Nothing Ventured (Detective William Warwick 1)

‘What’s the difference?’

‘The difference is that it shows you knew which page was missing. Let me ask, did you number the pages of Mr Rainsford’s statement?’

‘Of course I did, one and two, and Rainsford signed them both. And what’s more, DC Clarkson and me witnessed his signature.’

‘But when did DC Clarkson witness that statement, Mr Stern?’

Stern hesitated before saying, ‘The following morning.’

‘Giving you more than enough time to remove the middle page.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you there was never a middle page.’

‘We only have your word for that, Mr Stern.’

‘And DC Clarkson, who went on to be promoted, not to mention the jury who didn’t seem to be in any doubt that your client was guilty.’

‘Some considerable doubt, I would suggest,’ said Sir Julian, cutting him short, ‘because they took four days to reach a verdict, and then only by a majority of ten to two.’

‘That was good enough for me,’ said Stern, his voice rising slightly.

‘Of course it was,’ said Sir Julian, ‘because it allowed you to finish your career on a high, as you so elegantly put it, and walk away without having to face yet another inquiry.’

Mr Alun Llewellyn QC, who was appearing for the Crown, rose reluctantly from the other end of the bench and said, ‘Can I remind my learned friend that it’s his client who is on trial, and not Mr Stern.’

A smug look appeared on Stern’s face.

‘Were you sober when you arrested Arthur Rainsford at 5.30 that Friday afternoon?’ asked Sir Julian.

‘Sober as a judge,’ said Stern, grinning at the three judges, none of whom returned the compliment.

‘And also when you booked him in at 6.42?’ he said, checking his notes.

‘As a judge,’ repeated Stern.

‘And when you locked him up at 6.49, and left him alone in his cell for nearly two hours?’

‘I wanted to give him enough time to think about what he was going to say, didn’t I?’ said Stern, smiling at the three judges.

‘While giving yourself enough time to down a few pints, having banged up another villain on a Friday night.’

Stern clenched his fists and stared defiantly at his adversary. ‘What if I did have a couple of pints? I was sober enough to—’

‘Sober enough to take down Mr Rainsford’s statement at 8.23.’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Stern, his voice rising with every word. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’

‘And sober enough to remove the middle page of my client’s statement later that night to ensure you retired on a high?’

‘I never removed anything that night,’ Stern snapped back.

‘Then the next morning perhaps?’ said Sir Julian calmly. ‘I imagine you were sober enough to remove it the following morning.’

‘And I was sober enough the night before to make sure the bastard got no more and certainly no less than he deserved,’ shouted Stern, jabbing a finger in the direction of defence counsel.

A stony silence hung over the court, as everyone in the room stared at the witness.

‘“And I was sober enough the night before to make sure the bastard got no more and certainly no less than he deserved,”’ repeated Sir Julian, returning Stern’s star