John Mortimer - Rumpole 1 - Rumpole of The Bailey Read online

  Half-way through the afternoon things were going pretty well. Rice Crispies, doing his job in a very decent fashion, was decidedly interested in the point of agent provocateur. Kathy was smiling in the dock, the commune were gripped by the spectacle, and outside the Court room the baby, unaware of the solemnity of the occasion, was yelling lustily. In the witness box, Detective Sergeant Jack Smedley was looking extremely square, clean shaven and in his natty Old Bill uniform.

  ' I see Detective Sergeant,' I had the pleasure to put to him, 'you are no longer wearing your beads.' ' Beads ? What beads are those ?' The judge was puzzled.

  'I was wearing beads, your Honour, on the occasion of my visits to 34 Balaclava Road.' 'Beads! With the uniform?' His Honour couldn't believe his ears. No one had sported beads in the Navy.

  'Not with the uniform! With the embroidered jeans, and the waistcoat of Afghan goat, and the purple silk drapery knotted round your neck.' I pursued my advantage.

  ' I was in plain clothes, your Honour.' 'Plain clothes, Sergeant? You were in fancy dress!' I rode over a titter from the commune. 'Now perhaps you'll tell the Court. What's happened to your gaucho moustache ?' 'I... I shaved it off.' 'Why?' 'In view of certain comments, your Honour, passed in the Station. It wasn't a gaucho. More a Viva Zapata, actually.' 'A Viva, what was that, Mr Rumpole?' The judge seemed to feel the world slipping away from him.

  'The officer was affecting the moustache, your Honour, of a well-known South American revolutionary.' This news worried the old darling on the bench deeply.

  'A South American! Can you tell me, officer, what was the purpose of this elaborate disguise?' The witness paused. I filled the gap with my humble submission.

  'May I suggest an answer, Sergeant? You took it into your head to pose as a drug dealer in order to trap this quite innocent young woman...' I had the pleasure of pointing out Kathy in the dock... 'into taking part in a filthy trade she wouldn't otherwise have dreamed of."

  'Well yes, but...' 'What did he say?' Rice Crispies pounced on the grudging admission.

  'Your Honour.' The witness tried to start again.

  ' Shorthand writer, just read me that answer.' There was a long pause while the elderly lady shuffled through her notes, but at last the passage was reproduced.

  '... in order to trap this quite innocent young woman into taking part in a filthy trade.'' Well yes, but..."

  The judge made a note of that. I could have kissed the old darling. However, I pressed on.

  ' But what, Sergeant?' ' She wasn't so innocent.' ' What reason had you to suppose that?' 'Her way of life, your Honour.' ' What I want you to tell me, officer, is this.' The judge weighed in in support of Rumpole. 'Did you have any reason to believe that this young woman was dealing in drugs before you went there in your Viva... What?' ' Zapata, your Honour," I helped him along.

  'Thank you, Mr Rumpole. I'm much obliged.' 'We had received certain information.' The sergeant did his best to make it sound sinister.

  'And will you let us into the secret, officer. What was this information?' ' That Miss Trelawny was the type to get involved.' ' Involved by you?' ' Involved already.' Tooke, who seemed to feel the case was eluding his grasp, rose to his feet. 'I shall be calling the evidence, your Honour, of the neighbour. Miss Tigwell.' ' Very well, Mr Tooke.' 'But if the evidence shows no previous attempt to deal in drugs, then you would agree the whole of this crime was a result of your fertile imagination.' I fired a final salvo at the witness but the judge interrupted me, perfectly fairly.

  'Doesn't that rather depend, Mr Rumpole, on the effect of Miss Tigwell's evidence ? When we hear it ?' ' If your Honour pleases. Of course, as always, your Honour is perfectly right!' I rewarded that upright fellow Rice Crispies with a low bow and sat down in a mood of quiet self-congratulation. I hadn't been sitting long before the man, Dave, was at my side, whispering furiously, 'Is that all you're going to ask?' 'You want to have a go?' I whispered back. 'Do borrow the wig, old darling.' The evidence of Kathy's previous malpractices was offered to us in the person of Miss Tigwell who lived opposite at No. 33 Balaclava Road, and whose idea of entertainment appeared to be gazing into the windows of' Nirvana' in the daily hope of moral indignation.

  ' I could tell exactly what they were.' 'What were they, Miss Tigwell?' 'Perverted. All living higgledy-piggledy. Men and women, black and white.' 'Did your supervision include the bedrooms?' ' Well... No. But they all sat together in the front room.' ' Sat together? What did they talk about?' ' I couldn't hear that.' "They were a community, that's what it comes to. They might well have been Trappist monks for all you knew.' 'I don't know if Air Rumpole is suggesting his client is a Trappist monk.' Tooke made a mistake, he should have left the jokes to me. Rice Crispies didn't smile.

  'Now, Miss Tigwell, apart from the fact that persons of different sex, sat together... Did you ever observe anything suspicious from your post in the crow's nest?' 'I saw a man giving her money.' Miss Tigwell was playing her King.' Quite a lot of money. It was in ten pound notes.' 'Was this the first time you had ever seen money passing or any sort of dealing going on in " Nirvana " ?' 'The first time, yes.' The judge was making a note. I decided to play my Ace and prayed that I wouldn't be trumped by the prosecution.

  ' Can you describe to his Honour the man you saw passing the money?' 'Dreadful-looking person. A clear criminal type. Looked as if he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.' 'Longhair?' 'And a horrible sort of moustache.' 'Beads? Embroidered jeans? Afghan goat's hair and purple silk fancy for the neck?' I saw Detective Sergeant ex-hippie Smedley bow his head in shame, and I knew I was home and dry.

  'Disgusting! I saw it all quite distinctly!' Miss Tigwell ended in triumph.

  'Congratulations, madam. You have now given us a perfectly accurate description of Detective Smedley of the local force.' As I took off the wig in the robing room. Farmer Tooke was looking distinctly worried. I did my best to cheer him up. 'Ah, Tooke... I have good news for you. Hope to get you all off in time for the gymkhana tomorrow. Got a daughter, have you, in the potato race?' 'Do you think the judge is agin me?' Tooke felt all was not well with the prosecution.

  ' Not you, personally. But I know what he's thinking.' 'Do you?' 'Encourage that sort of police officer and he'll be out in a frock on the Prom tomorrow, soliciting the chairman of the bench.' Tooke saw the point. 'I say. I suppose that sort of thing is worrying.' ' Not English, if you want my opinion.' At which Tooke, climbing into his Burberry, put the law behind him and extended an invitation.

  'What are you doing tonight, Rumpole? I mean, there'll be a few of us dining at the Bar hotel... With the leader of the Circuit.' ' Roast lamb, sea shanties and old jokes from Quarter Sessions ? No. Not tonight, Tooke.' 'Oh well. I'm sorry. We like to give our visitors a little hospitality.' 'Tonight, I am dropping out.' Dinner at 'Nirvana' was a distinct surprise. I'd expected nut cutlets and carrot juice. I got an excellent steak and kidney pud and a very drinkable claret. Oswald had told me he was something of a ' wine freak'. The house was clean and the big cushions and old sofas remarkably comfortable. The babies were good enough to withdraw from the company, the record-player gave us unobtrusive flute music from the Andes and Kathy tended to all my needs, filling my glass and lighting my cigar, and remained a perpetual pleasure to the eye. I began to think that I'd rather live at 34 Balaclava Road than at the Gloucester Road mansion flat with She Who Must Be Obeyed; I'd rather sit back on the scatter cushions at 'Nirvana' and let my mind go a complete blank than drag myself down to the Bailey on a wet Monday morning to defend some over-excited Pakistani accused of raping his social worker. In fact I thought that for tuppence, for a packet of small cigars, I'd give up the law and spend the rest of my life in a pair of old plimsolls and grey flannel bags, shrimping on the beach at Coldsands. The only fly in this soothing ointment was the fellow Dave.

  When I told Kathy she wouldn't even have to go into the witness box if we won our agent provocateur argument, Dave said, 'I'm not sure I agree with that.' I told him firmly tha
t I wasn't sure he had to.

  'When we brought you here I thought you'd understand... It's not just another case,' Dave protested. Protesting seemed to be his main occupation.

  'Every case is just another case,' I told him. 'To you, all right! To us it's a chance to say what we have to. Can't we put the law straight, on the drug scene?' 'I mean, this isn't a den of thieves, is it? You've seen "Nirvana"!' Oswald put the point more gently. He was right, of course, I had seen 'Nirvana'.

  'Now's our only chance to get through to the law,' Dave told me. I decided to instruct him on the facts of life.

  'The law? You know where the law is now? Down in the George Hotel drinking the Circuit port and singing " What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor". The law is talking about the comical way the old Lord Chief passed a death sentence. The law is in another world; but it thinks it's the whole world. Just as you lot think the world's nothing but poetry, and perhaps the occasional puff of a dangerous cigarette.' 'That's what we've got you for. To put our point of view across.' Dave had mistaken my function.

  'You've got me to get you out of trouble. That's what you've got me for. I'm not going to get up tomorrow and teach old Rice Crispies to sing protest songs... to a small guitar.' 'You're just not taking this case seriously!' Dave was totally wrong, and I told him so.

  'Oh yes I am. I am seriously determined to keep Kathy out of prison.' At which Miss Trelawny said it was time for their nightly poem. She found a book and gave it to me open.

  'Me?' 'You like this. Read it to us...' So I read to the lotus eaters, quietly at first and then with more emphasis, enjoying the sound of my own voice. 'It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity.' They were all listening as though they actually enjoyed it, except for Dave who was whispering to Kathy.

  'Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought...' Kathy was shushing Dave, making him listen to the old sheep. I looked at her as I read the last lines.

  ' Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.' I slammed the book shut. I needed to sleep before Court in the morning.

  'The Officer was only doing his duty. Active, your Honour, in the pursuit of crime!' Tooke was making his final speech on the point of evidence, to an unenthusiastic audience.

  'Or in the manufacture of a crime? That's what troubles me." The judge was really troubled, bless him. He went on. 'If I thought this young woman only collected drugs... only got in touch with any sort of supplier because of the trap set for her, then would you concede, Mr Tooke, I would have to reject the evidence?' ' I think your Honour would.' Tooke was a lovely prosecutor. Everything was going extremely well when Rice Crispies adjourned for lunch. So I was in festive mood when I set off for a crab sandwich and a nourishing stout in the pub opposite the Shire Hall, looking forward to whetting my whistle and putting the final touch on my clinching argument. But I was stopped by Friendly who said the client wanted to see me as a matter of urgency. He led me into a small room, decorated with old framed leases and eighteenth-century maps of Coldsands, and there, clearly bursting with news to impart, were Miss Kathy Trelawny and her friend Dave.

  'We want to tell the truth.' I closed the door carefully and looked at her Dave without encouragement.

  'What truth?' 'It's the only way I can get Peter's case across,' Kathy said. She was smiling no longer.

  'Peter?' 'My brother. I told you. He was busted.' 'In Turkey. I remember. Well, this isn't Turkey. And it's not Peter's case or anyone else's.' I looked at Kathy.' It's yours.' 'Kathy wants you to know why she did it.' She was about to speak, and I almost shouted at her, hoping it still wasn't too late.

  'Shut up!' 'You see I had...' 'The conference is over! Got to get a bite of lunch. Come on. Friendly.' I moved to the door.

  ' It appears we have new instructions, Mr Rumpole." Friendly looked concerned, not half so concerned as I was.

  'The old instructions are doing very nicely, thank you. Don't say a word until this evening. When it's all over tell me what you like.' 'She wants everyone to know. How else can we get Pete's case into the papers?' Dave, like an idiot, had moved between me and the door. I had no way of escaping the fusillade of truth which Kathy then let fly.

  'I got the stuff last year after Pete got busted in Istanbul. I was going to sell it anyway. It was going to cost ten thousand pounds to get him out in lawyers' fees and...' she looked at me almost accusingly, 'bribes, I suppose... He got twelve years. We've got to get people to care about Peter!' So it was quite clear, she was telling me that she hadn't committed her crime as the result of a request from an agent provocateur. She had the stuff before Detective Sergeant Smedley of the west country Drug Squad first came to 'Nirvana'. That was the truth, the last thing in the world I wanted to know. I looked at my watch, and turned to Friendly.

  'What is there, a 2.25 back to London? Friendly, run outside, for God's sake, and see if you can't whistle me up a taxi. I'm retiring from this case.' Friendly, totally puzzled by the turn of events, left us.

  'Running out on us?' Dave never made an unexpected remark.

  'Why, for God's sake?' Kathy asked me, and I had to tell her. 'Let me try and explain. My existence is bound by a small blue volume handed down like the Tablets on the day of my Call to the Bar by a Master of my Inn in a haze of port and general excitement.' 'What the hell's he talking about!' Dave couldn't resist interrupting, but Kathy told him to listen. I went on with such calm as I could muster.

  'Barristers down the ages have killed. They have certainly committed adultery. Although that sort of thing doesn't appeal to me some may well have coveted their neighbours' camels and no doubt worshipped graven images. But I don't believe there's one of us who has ever gone on to fight a case after our client has told us, in clear crystal ringing tones, that they actually did the deed.' 'You mean, you won't help me?' Kathy looked as if it had never occurred to her.

  'I can't now.' 'But Kathy wants to tell the judge the pot law's ridiculous. And about Pete.' 'It's my duty to preside over your acquittal, not your martyrdom to the dubious cause of intoxication,' I told her. 'I'll see the judge and tell him I can't act for you any longer... personal reasons.' 'The old fool'll think you fancy her.' I can't imagine where Dave got that far-fetched idea, and I went on ignoring him.

  'You'll get another barrister. What you tell him is your business. I'll ask the judge to adjourn for a week or two... You'll still be on bail.' 'What's the matter? Afraid to stick your neck out? Or would you starve to death if they made pot legal?' Dave was about to start on another of his political speeches, but Kathy silenced him. She asked him to leave us alone, and I told him to go and find Friendly and my taxi. He went. He had smashed my defence and I was alone with Kathy, looking at the pieces.

  ' I thought... We got along together.' Kathy was smiling again. I couldn't help admiring her courage. ' I mean, you keep talking about clients. I didn't think I was a client. I thought I was more of a friend, actually.' 'Never have friends for clients. That really ought to be one of the Ten Commandments.' 'I don't suppose you could forget what I told you?' ' Of course I could. I'd like nothing more than to forget it. I'd forget it at once if I wasn't a bloody barrister!' 'And there's nothing more important than that in your life? Being a barrister.' I thought about this very carefully. Unfortunately, there was only one answer.

  'No.' ' Poetry doesn't mean a damn thing to you! Friendship doesn't mean anything. You're just an old man with a heart full of a book about legal etiquette!' Kathy was angry now, she'd stopped smiling.

  'You're saying just what I have long suspected,' I had to agree with her.

  'Why don't you do something about it?' 'What do you suggest?' She moved away from me, and went and looked out of the window, at the sunshine and the municipal begonias. At last she said, 'I might leave Cold
sands and come up to London. Do a language course.' 'And Dave? Would Dave be coming with you?"

  'Dave's stuck here organizing the house. I want to get away. Have a bit of a rest from home-made muesli and debates about the geezer. I thought. Well. I'd get a flat in London. I could come and have lunch with you sometimes. When you're in the Old Bailey.' 'Every man has his price. Is that mine? A lunch down the Old Bailey?' 'Not enough?' 'More than enough. Probably, much more. Something to think about, in the long cold nights with She Who Must Be Obeyed.' She suddenly turned on me, she was holding on to my arm, as if afraid of falling.

  'I'm not going to prison! You won't let them send me to prison!' There was only one way, now Dave had done his damnedest.

  ' I can go and see the judge. He might agree to a suspended sentence. I don't know. I can go and see him.' 'That's right! He likes you. I could see you get along. Go and see him. Please go and see him.' She was smiling again, eager. I had to tell her the facts of life.

  'You know what it means. If I go and see the judge for you?' 'I... I plead guilty.' She knew. I left her then and went to the door. We still had our trump card. Dear old Rice Crispies was simply aching to get away to the gymkhana.