"Mortimer, John - Rumpole on Trial" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mortimer John)

'Pinhead was guilty all right.' 'Beyond reasonable doubt?' I started to look at the proof of my client's evidence, prepared by Mr Bernard, while Gannon gave his views on the presumption of innocence, 'Lawyers' language!' Again the contempt was deep but the voice was gentle. 'You don't believe me, do you, Mr Rumpole? I can see that. Nobody believes a copper nowadays. The world was a whole lot better when people had faith in us. That's what I think about it.' 'All right.' I didn't argue about who had caused the loss of faith as I was anxious to get down to the facts of the matter.

'Pinhead was arrested on the night of the incident.' 'The night he killed Ted Yeomans,' Gannon insisted.

'He was someone known to the police. He'd packed a lot in.

Common assault, affray, take and drive away, possession of an offensive weapon. So you thought right from the start, Pinhead Morgan was a likely suspect.' 92 ms 'Seemed probable.' 'You were busy on the morning he confessed?' I asked.

'I went to see someone in hospital. When I got back to the station I was met by D. I. Farraday, who told me that Pinhead was ready to talk.' 'That's right. They'd had a short interview with him on the morning when you were away. According to Farraday's note, all Pinhead said was, "When's the guvnor back? I feel I'd now like to tell him about my involvement."' 'Something like that.' 'So what made him change his mind?' 'They need to talk, Mr Rumpole. They need to tell someone about it; they can't keep it bottled up any longer. Then the truth comes out. And you lawyers won't believe it.' 'He's said to have the mental age of a child. Did he use all the words in this confession statement?' 'As far as I'm concerned he said exactly what I wrote down.' 'You wrote on single sheets of paper. Loose sheets?' 'Yes, I'm sure I did. D. I. Farraday and D. S. Lane saw that.' 'No paper between the sheet you were writing on and the table?' 'No, I'm sure there wasn't.' 'You know the E.S.D.A. machine thinks differently?' 'You can't rely on a machine.' I thought, well, he would say that, wouldn't he? I got up and went to the window. Then I turned back to look at the solid man filling my armchair. 'Superintendent Gannon, you do understand the case against you?' 'I wrote down what Pinhead said,' he insisted.

'You're sure you didn't improve on it later? So you could keep your promise to an unhappy woman?' I hope I made it sound as though I could understand the temptation, but he shook his head and simply answered, 'I'm sure.' Claude Erskine-Brown had two overriding ambitions: he wanted to bring a little extra romance into his life and he wanted to become one of Her Majesty's Counsel, learned in the law. The fact that his wife Phillida could write the magic letters Q.C. after her name was, for him, a matter of continual disquiet. His efforts to achieve his two great objectives were not, at that time, wholly successful. His pursuit of young women, and his efforts to get them to accompany him to the Opera, led, as often as not, to embarrassment for all concerned. In search of the elusive silk gown he got himself elected to the Sheridan Club, where he hoped to make friends with judges and old Keith from the Lord Chancellor's office, who would further his career., So far, his membership hadn't brought him the great reward. It did, however, lead him to invite me to lunch at a time when the criminal community had apparently gone off on holiday and business was slack. I accepted with reluctance, not being greatly attracted to the sight of a lot of judges and publishers sitting together drinking Brown Windsor soup (the Sheridan was proud of its cuisine, less nursery food than old-fashioned railway dinners). However, I went along for the claret and there, in the bar before lunch, we met Guthrie Featherstone and had a conversation with him which was to add greatly to his difficulties.

'I'm so sorry, Judge,' Erskine-Brown started to commiserate with his Lordship, as I thought tactlessly, on the reverse he'd received in R. v. Pinhead Morgan. 'You must be suffering a great deal.' 'Suffering?' Guthrie smiled recklessly. 'No, I'm not suffering.

I'm feeling, well, on top of the world, really.' 'You're being brave about it.' And then Claude told the Judge, even more tactlessly, 'Of course, anyone can make mistakes.' 'Mistakes?' Guthrie looked puzzled. 'What are you talking about? Who's been making mistakes? Have you heard about anyone making mistakes, Rumpole?' 'Oh, no one. Absolutely no one at all,' I tried to reassure him. 'Mistakes simply don't occur in the law.' 'I summed up in that case absolutely fairly on the evidence before me. Are you suggesting that was some kind of a mistake?' 'God forbid!' I said fervently.

'Well, anyway, you look well.' Claude was anxious to change the subject he'd introduced. 'I'm so glad you're feeling well, Guthrie.' 'Top of the world!' Guthrie smiled with boyish enthusiasm.

'There is more to life than stuffy courtrooms and summingsup, Claude. Life has better things to offer. Greater pleasures.

And thank God I'm still young enough to enjoy them.' 'Of course you are!' Claude encouraged the Judge.

'At least I'm still young enough to indulge in a bit of a bop occasionally.' 'A bit of a what?' I was puzzled.

'A bop, Rumpole. That means a dance-up,' Erskine-Brown translated for me.

'A dance-up?' 'A modern idiom which you might be too square to understand,' Guthrie said, and Claude was unwise enough to make a joke at which he laughed prodigiously. 'Rumpole's not square. He's round!' 'Oh, I can see this is going to be a hilarious luncheon.' By this time I was feeling quite gloomy, but then Guthrie decided to make his confession.

'As a matter of fact, Marigold was away,' he began confidentially, 'and I didn't fancy spending the evening here, among a lot of dusty old lawyers, so I took a young lady out bopping.' 'Claude takes them to Wagner,' I said. 'I suppose it lasts longer.' 'A judicial bop!' Erskine-Brown thought the matter over.

'Good heavens, I'd never have imagined it.' 'What I do find interesting, to be absolutely honest with you fellows', Guthrie seemed to be enjoying his confession 'is how many people today... well, let's say young women girls, if you like... how many girls rather prefer the older man as a partner, in every sense of the word.' 'Gerontophilia, is that the in-thing nowadays?' I asked, as innocently as possible.

'I mean, not really old. Not in your class, Rumpole,' Guthrie said, as I thought unnecessarily, 'but the slightly older' 'Judge?' I supplied the word.

'Even judges are human.' Guthrie spoke as though letting us into a closely guarded secret.

'So you mean, you actually struck lucky with your Bopee?' Erskine-Brown could hardly believe his ears.

'Oh, yes,' Guthrie answered us with some satisfaction.

'Beyond all reasonable doubt. Successful in every way, Claude. In every possible way. It was an evening to look back on with joy. When one's bopping days are over.' He looked at his watch. 'Sorry, you chaps. Lunching with a couple of the younger members.' At that time I didn't know Toby Harringay, nor did I realize exactly who he was until he was identified as one of her partners at the Pentium Bridge School by She Who Must Be Obeyed. However, I had been conscious of him in the offing, a moist-eyed, perpetually smiling fellow with suspiciously jet-black hair and a Sheridan Club bow-tie. As soon as Guthrie had left, he showed us how much he had been enjoying the conversation by saying, 'What exotic lives judges lead nowadays, don't they?' He had quite clearly heard everything.

Erskine-Brown smiled in a noncommittal manner and led me in the general direction of the soup. As we went I quoted Robbie Burns: '"There was a chield amang us taking notes."

Rather unfortunate that.' Toby Harringay was not the sort to let a good bit of gossip waste its sweetness on the desert air. Only a few afternoons later he was seated at the green baize opposite Hilda, with another couple of senior citizens who occupied the afternoons in polishing up their bidding at the Pentium School in Sloane Street. It was while the cards were being shuffled. She told me, that Toby began to spread the story which he couldn't possibly keep to himself.

'Hanky-panky,' he said. 'And this will come as a shock to you, Mrs Rumpole, among the Judiciary. Bed-hopping! I'm afraid that's what it comes to. Like those dreadful young people that go on package holidays to Menorca. You wouldn't believe it of judges, would you? But, oh my! You should hear them talking about it in the Sheridan Club.' 'Oh, the dear old Sheridan.' Hilda as yet knew nothing of the shock in store. 'Rumpole must get round to joining it.' Toby started to deal out the cards and the information.

'There was a judge holding forth in the bar the other day.