“You may step down, Mrs. Manning,” the judge said quietly.

The bailiff helped her down and back to the dock, where she continued to weep.

Chapter

56

The judge looked up at the jury. “Gentlemen, we will now move to closing arguments. Sir Winston, may we have your closing?”

Sir Winston Sutherland rose and faced the jury, offering Stone and Sir Leslie Hewitt his back. “Gentlemen,” Sir Winston said. “Today you have seen evil incarnate in the form of a pretty woman, not the first time the devil has used this form. You have heard how Paul Manning, a successful writer, gave his wife everything—a big house, expensive cars and clothes, a dream trip on a glorious yacht—and how she showed her gratitude by ending his life so that she could have all his money for herself.

“Think of it, gentlemen: a yacht filled with the utensils of death—knives, harpoons, and, no doubt, other weapons since disposed of at sea.”

Stone was halfway to his feet, but Sir Leslie put out a hand and stopped him. He held a finger to his lips, and Stone sank back into his chair.

“Was there a pistol aboard the yacht?” Sir Winston continued. “Was there a shotgun? Probably, but the Atlantic Ocean is a very large rubbish bin, so we shall never know. Instead, we must put ourselves aboard that yacht and see what certainly happened there—how Paul Manning was, one way or another, consigned to the sea; how he may have watched the yacht sailing away without him, leaving him alone with the sharks and other creatures that would devour the evidence of his murdered corpse.

“Allison Manning thought she could get away with it, but she had not counted on the will for justice in St. Marks, and she had not counted on you—a jury of honest men who would see through her protestations and her tears to the truth—that she coldly and maliciously and with malice aforethought murdered her husband. Not even when he suspected her motives, as his diary shows he did, could he be on guard every second of the day and night, to protect himself from his evil wife. No, his fate was sealed as soon as he sailed from the Canary Islands. At that moment, he was a dead man.

“In St. Marks we do not placidly accept the murder of human beings. We have constructed a system of justice which has no tolerance for murderers and which rids us of them with dispatch. Today, you are the instrument of that justice, and your island nation expects of you that you will swiftly reach a verdict of guilty and allow His Lordship to pronounce the sentence that follows from such guilt.

“Gentlemen,” he said slowly and gravely, “do your duty!” He turned and sat down.

Stone leaned over to his co-counsel. “I hope you will speak longer than that,” he said.

Sir Leslie looked at his pocket watch and shook his head. “I must be finished soon or appear to insult the jury by requiring them to attend this trial for another day. That would not rebound to our client’s benefit.”

The judge was staring harshly at the defense table. “Sir Leslie, will you close now?”

Hewitt stood up. “Yes, indeed, Your Lordship.” He left the defense table and walked closer to the jury. “Gentlemen,” he said softly but clearly, “today you have been treated to a demonstration of what happens when too much power collects in too few hands.”

“Sir Leslie!” the judge barked.

“My apologies, Your Lordship,” Hewitt said. “My remarks were not directed at the court but at the prosecution.”

“Nevertheless…” the judge said, then sank back into his chair.

Hewitt turned again to the jury. “Gentlemen, my remarks w

ere not intended to be of a personal nature but merely to comment on how the ministry of justice is operated by the whim of one man. Only in such a ministry would this case ever have been brought to trial.”

“Sir Leslie,” the judge said, “I will not warn you again. You do not wish to incur my wrath.”

Hewitt turned and bowed solemnly to the bench, then turned back to the jury. “Gentlemen, the prosecution has not presented one whit of convincing evidence today—no evidence that a murder even took place, let alone that my client committed it. To call the prosecution’s case circumstantial would be to elevate it to the realm of possibility, and the events aboard the yacht as Sir Winston has described them are not even remotely possible.

“He would ask you to believe, on the basis of no physical evidence, no witnesses, and no common sense, that this lovely woman deliberately caused her beloved husband’s death—and for money. As weak as his case is, I will address the points he has attempted to make. First, the so-called diary has been convincingly shown to be notes for Mr. Manning’s next novel; second, the presence of knives and harpoons aboard the yacht has been made out to be sinister, but does not each of you have a kitchen where a number of knives reside? And are you murderers because of it? Of course not. You are no more murderers than is Mrs. Manning. Sir Winston has said that Mrs. Manning must be a murderer because she had the opportunity, but each of us has opportunities to kill every day, and we do not kill. Neither did Mrs. Manning.

“The very last person to see Paul Manning alive other than Mrs. Manning, Mr. Forrester, someone who knew Mr. Manning well, has testified that he witnessed a happy marriage in the days before the couple sailed from the Canaries. Not one witness has been brought forward to testify to the contrary, because there is no such witness. If there were, Sir Winston would have found him, believe me.

“But the greatest proof of Mrs. Manning’s innocence is Mrs. Manning herself. You have heard her describe her life with her husband, their delight in his success, their wonderful sailing adventure which they both enjoyed so much. You have heard her words, and every man of you can surely recognize the truth when he hears it. The prosecution has offered nothing but bluster and posturing to refute her patently truthful testimony, because the prosecution has nothing else to offer.

“Each of you, when his duty is done in this courtroom, will return to his daily life, and each of you will have to live with himself every day after that. Do you wish to spend the rest of your days in the knowledge that you convicted an honest woman on no evidence? Of course not! When you have declared this woman innocent you can walk from this courtroom with your heads held high, knowing that you have done right in the eyes of God and man, and no one can take that from you, not even Sir Winston and his ministry. Go, gentlemen, and do right!”

Sir Leslie returned to the defense table and sat down.

“Well done,” Stone whispered to him.

The judge spoke up. “I will now charge the jury. Gentlemen, you have heard a case presented by the prosecution and the defense. There can be no doubt that a man is dead and that it is the province of this court and, specifically, of this jury to decide how he met his death and who is to blame for it. Sir Winston and Sir Leslie have each presented their arguments, and now you must decide, beyond a reasonable doubt, if Mrs. Manning is guilty of the murder of her husband. Your verdict must be a majority verdict. You may now retire to the jury room and consider your verdict. When you have reached it, ring for the bailiff.” The judge stood and left the courtroom.

Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery
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