‘I was demoted from detective sergeant to constable, and spent two years back on the beat, before I was reinstated to my former rank.’
‘So, after an independent tribunal had assessed your honesty and integrity, it recommended that you be demoted.’
‘After which I was reinstated.’
‘And you’re now asking the jury to believe you’re a reformed character?’
‘We all make mistakes,’ said Lamont. ‘Some of us learn from them.’
‘Indeed we do,’ said Booth Watson. ‘But the jury will want to know if you’ve learnt not to turn a blind eye when you can’t secure a conviction by honest police work.’
Lamont stared defiantly at the defence counsel, but Booth Watson didn’t flinch.
‘Were you the officer in charge of the case when my client was falsely accused of stealing a Rembrandt, which he had in fact recovered for the Fitzmolean Museum at great personal expense?’
‘The jury decided he’d illegally held on to the painting for seven years,’ said Lamont, getting back up off the canvas, ‘and the judge gave him a four-year suspended sentence for fraud, and fined him ten thousand pounds.’
‘Well done,’ whispered Sir Julian. ‘Now it’s on the record.’
Booth Watson dodged the onslaught. ‘Just answer the question, superintendent. Were you in charge of the case?’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘And was that yet another example of noble cause corruption?’
Sir Julian was quickly on his feet. ‘I must object, m’lud. The superintendent is not on trial in this case.’
‘I agree, Sir Julian. Move on, Mr Booth Watson.’
Booth Watson turned a page of his notes. ‘Finally, superintendent, may I ask how long it took you on the night of May the seventeenth, to drive from the entrance gates of my client’s property to the front door of his home?’
‘About a minute, a minute and a half.’
‘How interesting. Because when I carried out the same exercise a week ago, it only took me forty-two seconds. But then it’s possible you weren’t in a hurry.’
Lamont reeled back.
‘And how long did it take for the butler – who will give evidence if required, m’lud – to open the front door and let you in, after you’d kept your finger pressing the bell?’
‘A minute, possibly two.’
‘So, no more than three, possibly four, minutes in all before you and twenty-two highly trained officers burst into my client’s home looking for drugs. And after searching for more than two hours, all they could come up with was one Ecstasy tablet and a couple of marijuana cigarettes.’
‘But later we found—’
‘“Later” being the key word. But how much later, I’m bound to ask. Were you the first officer to enter Limpton Hall, superintendent?’ said Booth Watson, changing tack.
‘Yes,’ said Lamont, sounding puzzled.
‘And where was my client at the time?’
‘Standing at the top of the stairs.’
‘And how was he dressed?’
‘He was wearing a red silk dressing gown.’
‘So after you’d rung the front door bell, he somehow managed to get twelve wraps of cocaine into a statue inconveniently placed near the front door, rush back upstairs, change out of his dinner jacket, put on his pyjamas and a red silk dressing gown – thank you for that fascinating detail, superintendent – and still found time to be standing at the top of the stairs waiting for you when you charged in, all in under three minutes?’
Lamont didn’t respond.
‘The Keystone Cops couldn’t have come up with a better story,’ said Booth Watson, looking directly at the jury.
‘It’s my belief that the defendant had concealed the twelve wraps of cocaine in the statue before our arrival, with the intention of distributing them among his guests later that evening. We just got our timing wrong.’
‘It’s my belief that you got your timing right, and having failed to come up with anything incriminating after searching my client’s home for more than two hours, someone carried out your orders and conveniently planted the drugs in the statue.’
‘That’s a ridiculous suggestion,’ said Lamont, trying to control his temper.
‘Would it also be ridiculous to suggest that, not for the first time in your career, you chose to turn a blind eye when false evidence was planted by one of your colleagues in an attempt to secure a conviction?’
‘Quite ridiculous,’ came back Lamont, almost shouting.
‘Possibly a young impressionable detective sergeant who wanted to please the officer in charge of the investigation?’
‘Even more ridiculous,’ said Lamont, his voice rising with every word.
‘A detective sergeant who just happened to know exactly where the drugs were, because that’s where he’d planted them?’
‘That’s a scurrilous accusation, My Lord,’ said Sir Julian, leaping to his feet.
‘Especially when the detective sergeant in question just happens to be the son of the Crown’s leading counsel.’
Sir Julian would have responded, but he wouldn’t have been heard above the outburst that followed, when several people turned around to look at William, who was unable to hide his anger.
The judge waited for the clamour to die down before he frowned at the defence counsel, and said, ‘I do hope, Mr Booth Watson, that you have some proof of these random accusations, otherwise I shall have no choice but to advise the jury to ignore your words and ask you to be more circumspect in future.’
‘Perhaps they wouldn’t have been random accusations, My Lord, had Sir Julian allowed Detective Sergeant Warwick to give evidence from the witness box under oath rather than his boss.’
This time the outcry lasted for some time before the judge was able to regain order when he pronounced, ‘Do not try my patience any further, Mr Booth Watson, or I may have to order a retrial, and consider you in contempt of court.’
‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we, My Lord,’ said Booth Watson, the only person who’d remained calm during this exchange. He turned his attention back to the witness before
