MR. JUSTICE SACKVILLE glanced down at the bench below him. 'Mr. Pearson, you may open the case for the Crown.'
A short, rotund man rose slowly from the counsel's bench. Mr. Arnold Pearson QC opened the thick file that rested on a lectern in front of him. He touched his well-worn wig, almost as if he were checking to make sure he'd remembered to put it on, then tugged on the lapels of his gown; a routine that hadn't changed for the past thirty years.
'If it please your lordship,' he began in a slow, ponderous manner, 'I appear for the Crown in this case, while my learned friend'-he glanced to check the name on the sheet of paper in front of him-'Mr. Alex Redmayne, appears for the defense. The case before your lordship is one of murder. The cold-blooded and calculated murder of Mr. Bernard Henry Wilson.'
In the public gallery, the parents of the victim sat in the far corner of the back row. Mr. Wilson looked down at Danny, unable to mask the disappointment in his eyes. Mrs. Wilson stared blankly in front of her, white-faced, not unlike a mourner attending a funeral. Although the tragic events surrounding the death of Bernie Wilson had irrevocably changed the lives of two East End families who had been close friends for several generations, it had hardly caused a ripple beyond a dozen streets surrounding Bacon Road in Bow.
'During the course of this trial, you will learn how the defendant,' continued Pearson, waving a hand in the direction of the dock without bothering even to glance at Danny, 'lured Mr. Wilson to a public house in Chelsea on the night of Saturday, September eighteenth, 1999, where he carried out this brutal and premeditated murder. He had earlier taken Mr. Wilson's sister'-once again he checked the file in front of him-' Elizabeth, to Lucio's restaurant in Fulham Road. The court will learn that Cartwright made a proposal of marriage to Miss Wilson after she had revealed that she was pregnant. He then called her brother, Mr. Bernard Wilson, on his mobile phone and invited him to join them at the Dunlop Arms, a public house at the back of Hambledon Terrace, Chelsea, so that they could all celebrate.
'Miss Wilson has already made a written statement that she had never visited this public house before, although Cartwright clearly knew it well, which the Crown will suggest was because he had selected it for one purpose and one purpose only: its back door opens on to a quiet alleyway, an ideal location for someone with murderous intent; a murder that Cartwright would later blame on a complete stranger who just happened to be a customer at the Dunlop Arms that night.'
Danny stared down at Mr. Pearson. How could he possibly know what had happened that night when he wasn't even there? But Danny wasn't too worried. After all, Mr. Redmayne had assured him that his side of the story would be presented during the trial and he mustn't be too anxious if everything appeared bleak while the Crown was presenting its case. Despite his barrister's repeated assurances, two things did worry Danny: Alex Redmayne wasn't much order than he was, and had also warned him that this was only his second case as leader.
'But unfortunately for Cartwright,' continued Pearson, 'the other four customers who were in the Dunlop Arms that night tell a different story, a story which has not only proved consistent, but which has also been corroborated by the barman on duty at the time. The Crown will present all five as witnesses, and they will tell you that they overheard a dispute between the two men, who were later seen to leave by the rear entrance of the bar after Cartwright had said, 'Then why don't we go outside and sort it out?' All five of them saw Cartwright leave by the back door, followed by Bernard Wilson and his sister Elizabeth, who was clearly in an agitated state. Moments later, a scream was heard. Mr. Spencer Craig, one of the customers, left his companions and ran out into the alley, where he found Cartwright holding Mr. Wilson by the throat, while repeatedly thrusting a knife into his chest.
'Mr. Craig immediately dialed 999 on his mobile phone. The time of that call, m'lord, and the conversation that took place were logged and recorded at Belgravia police station. A few minutes later, two police officers arrived on the scene and found Cartwright kneeling over Mr. Wilson's body, with the knife in his hand-a knife that he must have picked up from the bar, because
Alex Redmayne wrote down Pearson's words.
'Members of the jury,' continued Pearson, once again tugging at his lapels, 'every murderer has to have a motive, and in this case we need look no further than the first recorded slaying, of Abel by Cain, to establish that motive: envy, greed and ambition were the sordid ingredients that, when combined, provoked Cartwright to remove the one rival who stood in his path.
'Members of the jury, both Cartwright and Mr. Wilson worked at Wilson 's garage in Mile End Road. The garage is owned and managed by Mr. George Wilson, the deceased's father, who had planned to retire at the end of the year, when he intended to hand over the business to his only son, Bernard. Mr. George Wilson has made a written statement to this effect, which has been agreed by the defense, so we shall not be calling him as a witness.
'Members of the jury, you will discover during this trial that the two young men had a long history of rivalry and antagonism which stretched back to their schooldays. But with Bernard Wilson out of the way, Cartwright planned to marry the boss's daughter and take over the thriving business himself.
'However, everything did not go as Cartwright planned, and when he was arrested, he tried to place the blame on an innocent bystander, the same man who had run out into the alley to see what had caused Miss Wilson to scream. But unfortunately for Cartwright, it was not part of his plan that there would be four other people who were present throughout the entire episode.' Pearson smiled at the jury. 'Members of the jury, once you have heard their testimony, you will be left in no doubt that Daniel Cartwright is guilty of the heinous crime of murder.' He turned to the judge. 'That concludes the prosecution opening for the Crown, m'lord.' He tugged his lapels once more before adding, 'With your permission I shall call my first witness.' Mr. Justice Sackville nodded, and Pearson said in a firm voice, 'I call Mr. Spencer Craig.'
Danny Cartwright looked to his right and watched as an usher at the back of the courtroom opened a door, stepped out into the corridor and bellowed, 'Mr. Spencer Craig!' A moment later, a tall man, not much older than Danny, dressed in a blue pinstriped suit, white shirt and mauve tie, entered the courtroom. How different he looked from when they'd first met.
Danny hadn't seen Spencer Craig during the past six months, but not a day had passed when he hadn't visualized him clearly. He stared at the man defiantly, but Craig didn't even glance in Danny's direction-it was as if he didn't exist.
Craig walked across the courtroom like a man who knew exactly where he was going. When he stepped into the witness box, he immediately picked up the Bible and delivered the oath without once looking at the card the usher held up in front of him. Mr. Pearson smiled at his principal witness, before glancing down at the questions he had spent the past month preparing.
'Is your name Spencer Craig?'
'Yes, sir,' he replied.
'And do you reside at forty-three Hambledon Terrace, London SW3?'
'I do, sir.'
'And what is your profession?' asked Mr. Pearson, as if he didn't know.
'I am a barrister at law.'
'And your chosen field?'
'Criminal justice.'
'So you are well acquainted with the crime of murder?'
'Unfortunately I am, sir.'
'I should now like to take you back to the evening of September eighteenth, last year, when you and a group of friends were enjoying a drink at the Dunlop Arms in Hambledon Terrace. Perhaps you could take us through exactly what happened that night.'
'My friends and I were celebrating Gerald's thirtieth birthday-'
'Gerald?' interrupted Pearson.
'Gerald Payne,' said Craig. 'He's an old friend from my days at Cambridge. We were spending a convivial evening together, enjoying a bottle of wine.'
Alex Redmayne made a note-he needed to know how many bottles.
Danny wanted to ask what the word 'convivial' meant.
'But sadly it didn't end up being a convivial evening,' prompted Pearson.
'Far from it,' replied Craig, still not even glancing in Danny's direction.
'Please tell the court what happened next,' said Pearson, looking down at his notes.
