Court.'

The chairs in my room in Chambers have become a little wobbly over the years and my first thought was that the two large men sitting on them might be in some danger of collapse. They both wore blue suits made of some lightweight material, and both had gold wrist watches and identity bracelets dangling at their wrists. They had diamond rings, pink faces and brushed back black hair. Leslie Delgardo was the eldest and the most affable, his brother Basil had an almost permanent look of discontent and his voice easily became querulous. In attendance, balanced on my insecure furniture, were ' Shady" Nooks, a silver haired and suntanned person who also sported a large gold wristwatch, and his articled clerk, Miss Stebbings, a nice-looking girl fresh from law school, who had clearly no idea what area of the law she had got into.

I lit a small cigar, looked round the assembled company, and said,' Our client is not with us, of course.'

'Hardly, Mr Rumpole,' said Nooks. 'Mr Peter Delgardo has been moved to the prison hospital.'

'He's never been a well boy, our Petey.' Leslie Delgardo sounded sorrowful.

'Our client's health has always been an anxiety to his brothers/ Nooks explained.

' I see.' I hastily consulted the brief.' The victim of the murder was a gentleman called Tosher MacBride. Know anything about him?'

'I believe he was a rent collector.' Nooks sounded vague.

'Not a bad start. The jury*!! be against murder but if someone has to go it may as well be the rent collector.' I flipped through the depositions until I got to the place where I felt most at home, the forensic report on the blood.

'Bloodstains on your brother's sleeve.'

' Group consistent with ten percent of the population,' said Nooks.

'Including Tosher MacBride? And Exhibit i, a sheath knife. Mr MacBride's blood on that, or, of course, ten percent of the population. Knife found in your brother's ancient Daimler. Fallen down by the driver's seat. Bloodstains on his coat sleeve? Bloodstained sheath knife in his car?'

' I know it looks black for young Peter.' Leslie shook his head sadly.

I looked up at him sharply. 'Let's say it's evidence, Mr Delgardo, on which the prosecution might expect to get a conviction, unless the judge has just joined the Fulham Road Anarchists - or the jury's drunk.'

'You'll pull it off for Petey.' It was the first time Basil Delgardo had spoken and his words showed, I thought, a touching faith in Rumpole.

'Pull it off? I shall sit behind my learned leader. I presume you're going to Guthrie Featherstone, Q.C., in these Chambers?'

Then Nooks uttered words which were, I must confess, music to my ears.

' Well, actually, Mr Rumpole. On this one. No.'

'Mr Rumpole. My brothers and I, we've heard of your wonderful reputation,' said Basil.

'I did the "Penge Bungalow Murder" without a leader,' I admitted. 'But that was thirty years ago. They let me loose on that.'