Lauren's Dilemma (26 page)

“Your father
is here, Wally Morgan and the police. They’ll make sure no-one harms you.”

“They all
think I did it,” his voice rose hysterically. He trembled so much his whole
body convulsed.

“Please,”
she pleaded tearfully. “People could get killed, if you don't give yourself up.
You wouldn't want that. I believe you about Helen, the others will, too, when
they calm down. Everything will be all right.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Dick,
on my word of honor.” His eyes widened. His face looked like it was carved out
of a piece of white marble.

“Give me
the gun.”

He did not
answer or move. The seconds slowly ticked by. He shook his head as if to clear
it. Finally, when he spoke, he sounded like a stranger.

“I can't
leave my post, there's snipers trying to pick us off.”

“What! Dick,”
she raised her voice. “It's me, Laurie, you're home in Australia, not on Gallipoli.”

“Home?” His
face crumpled. He started crying, and it was truly terrible to hear. The gun
fell to the ground as he lurched forward. She held him in the circle of her arms,
while he cried like a baby.

The police
closed in, and she stood weeping softly as they dragged him away.

Chapter
Thirteen

The
Courthouse was packed as Laurie and the McKinlays made their way towards the
front. Blair, already seated, greeted them all with a brief nod.

An audible
buzz passed through the crowd as a pale, distraught Dick was escorted in by two
guards. He looked so tragically young, and Laurie, darting a glance at the
jury, wondered what they were thinking. Would they be merciful, or had the
newspaper stories poisoned their minds against him?

The first
to give evidence was one of the policemen Blair had summoned to Coolibah. She
listened, feeling more and more nauseated as they described their findings. The
doctor's report gave her the shudders.

He
described Helen's injuries so graphically that vomit rose up in Laurie’s
throat. Mutterings from the packed court attested to everyone else’s shock, as
well. When he said Helen had been raped, there were audible gasps.

Blair,
looking tired and drawn, gave evidence next. His face seemed much too thin, but
he answered clearly and decisively, almost emotionlessly. “I found my wife
lying on the ground bleeding profusely. I saw Dick McKinlay running away. Only
the telltale pulse jerking at the side of his throat showed his innermost
feelings. “My wife said Dick had done it.”

Laurie,
gritting her teeth to stop herself from screaming out loud, closed her eyes in
a futile endeavor to block out the horror. Blair’s words had given Dick to the
hangman.

“Exactly
what did your wife say, Captain Sinclair?
 
Couldn't you have misunderstood?” Laurie opened her eyes and focused her
wavering vision on Dick’s lawyer. “Her words exactly, please.”

“When I
found my wife lying on the back verandah, I said. ‘Who did this to you?’ She
mumbled, ‘Dick McKinlay.’”

“Nothing
else?”

“No, just
his name.”

“Was anyone
else at the homestead at the time?”

“No, only
my wife. I came back to check on Helen, as she didn't like being left on her
own. Our housekeeper was spending the day with a sick relative, and all the men
were out working.”

“Are you
sure of what your wife said? You couldn't have misunderstood? Think carefully.
This boy's life is hanging in the balance.”

“Yes, I'm
sure. She said his name, and nothing else.” Blair’s voice sounded flat and
emotionless.

A thin,
ferret-faced man who had been writing in a large, dog-eared notebook got called
upon to give evidence next. Laurie listened to a loud buzz from the crowd. It
sounded like a swarm of angry bees had escaped from their hive.

The
prosecution’s witness turned out to be Harry Whittaker, the despicable
journalist who had written such vile things about Dick in the daily paper.

Laurie's
blood ran cold as he started speaking. He told the now hushed court he had been
doing some investigating for his newspaper. “I discovered that Richard McKinlay
was dishonorably discharged from the Army.”

“No. No,”
Dick’s mother cried out. “He was medically discharged. My boy got wounded in
action. His heart was strained.” She started screaming and weeping and had to
be escorted outside.

On and on
Whittaker went, damning Dick further with every word. Laurie hated him. For the
first time in her life she hated and loathed another human being, but he could
hardly be called human. Vilifying a poor, sick boy, with evidence comprised of
distortions and downright lies.

She glanced
at Dick. His eyes were glazed over with fear, his face bleached white except
for a bluish tinge around his lips.

She now
faced the biggest dilemma of her life. You have to testify. It’s the only way
to save Dick from the hangman’s noose. How could she live with herself if she
sacrificed Dick’s life merely to save her good name?

“There was
an unsavory incident in Egypt
involving the accused and an army officer,” Whittaker said.

“He made me
do it. He made me do it.” Dick leapt towards the witness box and it took two
guards to restrain him.

“Drunkenness,
unruly behavior, associating with unsavory women,” Whittaker went on
salaciously.

Dick's
lawyer got up to cross-examine the witness.

“What is
the connection between these alleged incidents and the mental state of my
client at the time of the murder?”

“Well, in
my opinion…”

The lawyer
interrupted Whittaker’s ravings. “This is hearsay evidence, your honor.”

“I’ll allow
it,” the judge said, “but get to the point.”

“Well, Mrs.
Sinclair was an extremely beautiful woman. Given his history, I think the
accused fell in love with her. When she refused his advances, he lost his head
and raped her. He killed her so she wouldn't put him in to the law.”

Laurie
jumped up. “It's not true! Dick disliked her, but he couldn't, I mean, he
wouldn't...”

“Mrs.
McKinlay, please sit down,” the judge ordered.

“He's
lying.”

“We'll take
a ten-minute break so you can compose yourself, Mrs. McKinlay.”

The jury
believed Whittaker's lies. She read it in their faces, heard it in their angry
muttering and shocked gasps.

During the
break Laurie rushed over to Dick’s lawyer. “Why didn't you deny all the evil
lies that creature told? The judge shouldn’t have let him say such things.
Whittaker only wants a big story so he can sell more newspapers.”

“The judge
exercised his discretion and allowed Whittaker to have his say. Unless you’re
prepared to take the stand, I’m afraid there’s little else I can do. Blair
Sinclair saw your husband running away from the crime scene. With her dying
breath Helen Sinclair accused him. He was covered with blood when apprehended.
All we can hope for is leniency because of his state of mind.”

“He'd be
better off dead than locked away in some insane asylum. He's innocent. I’ve
already told you he couldn’t rape anyone.”

“Mrs.
McKinlay, Helen Sinclair was raped. Both the doctor and police attested to it.”

“I know,
but if we can make the jury believe it was impossible for Dick to rape her,
wouldn't they believe his story about her already being dead?” Laurie
shuddered. “Or so near death he thought she was?”

“Yes, but
you know what it means if you tell the court about the true state of your
marriage. You’ll be ostracized. The press will crucify you.”

“I know.”
She held her head in her hands and closed her eyes, to blot out the ugly
pictures forming in her mind. People would call her a despicable, scheming
harlot and would avoid her like the plague. No decent person would want to
associate with her ever again, but she couldn’t let them hang Dick, not when
her testimony could save him. Oh, God, help me, she prayed desperately. Give me
the strength to do what’s right.

By the time
Laurie got called to the stand, the courthouse was stifling hot. Her hand shook
as it rested on the Bible while she took the oath. The Prosecution lawyer went
easy on her for a few moments, asking her name, where she came from, and how
long she had known Dick. Then it came with the force of a battering ram.

“Was your
husband having an affair with Mrs. Sinclair?”

“No,
definitely not,” she answered emphatically. She didn’t know how she got the
strength, but her gaze never wavered as she stared into the prosecutor’s face.

“How can
you be so sure? Mrs. Sinclair was a beautiful woman.”

“Dick isn't
like that.”

“I'd like
to remind you, Mrs. McKinlay, you’re under oath.”

“He
wouldn't have an affair with her; he didn't even like her.” Perspiration
drenched her back, causing her blouse to cling uncomfortably. She suddenly felt
the baby kick her under the ribs, as if to warn her that what she said here
today would affect it, too.

“Why do you
say that, when we've presented such damning evidence?”

“Dick
wouldn't do such a thing.”

“Why do you
think he killed Mrs. Sinclair?”

“He didn't
kill her. He didn't do anything to her.”

“The army
doctors have testified that physically the only thing wrong with him was
disorderly action of his heart. He was mentally unstable when he came back from
the war, but after a few months he received no medical treatment at all. It
would be reasonable to assume his condition had stabilized.”

“He wasn't
better. He was only seventeen. At Lone Pine he got buried for days under piles
of bodies, and other soldiers ran all over him. He couldn't get out by himself,
and there was no one left alive to help, in the end.”

The Court
was silent now, except for the buzzing of several fat blowflies.

“He never
told anyone else this.” Laurie trembled so badly she could almost hear her
teeth rattle. “He said he could feel the blood on his face.
 
It felt warm and sticky and wouldn't wash
off, no matter how hard he tried. After he returned home, his face always felt
sticky, even after he washed it. Dick is ill, not bad. He wouldn't kill anyone,
not on purpose. He hated violence and death, because he’d seen too much of it.”

“That's not
really the point, Mrs. McKinlay. We can put him at the scene and with her dying
breath Mrs. Sinclair accused him.”

“He didn't
rape her. He didn't.” She put her hand over her heart. “I swear it.”

“How can
you be so sure?”

“He isn't
like that.”

“Come now.
Mrs. Sinclair was an extremely beautiful woman. Why wouldn't he desire her? I'm
putting it to you that this was a crime of passion. He raped her, and then
killed her to avoid detection.”

“Dick
wouldn’t rape anyone. He isn’t like other men.”

“No! no!”
Dick screamed. “Don’t tell them, Laurie. Don't!” The guards had to forcibly
restrain him from jumping out of his chair.

“He, he…”
She swallowed a couple of times. He…”

“No,
Laurie, don't!” She stared into Dick's stricken face as he pleaded with her to
keep his secret.

“If I don’t
tell them, they'll hang you.”

“You're
under oath, Mrs. McKinlay,” the prosecutor warned. “There are severe penalties
for perjury, you know. I don’t wish to pressure you, not in your delicate
condition. I’m asking you again. In what way isn't your husband like other
men?”

Laurie
looked at the lawyer, her eyes full of pain. Was that pity flickering in his
eyes? He leaned forward. “Now, my dear.”

“He
couldn't.” She glanced at a pale, ghost-like Dick. The only vestige of color
came from a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead, and his tormented
blue eyes.

“He
couldn't have a relationship with a woman. He, he’s incapable of it.”

A shocked
murmur rippled through the courtroom.

“Laurie,
Laurie.” Dick sobbed and pleaded.

“You mean
he’s impotent?” the prosecutor said.

“Yes.” She
felt as though she were bleeding to death inside.

“Mrs.
McKinlay, do you expect the jury to believe that, when your, er, delicate
condition, is quite obvious?”

“It, it…”
She placed trembling hands protectively over her swollen stomach. “It isn't
Dick's baby.”

Momentarily,
there was a deathly silence, followed by a loud buzz. Laurie lifted her head,
and through a mist of tears saw Blair's face contort before losing all its
color. The pulse in his jaw jerked and twisted frantically. He closed his eyes
then held his head in his hands, while George McKinlay shrank farther into his
seat.