Unravel a Crime - Tangle With Women (6 page)

Brakespeare bristled visibly.
Mortimer continued.

“
Look, I'm not trying to run
this case for you, but David is an extremely important client. When I first
started in this profession, I did my fair share of criminal work and
litigation, as I said. Every new lawyer thinks that he's a Perry Mason, but the
secret I soon learned, and I know Gordon will agree with me on this because
we've discussed it in connection with cases on many occasions, is to pay
attention to the detail of the prosecution case.

This seems to me like a
typical half cocked Police case, and remember that you don't have to be all
that bright to be a Policeman. The Police have collected sufficient evidence to
satisfy themselves that they have a case. Remember that they aren't going to
look for evidence which shows that they might be wrong. They started this
investigation as a result of a complaint from what is now a major U.K. bank.

The Police then prepare their
case and send it to the Crown Prosecution Service. The C.P.S. look to see if
there is sufficient evidence to give them a reasonable prospect of securing a
conviction, and if they do, the case goes ahead without any other
consideration.

In the past, I've seen cases
like this, where the Prosecution look as if they have a cast iron case, only to
see it fall apart when facts of which the Prosecution have ignored come to
light. Destroy the detail and you destroy the case"

Brakespeare had to restrain
himself from interrupting this speech at several stages, but tried to argue
back as soon as it had finished.

“
I understand, and I agree
entirely with what you say, but in this case .... "

He got no further. Mortimer
could be forceful when he needed.

"Jonny, look. In this
case there are a whole lot of papers that you have not read in detail or at
all; you don't know if the client has an explanation. It's far too early to
give any advice to the client. When you see David, you must have an open mind.
Besides, this is obviously a Crown Court case, you are going to need Counsel;
let the barrister decide. "

There was a brief silence
while Brakespeare digested all that Mortimer had said.

"Point taken. I'll be
completely neutral, but I'm going to have to put the Prosecution case to him.
"

"Of course,"
Mortimer smiled, with what seemed a little relief, "but another word of
caution. I didn't tell you that David has a heart problem. He needs as little
stress as possible - go easy."

"You're joking?"

"No, I'm not.” Mortimer
drew himself up in his chair. “Jonny Brakespeare, this is one of the hardest
cases that you're ever likely to come across. I know that the odds are stacked
against you - or appear to be, but I want you to win it for us. That's why I
brought you here."

“
I’m going to find some
lunch”, was all Brakespeare could think to say.

The road from Worcester to
Malvern offers one of the most romantic views in England – that of the Malvern
Hills - a designated area of outstanding natural beauty and inhabited by man
since the Iron Age.

To music lovers it is Sir
Edward Elgar country.

Brakespeare slowed the Fiat.
He was going to be early, and the sight of the rolling countryside laid out
before him calmed any anxiety he felt over the forthcoming meeting .

In one way, he was looking
forward to meeting David Newberry, a man about whom he knew so much, but of
whom at the same time he knew very little. A man against whom there seemed to
be overwhelming evidence; but a man who was apparently going to deny all the
charges against him.

The traffic in Malvern Link
was, as usual, heavy. The pelican crossing was busy and the lights seemed to be
permanently at red. As ten o'clock drew nearer, Brakespeare felt his stress
levels rising again. He breathed in deeply

The house was not difficult to
find. A tall 4 storied detached house on Worcester Road; opposite Malvern Link
common. He brought the Fiat to a halt on the stroke of 10.00 a.m.

He had not brought any papers with
him other than his Counsel's notebook beloved of all lawyers, with it's
perforated sheets of lined writing paper.

With the notebook in his hand,
he opened the wrought iron gate, and looked up to see a man waiting at the open
door of the house at the end of the front footpath. He was tall and well built,
with a shock of ginger hair, and the pink freckled face that people with such
colouring usually have.

"Mr. Shakespeare? I was
beginning to wonder where you were."

Brakespeare, glanced at his
watch. One minute past 10.

"Brakespeare, Jonny
Brakespeare. No relation to William.“ He tried to lighten the situation with a
joke. “I'm sorry if I'm late, it's only just gone ten o'clock, according to my
watch."

"Is it, oh well, my watch
must be wrong then. Come in." The man was clearly on edge, and must have
been waiting for some time .

Newberry held out his hand;
Brakespeare shook it. The grip was not as strong as he would have expected from
the taller man. It was also distinctly moist.

"You seem to be travelling
light. "

"Well as this is a
preliminary discussion, there seemed little point in bringing any papers over.
"

"Have you read
them?"

Now this man is distinctly
aggressive, thought Brakespeare. "Enough at this stage to understand what
the case is about. "

Newberry lead him down a
gloomy hallway into a comfortable lounge at the back of the house. Brakespeare
noticed how clean and tidy everything seemed to be. It did not have a
"lived in" feel to it. The lounge was furnished with a green leather
suite and dark wooden tables, but little else. On the walls were two or three
mass produced oil paintings with brass lights above them. The whole room
appeared elegant, but not necessarily comfortable, as if the owner was copying
a style which did not come naturally to him.

"Sit down." The
request was more of an order. Whatever else, Newberry did not exactly ooze
charm, but, as Brakespeare often had to remind himself, people faced with a
lawyer for the first time are often uneasy, and show their nervousness in an aggressive
manner.

The leather of the chair
creaked as Brakespeare lowered himself into it. "Well then." said
Newberry.

"Well then." said
Brakespeare, "perhaps you had better tell me what you make of it all.
"

"Quite simple I did not
undervalue those properties. "

"Right, but have you seen
the valuations put on them by Black. "

"Black, who is
Black?"

"Have you read any of the
prosecution papers? "

"No."

"Oh. Sorry I thought that
the firm might have sent perhaps the case statement over."

"I thought that you would
be bringing something over. "

"Again I'm sorry, but as
I believe you know, I only started yesterday "

"Yes, yes, I know but I
thought that you might have checked up on the file to see what had or had not
been done. "

Brakespeare could feel his
stress levels rising again. Why are people invariably like this? Newberry was
understandably concerned about the case; who wouldn't be when charged with a
three million pound fraud, but like Mortimer, why shoot the messenger?
Brakespeare knew that he needed to take charge of this meeting regardless of
the consequences. After all this job was only a temporary assignment for him.

He made himself appear as calm
as he could manage. He forced himself to give the most relaxed smile that he
could, and looked Newberry straight in the eye, concentrating on one eye only,
so that his gaze did not waver.

"Mr. Newberry, I'm here
to try and help you. I know that Gordon Morrison is your solicitor, but it's
not my fault that he's not around to deal with the case. I'm willing to give it
my best shot, but give me a chance. "

Newberry glared at him, but
then his gaze softened. He gave a big sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"I understand that this
case is taking it's toll ... "

"Too right. I've been
suspended by the National for a year while this bloody ridiculous investigation
has taken place. I've had nothing else to think about. Is it surprising that
I'm uptight. With all due respect when your solicitor suddenly goes out of
action it doesn't help matters, Mr. Brakespeare .. "

"Jonny"

"Jonny - I'm
desperate."

"I can see that. "

"Yes, but do you know
what it feels like when everything is against you. When the establishment, or
whatever you want to call it is out to get you?"

Brakespeare remained silent.
There was no point in telling Newberry that he knew exactly how that felt. That
would not help matters.

"I'm desperate; desperate
and helpless. "

"You’re not helpless.
That is why I'm here. Look, as I said, I understand, but a lawyer is like a
doctor. Whilst I sympathise with you, and I do appreciate how you feel, like a
doctor I can't become emotionally involved. All I can do is to use my
professional skill and judgement to try and help you."

"And cure me."

"No lawyer can guarantee
a cure. Unlike a doctor who simply has to cure the patient, a lawyer has to
face another lawyer on the other side trying his best to kill him!. No doctor
has to undergo that!"

To Brakespeare’ s relief,
Newberry smiled, and then gave another big sigh. "Point taken. I haven't
even offered you some refreshment. Tea or coffee?

"Tea please. Coffee winds
me up too much."

Newberry gave him a pointed
look. "Tell me about it. Come with me."

Newberry led him into the
kitchen. It was a modem one with the latest design of kitchen units, as
pristine and apparently as little used as the rest of the house.

"Have you lived here
long" asked Brakespeare.

"About ten years."

"Even while you were
working in London. Surely you didn't commute?"

"No, I worked in London
during the week, and came home at weekends."

"That's expensive. "

"Not as expensive as
buying in London - this house," Newberry gestured about him, "would
cost four or five times as much in London. "

Brakespeare looked out of the
kitchen window to the side of the North Hill and Malvern Wells. " ….and in
London, you haven't got the views. "

"Exactly."

"But doesn't - didn't,
your wife mind?"

Newberry stiffened perceptibly
as he poured hot water into the teapot. "She accepted it. She has her own
life. "

Shakespeare, merely nodded.
Such things, if necessary, were for later. "What brought you here? Are you
local?”

"Yes and no, I was born
and bred in Worcester"

"So you've always been in
this area?"

"Apart from a few years
in Birmingham, just after I joined the National, yes.

There was a lull in the
conversation while he prepared the tea.

“
Let's go back to the
lounge." suggested Newberry and lifted the teapot, two mugs, a bottle of
milk and a packet of sugar onto a tray. "No frills catering I'm afraid.“
he said.

“
Suits me.” said Brakespeare.

They went back into the
lounge, and settled back into the chairs.

“
So, how did you start out as
a surveyor? “

“
Well, I went to Worcester
Royal Grammar, but I wasn't particularly bright, and so I left at 16 after
getting a few G.C.E Certificates, and got a job at the old Worcester County
Council in the surveyors department. I just worked my way up; sat the Chartered
Surveyors exams and qualified as a surveyor about 10 years later, when I was
26."

“
You didn't stay?”

“
Well, no. Having qualified,
there wasn't really a job for me!“ He laughed. "That's the worst of local
government, you don't get promoted by ability, you either have to wait for dead
men's shoes, or move on. So I moved on and joined the National as an in-house
surveyor. "

“
And from then on you did have
the chance to work your way up?"

"Yes. You've heard of
Clive Masters?"

Brakespeare was sipping his
mug of strong Yorkshire tea, and nodded while trying not to splutter.

"Well, when I joined it,
the National was just another small provincial building society. It's head was
Ken Good; he was in his sixties then. He was an old fashioned building society
man, and made the National into a good, solid organisation; one where your
money was safe; no chances taken, no speculation, nothing like that. However
Ken was looking towards his retirement and brought in Clive Masters who was
young and pushy. I didn't really take to him. He was too slick; too smooth for
a building society man. I think that Masters always saw the National as the way
to make money for himself: and the only way he could do that was to turn it
into a bank, with himself as Chief Executive.